Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,64
screaming. A pyroki was on her, attacking her, biting her stomach and her arms…and I ran into the clearing, not even thinking. It bolted when it saw me, but the damage was done.”
“Luna,” Arokan murmured, turning my face so he could see me. His lips were pulled down into a frown, but his eyes were soft.
I swallowed, blinking back tears as I looked at him. “It was awful,” I whispered. “I was in shock and she was still alive, but in a tremendous amount of pain. There was blood, so much blood. Black on that ice. And I kept thinking the pyroki would return. But my mother saw me and told me to protect Kivan. Always. I promised her that I would.
“Then she handed me the blade. It was slippery with her blood,” I said, though I wasn’t even sure I was talking to Arokan anymore. “She asked me to…to…and I did. I had to. I didn’t want her to suffer and I knew she was beyond help. But—,” my lip trembled as I admitted, “I fear I made it worse. I was clumsy with a blade, didn’t know how to use it and I—I—”
“Kalles, look at me,” Arokan said gently. My eyes found his and I’d never felt more vulnerable and exposed, sitting there in the bathing tub with him, with only the light from the candles illuminating our eyes, as I spilled my darkest memory. “You were brave. Not many would have done that, but you were brave and you loved her enough to want to end her pain. Do not be ashamed of that.”
“But I am,” I said. “I’d never felt weaker.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
He made a sound in his throat, his eyes closing for a brief moment. “Not more than a child yourself.”
“I was old enough,” I whispered. “And if I’d been strong enough to call her back, if I hadn’t wanted to eat, she would still be alive. It was my fault.”
Arokan ran his hand down my wet hair, fresh from washing. He was quiet for a moment and then said softly, “Pyrokis give birth in the cold season and the wild ones build their nests in the ice forests across Dakkar.”
My brow furrowed. “What?” I whispered.
“They are fierce creatures when their young are threatened. I am certain that was why your mother was attacked. She accidentally came across a wild pyroki nest and the mother was defending what she believed a threat to her offspring. Just like your mother, she was desperate to save her young.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as that knowledge sunk in.
“They are not normally vicious creatures,” he said gently. “But they form strong attachments to their offspring and protect them at any cost, just like humans, just like Dakkari. Your mother’s death was a tragedy, kalles. She was in the wrong place at the wrong moment. Do not ever think that it was your fault, Luna.”
A part of me would always know the truth. That I could’ve prevented her death. Nothing would change that. I had internalized it so deep, that guilt, that I had thrown myself into doing what I’d promised her: protect Kivan. I had forgotten myself in doing so. I had worked long hours and slept little. I had snuck portions of my food into his so he wouldn’t go as hungry. I had defended him against the village, to Polin when he’d wanted to exile him to another settlement for another one of his failed mishaps.
I had bargained with a horde king to save his life, although right then, that didn’t feel like a hardship. Not when I was fed, clean, and protected. Not when Arokan’s warmth felt like a luxury. Not when his deep voice sent shivers down my spine and he touched me like I was a gift.
He was strong and brave and he made the decisions that no one else wanted to make, just like Hukan said.
I admired him for that, though it also frightened me.
I remembered feeling weak after my mother died. I remembered being afraid. I never wanted to feel that way again.
“Arokan,” I said softly, remembering what Mirari had said about the Dakkari females.
“Lysi?”
I took a deep breath and asked, “Will you teach me how to fight? How to wield a blade? How to be strong?”
He cocked his head ever so slightly, studying me, his lips still pulled down into a frown.
“Knowing how to fight with a blade does not make you strong, kalles,” he said, his tone gentle.