Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,5

me aside, his sudden strength surprising. But the sword was too heavy for him, sagging in both hands, even as he tried to swing it at the horde king, who easily dodged the clumsy maneuver.

Horror filled me. I cried out, “Kivan, stop!”

Fool, fool, fool! Surely they would kill him now.

“Nik, pyroth!” the horde king ordered his Dakkari when they raised their weapons. They halted immediately, though they didn’t lower them, just simply stopped their advance. The horde king’s hand flashed out, gripping the sword by the edge and he flung it out of my brother’s grasp with ease. He seemed to grow in size, his expression darkening, my brother’s actions yet again an insult to the Dakkari.

I swung on the horde king, stepping between them, holding my hands out in supplication. “P-please. I will go with you now. Please just do not…do not hurt him.”

His nostrils flared wide, but at least his attention was on me, not on my brother.

“Please,” I begged and I had never begged before in my life. I had no pride when it came to my brother, the only family I had left. “Please. Just take me. I promise I will serve you. I will do whatever you want, just do not hurt him.”

Long moments of thick tension lapsed. Even the Dakkari males seemed to wait for their horde king’s decision with bated breath.

He finally growled, “We ride out now.”

Relief made me sag, but my reprieve was short.

In one swift movement, all the Dakkari sheathed their gold blades as the horde king turned back towards the entrance. My lips parted when I saw the scars across his back, as if he’d been whipped. Brutally.

“Come now,” he barked over his shoulder and halted, waiting for me.

Kivan stood, still encircled by the Dakkari, frozen from shock, fear, disbelief. I went to him, embracing him, which I never did.

Softly, I whispered, “I will see you again. I promise.”

His arms were still at his sides. He didn’t want to accept this, but I wished he would return my embrace.

“Come,” the horde king commanded again. My heart squeezed in my chest, tears burning my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“Go inside,” I said finally, pulling back. “Be safe, Kivan.”

I looked at him, one last time, saw that his pupils were dilated, his face pale. He was in shock. I turned away before I started crying. I had to be strong now. For him. And for myself.

Halting just behind the horde king, I saw him look at me before ordering, “Vir drak!”

His Dakkari fell away from Kivan, the messenger falling into place beside him. We walked down the village road, their footsteps vibrating the ground beneath me. In a state of shock, I followed, clutching my ripped cloak around me, as if it would protect me like a shield from what was happening. I caught sight of a few faces peeking out from windows of homes we passed, usually small children before their mothers ripped them away. Otherwise, the village was drenched in night and darkness.

The entrance of the village, the only place I’d ever known, was in sight. I saw Polin standing there, watching with narrowed eyes. That was when I heard Kivan shout, “Luna! Luna, no!”

I looked over my shoulder, saw my brother running towards the Dakkari. Looking back to Polin, I pleaded, “Take him! Take him away!”

Polin didn’t move.

Desperation rose in my throat and I cried out, “You owe me, Polin. You owe it to me! Now take him back inside!”

Something came over Polin’s face. The horde never stopped moving, despite my outburst, despite the horde king looking back at me with an unreadable expression in those yellow-rimmed eyes.

Finally, Polin slid past the Dakkari, careful not to step in their path, and moved to intercept Kivan. Despite Polin’s age, he was still stronger and larger than my brother and managed to hold him back. I heard my brother’s struggles, however, the way he called after me, his voice clogged with tears and fury and sadness. It would always haunt me, I knew.

The entrance gates creaked open when the messenger pushed them aside roughly. And waiting at the entrance were the black-scaled beasts of my nightmares.

The Dakkari slid around me, each going to their respective monster, except for the horde king. He appeared at my side, grasping me around my waist and leading me over to the only creature that remained without a rider.

I knew it was his. It was by far the largest, most battle-worn beast of