“Then wouldn’t you argue that the war with the Hartans taught the Karag to trust less, to not be so merciful?”

“I’m trying to make you understand that war only happens in extreme circumstances and usually on the heels of a horrendous act that cannot be forgiven,” Sarkin answered, more passionate than I’d ever seen him, his cheeks flushed, a scowl on his face. “There are those in Elysom who believe that as long as the Dakkari have possession of the heartstones, there will always be a threat of war. That is why we’ve been watching you for the last few decades. Your people do not yet have the technologies that would be a great threat to us…but with time, you will.”

“So you will take the heartstones away,” I answered, his hands falling away from my face. “Now that you know where they are. You hoped they were here. But maybe there was a reason Zaridan marked me, a descendent of Rath Drokka. To lead you to the thalara tree, where my ancestor had once found a heartstone.”

“Perhaps,” Sarkin said, and I didn’t know why I felt such a stunning throb of disappointment at the word. I couldn’t help but rear back, but Sarkin took my hand, not allowing me to pull away. “But I like to think there was a greater reason.”

A little pinprick of hope had me raising my eyes to his.

“And what is that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, a slight smile lifting the left side of his mouth. He wouldn’t tell me. Instead, he sighed and leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine. I met his kiss hesitantly, but I met it nonetheless.

“The Karag have more honor than swooping into another territory and stealing something infinitely valuable, like common thieves,” he told me when he pulled back. I felt the words across my lips as his eyes dipped to them. “I will need to take this information to Elysom. There will be negotiations. To destroy a thalara tree is a dire choice, but Dakkar will get their share. And yes, after my showing of the ethrall, your father might think twice about trying for more.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I couldn’t help but ask. “If he argues that the tree grew in Dakkari soil, then it wouldn’t belong to you and you would have no claim to it. You cannot deny that truth.”

“There is the possibility, yes,” Sarkin said. “Technically we have no claim to the heartstones. But we do need them. To create more. And we won’t be denied them.”

My belly dipped with realization. “Then it is very beneficial to you that you have a Dakkari wife, who is a daughter of the Dothikkar. Elysom will realize the gift you’ve given them even if they believe you’d first married me out of spite.”

Sarkin scowled. “That’s not what this is about, Klara.”

“Isn’t it? Will you use me in your negotiations to get what you want?”

“If I must, but no harm would ever come to you.”

“But you would make my family believe that it might. My father might not care. But my brother would,” I told him. “If you use me as leverage in your negotiations, then where is your loyalty to me, Sarkin? Or does it only matter when my allegiance is to you and only you?”

His expression was thunderous, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“I’m not going to get into an argument with you about hypotheticals, Klara,” he finally said. “It’s pointless.”

He didn’t understand what I was trying to say, did he?

I shook him off. Suddenly I felt sad, a deep despair blooming in my belly. I still felt the heat of his touch on my skin, but I’d never felt colder.

We lapsed into silence. The night that had once seemed so magical and lovely now felt suffocating.

“Can we go back to the horde now?” I asked. “I don’t want to stay here tonight.”

I could feel Sarkin’s frustration. “Klara.”

“Hanniva,” I said softly. Please.

Earlier I’d used that word to beg him to touch me. Now I used it to get away from him.

Sarkin’s lips pressed together, but I saw his hand move. It went to the black cuff on his wrist, pressing a button on the side, one that he’d told me let out a sound we couldn’t hear but Elthika could.

A moment later, I heard Zaridan’s response, a muted roar, somewhere nearby, followed by the rushing sound of her great wings.

“Whatever you wish,” Sarkin told me.

When he turned to pack up our supplies and put out the fire, I caught movement along the opposite cliff. My heart jolted when I saw the silvery scales flash in the light of the moon. An Elthika had been watching us.

It was him.

The one from my dreams.

I recognized him instantly, like a bolt of lightning had speared through me, sparking in my veins, making me straighten.

His great body moved gracefully as it flew in the pass, sticking close to the side of the cliffs. He was silent, I realized. Like a ghost. Like he had never been there at all.

With my heartbeat in my throat, I watched him disappear from view, diving deeper down in the rocky ravine until the darkness swallowed him up.

Gone. As quickly as I’d realized he was there.

When Sarkin turned, already dressed and hitching the pack up his shoulder, I thought about telling him what I’d seen.

“You should get dressed,” he told me softly, handing me the clothes I’d fallen in over a dozen times. How long ago that seemed now.

With one last look down the darkened pass, I decided to hold my tongue.

Maybe I had seen a ghost.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 31KLARA

The new bed was waiting for me when I stepped into our dwelling. There was a break in our training for the afternoon, and I wanted to escape the plethora of activity in the horde, opting instead for quiet and peace.

Gone was the simple pile of fur blankets and cushions we’d been sleeping on. Instead, there was a padded and plush cushion—the largest I’d ever seen and hand sewn with embroidered silver patterns—where Sarkin’s raised bed used to be. On top were some of the softest pelts of white-and-brown furs. I sank down onto the cushion, testing its give, and spread my hand through the blankets.

It was heavenly.

Sarkin had done this for me?

I didn’t want to get it dirty—I was caked in mud from the river and sweat—so I rose immediately, backing up a few paces to admire it more fully. A smile played over my lips. It was one of the nicest gifts I’d ever received, though admittedly, I hadn’t received that many in my lifetime. But it was the meaning behind it that made it special.

There was a permanence about it. I’d told him that I’d like to sleep closest to the earth, to feel more grounded and rooted with our goddess, Kakkari. He hadn’t complained once, though we’d been, essentially, sleeping on the floor.

Then my smile died into a sigh. I went to all the windows and opened them up, placing the sprig of a blooming vine across the high table, admiring the way it draped over the edge and the colors that the pink blossoms added. It was sunny and bright in our dwelling. I went to the ice box along the wall, pulling out an orb of fruit I’d learned was called slime fruit. The texture was more jelly than solid, but I enjoyed the subtle sweetness and the cool glide across my tongue. It was especially good spooned over Mazra’s hot cakes, the grumpy cook always slightly pleased when I asked for one or two from her kitchen.

Unlike a Dakkari horde’s voliki, Karag dwellings had small kitchens and hearths. Though there was a central cooking hub in the village and most of our meals had been brought to us, hot and delicious, I’d learned most households cooked their own food throughout the day, which accounted for the little gardens I’d seen next to many of the dwellings here. Families traded each other for meat and spices or worked for meals from the cooking hub, performing jobs and tasks around the encampment. The Sarrothian who lived here were free to hunt in the forests in the Arsadia. They hauled in their own water from the river.