Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,7
The rest of the horde that traveled with him followed suit.
A signal, I realized.
More Dakkari emerged from their tents, some completely nude, which embarrassed me. But what surprised me the most was that females and children were among them, traveling with the hordes.
As the horde king guided his beast into the camp, winding around the tents towards the forest’s edge, Dakkari surrounded them, lining up along the makeshift road. My head swiveled from side-to-side, looking at unfamiliar faces. I felt their eyes on me, felt their curiosity, or perhaps their animosity.
But the males cheered with that loud trill as we passed and I jumped when I felt foreign hands on my legs. The Dakkari people—males, females, and children alike—reached out their hands to pass it over the horde king’s creature, over the horde king’s legs, and by extension, my own.
Finally, once they passed most of the tents, he stopped his beast with a firm tug of the golden chains near a wide enclosure. My lips parted, my chest squeezing, when I realized it was an enclosure for the beasts, with numerous troughs of raw, pink meat and clear water filled to the brim. I stared at that raw meat, thought of my hungry village with our dead crops and withering Uranian Federation rations, and turned my head away. Their beasts were eating better than we were.
There were hundreds of them, all enclosed within the single pen, but they had ample space to roam. The enclosure was larger than the entire encampment. I saw hundreds of red eyes in the darkness, their hides glimmering in gold paint.
The horde king dismounted with a surprising grace, handing the gold reins to a Dakkari male who came to greet him. Reaching up for me, my new keeper grasped my waist and easily swung me down, setting me on my feet beside him. I swallowed a hiss when the pain registered, everything stiff and sore from my waist down.
The horde king turned from me and gently took his beast’s snout in his wide palm. He leaned close, looking into its red eyes, and murmured something in Dakkari, his voice soft. The beast made a chirring sound in its long neck and was led away by the other Dakkari male. Once inside the pen, it immediately went to eat from one of the nearest troughs.
Without a single word—he hadn’t said a single word to me since we’d left my village—the horde king led me to the largest domed tent in the entire encampment. Stationed outside were two Dakkari males, who inclined their heads in greeting to their leader, ignoring my presence completely.
The horde king jerked his chin at the thick flaps of the tent, his eyes on me. Then he turned to the guards and spoke in Dakkari, probably along the lines of ‘make sure she doesn’t escape.’
Like I could.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if I escaped, the horde king would return to my village and kill my brother as retaliation, perhaps more villagers in the process. I had accepted my fate, had agreed to it, had promised that I would serve him. I intended to, but I felt my soul slowly begin to wither at the prospect of it.
With that in mind, I stepped through the tent flaps, under the watchful gaze of the horde king. He was testing me, I realized. He wanted to see what I would do.
Screw him, I thought. There was a fire still within me, an anger. As long as I held onto that, my soul would stand a fighting chance.
Warmth enveloped my cloaked body when I stepped inside the tent. I hadn’t quite known what to expect, but my widened eyes took in luxurious surroundings, some luxuries I had never seen before.
Like plush carpets that lined the floor, soft beneath my booted feet—the soles of which were failing. Like wax candles that drenched the tent in golden light or little vases of hot oils that filled the space with a light, delicious fragrance. Like an actual bed set up on a low pallet draped in soft furs and cushions, not a simple pile of blankets on the floor like back home. Like a row of chests on the floor that glimmered with gold and the horde king’s treasures.
For a long moment, I simply stood on the threshold of the tent, taking in my new surroundings. My new prison. Because I couldn’t forget that this tent was still my cage, one I’d willingly chosen.