This didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill for a burrito or a cell phone where I could call Diandra or Narinda rather than traipsing all the way to their chams with one of my guards in hopes they were home when I wanted company, but as the days went on, these longings faded, my memories of home faded and Korwahk became my reality.
When I allowed myself to think of it, I told myself I would, and soon, find out what was happening and then make a decision about what I would do next.
But, for now, I would give myself this.
Because I liked it.
See? Stupid.
I totally should have sorted that all out before Lahn faced Dortak in the contest for the Dax and maybe got himself injured, something I would have to watch or, God forbid, the gods of this world wept because the earth was falling from the sky and Dortak took my husband’s beautiful head, then he turned to me.
See?
Totally.
Stupid.
* * * * *
I set the pot on the table and turned to Lahn. Not looking in his eyes, I started at the indentation of his collarbone and drew a heavy line down his chest, starting to paint the design I hadn’t realized until then I had memorized.
“Uh…” I mumbled in order to take my mind off the day’s events and take Lahn’s off the fact that I hadn’t quite controlled the trembling of my hand, “you only wear black. What do the other colors warriors bear signify?”
I didn’t look at him when I asked my question but I knew he’d tilted his head down to look at me as he answered.
“White is an unseasoned warrior, new to the kill. Red indicates those who go on campaign. Blue, those who go to war or patrol Korwahk. All colors, those who are seasoned, who have gone on raids and handled themselves well in war and therefore have proven themselves. They can choose to raid or war or both. Green, a color you may not have seen, are warriors who now spend their time training. Those wearing only black are my lieutenants, warriors who have my ear, who lead troops on assignment or who belong to The Horde that travels with the Daxshee, in other words, they have also proven themselves in battle; they are our finest warriors and therefore hold a high rank.”
“Mm hmm,” I mumbled, listening but not listening then, twisting, I grabbed the pot, gouged out more paint and turned back to him, lifting my hand to start on the arcs.
I didn’t touch his skin. This was because his fingers wrapped around wrist.
Then he said softly in English, “Give me your golden eyes, Circe.”
I bit my lip then lifted my eyes to his. I knew I was not hiding anything when his went soft and his hand tightened around my wrist.
“He will not best me,” he whispered, again in English.
“Right,” I whispered back but that one word trembled.
His brows rose slightly. “You do not have faith in your king?”
I shook my head once. “No, I do.” Then I was still whispering, my voice continuing to tremble, when I said, “He cheats.”
“I know this,” Lahn replied and when I made no response, his other hand came up and curled around the back of my neck, holding me warmly there. “Because I know this, do you not think I have planned for it?”
Um… actually, no. That thought hadn’t occurred to me.
“Uh,” I started then admitted, “No. I didn’t. I’ve been too busy freaking out.”
Whereas when amongst the Korwahk, I almost always spoke Korwahk, when Lahn was in our tent, he demanded we converse in English. He caught on quickly proving maybe, he actually was a god or at least he was super clever. Further, this aided in softening my heart because I liked that he wanted to learn my language and share that with me.
So now he asked, “Freaking out? You use this expression in many different ways.”
“Well, this time, I mean worried, upset and a lot of both,” I explained and his eyes roamed my face.
Then his hand at my neck pulled me in and up as he bent so his lips could touch mine.
He moved away an inch before he whispered, “He will not best me, Circe.”