But it bothered me that others might. That I would turn into my stepmother, that despite all of her strength, despite her good family name, everything she’d accomplished…it could still be tarnished at the hands of her husband.

That was why I could never blame her for her hatred of me.

I’d made the air between us tight and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean it quite like that.”

“The Karath is a good leader,” she told me. “Any of us would be glad to follow him. He is bound in honor as well. It includes all vows made, even to you.” She dropped her voice. “I’m sure it’s overwhelming. I’m glad I’m not you, to be honest. Thrown into a new life as you were.”

I swallowed, turning my head to regard the edge of the forest where Sarkin had disappeared before I forced myself to look away.

Though it was strange to ask, I realized that I could. “What is your name?”

The girl smiled. “Sammenth.”

Pretty name. I wondered what it meant.

“I’m Klara,” I said. “You’ve been kind to me. I won’t forget it.”

She looked down at my untouched tray of food. “The Sarrothian, I know, are a difficult people to connect with. They don’t like outsiders. And they certainly don’t like outsiders who will become their queen.”

“Then why, Sammenth, have you been so kind to me?” I asked, trying to understand.

“Because I know what it’s like to be an outsider,” she confessed. “I am not a true Sarrothian. Half of my ancestors were Dakkari.”

A jolt went through me. I heard myself exhale a sharp, small breath.

A million questions bubbled in my mind, but I kept my lips firmly pressed together. I would scare her away if I bombarded her with questions.

Instead, I asked a single one. “How?”

“Sammenth!” someone called. A group of riders were looking at her expectantly, one waving a loaf of bread in the air. They were all young, I noticed. Their faces unlined by the seriousness and intensity of Sarkin’s riders. Novice riders? I wondered.

There was eagerness on Sammenth’s face when she turned back to me. “We’ll talk again, and I’ll tell you. I promise. Eat now. And rest. We have another long travel day tomorrow.”

And before I could protest, she stood and walked back toward the group, stretched out on their sides or sitting on tree logs they’d pulled from the forest around us. Sammenth grinned, gladly accepting a bowl of broth thrust into her chest. She pushed off a male from the log, who toppled over with a sharp laugh, and took his seat.

She’d learned to be accepted. A Dakkari…just like me.

I could scarcely believe it. But how that was possible, I didn’t know. Though I had my suspicions…guided by the stories my mother had told me all my life. Fantasy stories, I’d always thought. But ever since her death…I’d begun to see them as truth, especially as my own gift had manifested quicker and stronger as I’d aged.

“Finished eating?” came the gruff question.

Sarkin appeared, peering down at me and my full tray of food. He crouched, snagging my bread, bringing it up to his lips and tearing off a bite.

“Have you?” I returned, raising a brow when he dropped the bread back onto the tray. I studied him, looking for unkempt clothing or any laces undone.

His chin lowered to regard me. “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Your tone implies otherwise.”

I didn’t want to talk about this, especially since I didn’t even know what I was feeling. “How did the Dakkari come to be here? In Karak?”

Sarkin exhaled sharply. “They came on ships. Long ago. There were hordes along the southern shores for nearly a century. I figured you would have known.”

My jaw dropped. “Of course not. There’s no record of it in our archives.”

“Ah, but you knew, aralye, didn’t you?”

My nostrils flared. His hand reached out to grip my chin, studying me, his eyes flickering to my scar.

If not for this scar, he never would’ve looked at me twice, I realized. It was because of this scar that I was here.

And perhaps I should’ve been grateful for it because he’d been ready to use the ethrall on all of Dothik.

“Finish eating. We’re sleeping up on the cliffs tonight.”

I gaped. “Why?”

After last night? Was he insane?

“Zaridan won’t sleep on the earth, and I’m taking first watch. Since you sleep with me, you go too. No exceptions.”

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Chapter 13SARKIN

“What is that you need to watch out for?” came Klara’s quiet question.

I’d been observing her as she stood by the edge of the cliff, my eyes taking her in as I would an opponent…or a lover. Watchful and careful and hungry.

She turned to regard me with those light gray eyes. Her hands were clasped demurely behind her back. Her hair was plaited into a neat braid, wispy tendrils of it having escaped on the flight up here, which framed her soft features. I spied the small tips of her pointed ears peeking out, distractingly delicate. I couldn’t see her scar from this angle. For the first time, I wondered if I’d stolen her from a lover in Dothik. A mate.

Good, came the sudden, stray, and surprising thought. I was used to feeling possessive over things I considered mine, but I hadn’t expected those uncontrollable feelings to extend to her.

She’s my responsibility. That’s why I feel this way, I reasoned.

When I quirked a brow, she asked, “You said you were taking the first watch. For what?”

I grunted, tearing into the chunk of bread filled with meat. Flying always made me ravenous even though Zaridan was doing most of the work.

“Elthika,” I answered.

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. I thought the Elthika were friendly to the Karag.”

“Bonded ones, yes,” I answered, my nostrils flaring in slight frustration. She was like a child, wasn’t she? She knew nothing of our kind, of our race. But I needed to have patience with her, which was never a strength of mine. “We are nearing the northern border into Elysom’s channel. The East is Elthika territory. The Sarrothian have territory there too, but it is still wild land and under Elthikan rule.”

Klara turned fully to regard me, the moonlight illuminating the scar—Muron’s mark—on her face.

“We are in the outer lands,” I told her, sweeping my hand toward the view she’d been admiring. “The Elthika that live in this territory are not bound by traditional Elthikan law. They are the dragons that have forsaken it, and as such, it is dangerous territory to be in for very long. Zaridan does have sway here, as does Levanth’s. But that will only extend so far if we overstay our welcome.”

“So much to learn,” she said softly. Her spine straightened. Her chin rising. “But I’m up to the task. I was a scholar in Dothik, you know.”

I snorted. “You think your scrolls and books will help you here?”

“No, perhaps not. But my need for knowledge will,” she answered, surprising me. I heard the quiet confidence in her voice.

“Are you not frustrated by your lack of it?” I wanted to know.

“Of course I am. But I know that knowledge comes slowly. It is absorbed and savored like a wine. It might be tempting to chug it down, to quench that unyielding, maddening thirst, but in order to understand something fully, with the appreciation it deserves…knowledge, complete knowledge, demands patience. And even then, it is ever changing. That’s what my mother always said.”

I had stopped eating to regard her, her words holding me like a vise.

“It will frustrate you to know then that your soon-to-be husband has never read a book in his life,” I lied, to see what she would say. “The Sarrothian pride themselves on physical and mental strength, unshakeable honor, and willpower. Perhaps you would have been better suited for a nobleman in Elysom.”