Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,67

energy any longer. I could actually feel something that resembled strength building in me.

I couldn’t even remember the taste of the Uranian Federation rations. That made me feel guilty, as it probably always would. Though I knew that Arokan had fresh bveri meat delivered to my village, it would only be a matter of time before it ran out.

Arokan reached out, the water trickling from his elbow, and he pressed his thumb between the line that had formed between my brows from my thoughts.

“What worries you?” he murmured, his voice deep and quiet and calm, as if a moment before, he hadn’t been kissing my nipples.

I hesitated in telling him, which he noticed. But after a moment, I said, “I was just thinking about my village.”

He exhaled a sharp breath, his hand falling away. He turned his head and plucked more food from the tray, feeding some to me and then eating some himself.

“Do I treat you well?” he asked after an awkward silence.

The question made me blink in surprise. “Yes, Arokan,” I said softly and it was true. “You do.”

He’d never mistreated me. He’d treated me better and with more respect than I could have ever imagined. It had taken me off guard at first, especially considering I’d grown up hearing how merciless and ruthless the Dakkari were.

But I was learning that not all stories and rumors were true. Sometimes, the truth was quite the opposite.

“But you will always remain loyal to your village,” he said next, as if it were obvious. “Not to the horde. Not to me.”

Warning bells went off in my head at his tone. He sounded…disappointed.

“That’s not fair, Arokan,” I whispered.

His eyes studied me. “Tell me how.”

“I know, deep in my heart, that I will probably never see my village again. My brother,” I said. His lips pressed together. “I made you a promise. One I will keep. In a way, my loyalty is to you.”

“And if I released you from your promise?” he questioned quietly next. My brow furrowed, my lips parting. “What would you do? Would you stay or would you leave?”

My mind raced. What was he doing?

“I…” I trailed off. I thought about it. If Arokan allowed me to return to my brother, would I go? “I don’t know,” I whispered, truthful.

His jaw ticked and he looked away.

My chest ached at his expression and I reached out before I knew what I was doing, pressing my palm against his cheek. I’d never touched his face before, but it was surprisingly soft, save for the small battle scars that marred it every so often.

He met my eyes as I said softly, “My village is a place. Though I was born in that village, though I was raised there, it is not my home. My family is my home, my brother is my home. Despite everything he’s done, I still love him. Despite everything I’ve given up for him, I still love him. You cannot ask me to choose. Because I cannot and I will not.”

Arokan looked at me, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. He reached up to touch my hand and my lips parted, remembering what Mirari said, that perhaps a Vorakkar needed softness, needed warmth most of all. My heart twinged in my chest, surprising affection enveloping me.

“You are right, rei Morakkari,” he murmured, surprising me. My Queen. “I should not have asked.”

My heart beat in my chest as I stared into his eyes.

Then he asked, “You were born on Dakkar?”

I blinked. “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“It does,” he admitted. “It seems like not long ago the old king accepted the settlements.”

“Accepted?” I questioned, a small, sardonic smile playing over my lips.

He inhaled a breath. “Forced through the Uranian Federation’s bribery,” he amended.

I relaxed, shaking my head. “That sounds more like it. I always wondered, considering our presence was never…accepted.”

“Dakkari are set in tradition,” he explained after a brief moment of silence between us. “Those in the capital are most opposed. They do not see what the hordes see. The Dothikkar does not even see.”

“And what is that?”

“Your struggle,” he answered.

My brow furrowed.

“Admittedly,” he continued, “even I did not know the length of it until you told me how low your food supply was. We have always assumed that the Uranian Federation treated their refugees well, that they ensured they had enough rations and water and supplies.”

“In the beginning,” I said softly, “they did. When I was young, right around when my brother was born, there was plenty of