The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(100)

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.”

I pressed my lips together, his eyes flared, I quickly released them and whispered back, “Okay, Lahn.”

His hand gave me a squeeze and he repeated, “He will not best me.” Then he went on with another squeeze but this time, his hand held tight. “This is my vow to you. I face this contest to defend my title as the Dax but I also face this challenge knowing that if he were to take my head, I would die and spend my time in the other realm knowing he would handle you and he would do it worse than he did his bride. I would not allow that to happen and I am not about to fall and let it happen. I am your husband, I will keep you safe and I will do it by keeping my feet on this earth, breathing the air and being there to make you safe. Do you understand this?”

Okay. Okay.

Shit. Okay.

There it was. I really liked my husband.

And after his declaration, the only thing I could do was whisper, “Yes.”

“Okay?” he asked on another squeeze of my neck.

“Yes, Lahn, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he returned then let my neck go and moved slightly back, ordering, “Make it heavy, my queen. In less than two hours, I want there to be enough on me to cover your na**d body in my black.”

That got an all over skin tingle.

“Uh… okay,” I breathed, that word not trembling at all and he grinned.

“Okay,” he replied and he let my wrist go.

I dipped my head and commenced painting my husband’s fantastic chest, arms, back and face in killer, kickass streaks of black.

* * * * *

Lahn and I walked together through the Daxshee to the clearing with the platform where Mahyah had (essentially) taken her own life.

Lahn did not touch me but he walked at my side through the parting sea of people who had come to watch. He wore his belt with knives and his sword strapped to his back, the only weapons he was allowed during a challenge, though, I was told by Lahn, this was done on an honor system. Like the fights at the games, there was no referee. During a challenge, anything goes and no one checked to make certain that someone was not intending to fight fair.

When we made it to the clearing, I saw Dortak was already there, painted in black and red, his wounds exposed and healing but not healed. He was grinning and God, I would be happy when that grin was frozen on his face in death.

I tore my eyes from his as I walked with Lahn to the platform. When we both lifted a leg to step up, the drums started. Hearing them, it took superhuman effort not to start trembling again. This was not because I didn’t believe in Lahn, it was just because I hated those f**king drums. It was an automatic reaction and one I managed (quite proudly, might I add) to beat back.

Lahn guided me to my throne, a throne that, again, Bain and Zahnin stood behind.

I was looking at them so I didn’t see what Lahn did to make them both jerk their chins up at him but I didn’t like that. That said Lahn was planning for an eventuality that was different than the one he’d vowed he’d make for me. It was nice and all that, he was covering his bases and doing it to ascertain that I would be safe, for I knew from those chin lifts that Bain and Zahnin had both vowed they would stand against Dortak should he best Lahn and turn to me.

But still.

I beat back the fear that too sent surging through my system, sedately turned and sat on my throne.

Diandra didn’t attend me because she no longer had to. My Korwahk was still not fluent but I’d been exposed to it long enough that I more than knew my way around.

I was going to miss her.

I looked up at Lahn to see him standing at the edge of the platform, his painted back to me, hands on his hips, eyes on Dortak.

The drumming stopped.

Thank God.

Lahn didn’t move and the crowd stayed silent.

Then Dortak shouted, “When I take your head, your body will not be thrown on the pyre,” he lifted a hand to point at a pyre already set up some distance away on top of the rise we went over to get to Mahyah’s, “I will toss it in the river. Then I will mount your head outside my cham and keep it there so every time your yellow one enters and leaves my cham, she will see it as the flesh rots to skull.”

I clenched my teeth together and forced my hands to stay loose in my lap.

Lahn didn’t move or speak.

Dortak didn’t like that and, being Dortak, pushed it even further. “Before that, I will strip your yellow one na**d and ride with her through the Daxshee while I force her to hold your head. Then I will rip off her yellow crown of feathers, shove them up her cunt and take her through her ass. In the months to come, while I use her until she is no longer of use to me, the sounds coming from her in my cham will be much different from those she cried in yours.”