The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(74)
I turned my face away.
Narinda’s voice came to me. “Have you forgiven him, Circe?”
“No,” I bit off.
“Her head hasn’t but other parts of her have,” Diandra chimed in and my eyes sliced to her.
“Are you trying to irritate me?” I snapped.
“Yes,” she replied, “you’re very endearing when you’re angry.” She looked at Narinda. “Our king calls it his tigress baring her claws. My husband tells me he speaks openly and often about it, so far as bragging about it. He, too, clearly likes it… even more than me.”
“Will you shut up?” I clipped and she threw her head back and laughed.
Then she focused on me, still chuckling. “The Daxshee is abuzz, as usual and, as usual of late, it’s all about their Dax and golden Dahksahna. The Dax emerges bathed from his cham and doesn’t visit the Xacto. His laughter is heard ringing from his cham, amongst other things. He delays the ride until he’s content with her health. He rides at the front of his warriors with his wife tucked close. He gives her a horse –”
I cut her off with, “You have a horse.”
Her chuckles died, her eyes got serious and I knew Korwahk wisdom was coming even before she replied quietly, “I do, my dear. My Seerim gave me a horse two years after I was claimed.” She looked at Narinda. “You see, the warriors, they war which means they fall. The Horde is everything, they do form friendships, in battle, they will act to protect their brothers-in-arms but they hold themselves distant. Too many opportunities to lose people who are in your heart. It beats down the spirit, weakens it. But a warrior’s horse, now that’s a different story,” she explained. “Warrior and horse ride into battle connected. The horse of a warrior is part of him. They actually consider their steeds an extension of their own limbs. I’ve heard Seerim tell me battle stories of warriors receiving wounds they would not get if they didn’t move to protect their horse from steel.”
“Golly,” Narinda whispered.
“Indeed,” Diandra stated. “This is why, my dears, a newly claimed wife is set to straddling her husband’s steed. It is akin to straddling him but also is a ceremonial offering from warrior to horse on the night a warrior lets in the new most important being in his life, as, while straddling his horse, his new bride will leak his seed which, I think you both have come to understand, is vital to any warrior. Therefore, they feel it is an extremely worthy offering to a creature they feel keeps them safe, makes them strong and is an extension of themselves.”
Yeah, any man, in this world or my own, thinks that kind of offering is “extremely worthy”.
Jeez.
I scrunched my nose at Narinda and she scrunched hers back.
Diandra ignored our looks and kept speaking. “So, obviously, horses as a whole are revered greatly by The Horde. It would be a guess but a good one that a vast amount of warriors pray to the Horse God. And, therefore, owning a mount is considered a privilege. One must deserve their own mount. Young warriors do not get their own mount until they are chosen to perform their first kill which means they’ll have trained for more than a decade before they acquire a steed. That said, it is no surprise that a husband does not bestow such an honor on his wife until he feels she deserves it. For instance, after she has successfully given him their first son or she has spent much time being a good warrior’s wife, providing for his needs. Therefore, the Dax, bestowing a mount of such beauty to his new bride is cause for much gossip. Gossip,” her eyes came to me, “which was mostly speculation until, of course, his cry was heard last night and his mirth heard this morning.” Her face grew wicked as it looked back to Narinda. “It would seem, sweet Narinda, our Dax’s new wife is providing quite well for his needs.”
I stared at her, too shocked at the knowledge that Lahn had given me a horse far earlier than most wives earned one to be irritated at her teasing.
“He is a contradiction,” Narinda muttered and my eyes slid to her to see her staring unseeing into the Daxshee. “From what Circe told me about his mark, I do not wish to like him and every time I see him, he frightens me. Yet much of what you say shows there is a great deal of soft under that hard.”
“I’m not certain, sweet Narinda, it is the soft our queen likes…” she paused and finished with emphasis, “but the hard.”
“Diandra!” I snapped but she chuckled as another giggle escaped Narinda.
Just then, the object of our conversation strode around a cham. He wasn’t close but he wasn’t far and still, his raw energy invaded all around.
I drew in breath as he stopped to talk to two warriors who waylaid him. Then I allowed my eyes to move over my husband.
Okay, well, I wouldn’t admit it out loud but I did have to admit to myself that I definitely liked the hard.
“Oh, what’s this?” Diandra muttered, I tore my eyes from Lahn and looked to my right to see a young boy, slight, perhaps eleven, twelve years old and definitely not of the warrior sort. This was probably why he wasn’t off training somewhere but instead at my cham carrying what looked a great deal like a guitar and sounded like one when my eyes hit him, he swallowed, looked up to a woman who was standing beside him and then he started strumming and then, falteringly, singing.
The woman moved forward and laid a flower carefully on the hides well away from me or my girls then she scuttled back, her eyes shooting in Lahn’s direction and back to me as her boy sang.