help but think. I didn’t particularly think he trusted me or cared for me beyond simple desire and necessity for a queen.
“Hukan,” I repeated.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she looked at Arokan. He was watching her too, watching me, as if it was all a test. Did he know she disapproved of me?
Probably, I thought. Something about Arokan told me that not much got passed him. He was always observing, always aware. It was probably why he made a good horde king, why he was respected.
“Come inside, Vorakkar. Morakkari,” Hukan said, ushering us inside. Her tent was much smaller than our own, but was comfortable enough with a bed of furs and cushions. Incense burned within, filling the tent with an overpowering earthy fragrance, one that made my eyes tear up.
She led us over to a low table in the center of the tent and I followed Arokan’s lead and sat down on the cushions next to him.
Hukan retrieved materials from a chest of drawers and returned to the table, slowly lowering herself down across from us. Her eyes ran over me again. I was so used to Dakkari averting their gaze that I was surprised how uncomfortable it made me.
“You continue to wear your nekkar clothes,” she commented. “You do not think you are Dakkari now?”
I blinked.
Arokan whistled out a low breath. “Kivale,” he said, though whether it was a name or a warning, I didn’t know.
“Your queen should be proud to wear Dakkari adornments,” Hukan said and I was stunned at her tone, at the way she looked at Arokan. All the while, she continued to lay out her materials like nothing was wrong. She was criticizing me though we’d just met. “It is a disrespect to you, Arokan. A disrespect to us all.”
I sucked in a breath at the sound of his name, disbelief spreading through me. I thought no member of his horde was supposed to know his name, much less speak it.
Except one, I remembered. He said that none knew his name except one.
Who was this female to him?
“Enough,” he said, his tone sharp and Hukan stilled, her outstretched hand freezing over a needle. When I looked over at him, I saw his barely concealed anger. “I do not care what she wears. She is human. She is Dakkari now too. You cross lines in speaking to my queen this way. Even you, Kivale.”
He was…defending me?
“Forgive me,” Hukan finally said, after a brief uncomfortable pause, though she only held Arokan’s eyes. “You know I am just an old fool.”
Looking down at my pants and tunic, I’d never realized that the way I dressed would reflect poorly not only on me, but on Arokan. I’d never even thought that it could be considered an insult.
“You can ask my queen for forgiveness, Kivale,” Arokan said, his tone still sharp, like a blade.
Hukan met his eyes then she looked down at the table, rearranging her needles and pots of gold slowly, before she met my gaze.
“Forgive me, Morakkari,” she said. “I forget my place.”
“You gave your opinion,” I replied a moment later, because I wanted to keep the peace. “There is nothing to forgive.”
She blinked, her lips pressing together.
“I am human,” I said. “I’m not ashamed that I am and I won’t apologize for what makes me feel comfortable.”
I sensed Arokan’s gaze but I held her eyes. Hukan reminded me of the seamstress I used to work for back at village. Hard as nails, that woman, and she constantly tested me at every turn with her sharp words and cranky attitude. I was used to criticism, just from people I was familiar with. One thing I did know, however, was that if I didn’t stand up for myself from the beginning, I would always be lesser in her eyes.
Hukan looked away first and my fingers twitched, relieved. She looked down at the pots, picked up a clear salve, and asked, “Do you wish to go first, Vorakkar?”
I blinked. Arokan would get markings that day too?
Arokan held out one wrist in reply, his irritation still evident. Hukan spread the salve just above his gold cuffs in a thick band, wrapped all the way around, waited a moment, then wiped it away.
Despite the slight tension in the tent, I was soon distracted by the process of tattooing. I watched as Hukan cleaned her needles and then dipped one in the gold, balancing the pot between two fingers with ease. Quickly, she jabbed the needle into Arokan’s flesh, re-dipped