The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(76)
Bohtan went on. “Do not answer that, I know you do. This could not be missed considering you rarely miss an opportunity to show us what a warrior you are by thrusting your c**k into in any hole your animal provides.”
“My bride is none of your concern!” Dortak shouted, yanking on her chain again.
“But she isn’t your bride!” Bohtan shot back, having made it to Dortak, he leaned in dangerously. “She’s nothing but an animal you’ve brought to heel. You sully The Horde with your actions, thrusting into her face at the games, challenging our Dax while armed, disrespecting our queen in front of our king.”
Diandra gasped at Dortak’s reply and I knew not only by her gasp but the fact the air went still that something very, very bad had happened.
A glance showed she’d gone pale and I whispered urgently, “What?”
She didn’t tear her eyes off what was happening when she whispered back. “Dortak said, ‘I care not for our queen or a king whose new wife rides so soon after the claiming. The yellow one has had his c**k two weeks and she’s leading him around by it. Our king is the one who has come to heel.’” Her eyes slid to Lahn and she finished, “That is a challenge.”
Oh shit.
My eyes moved to Lahn too. He was surveying the scene with his arms crossed on his chest and an expression on his face that stated clearly he found it mildly interesting. But only mildly.
“You challenge the Dax?” Diandra interpreted what a warrior standing with Lahn called to Dortak.
“What Dax?” Dortak spit the words then he spit into the ground in Lahn’s direction. “I see no Dax.”
Finally, Lahn spoke and he did this mildly too.
“I advise you stop taking your fists and your c**k to your bride, Dortak, so you can heal. I want you fit before I bring you to your knees and take your head.”
“I claim the Dax,” Dortak shot back, “the first thing I do is thrust my c**k into the yellow one, spilling my seed until it leaks out of every orifice in her body.”
I sucked in breath but Lahn grinned and I stared at his reaction in shock.
Then Diandra gasped again but quickly translated Lahn’s words, “You take my head, the Gods would weep because the world is falling from the sky. You get near my tigress, she’ll sink her claws in you and you’ll be looking at your innards spilling out before your last breath escapes your body.” Diandra looked at me. “This is a grave insult to any warrior, my dear, to infer a woman could best him.”
It would be a grave insult to anyone. Still, it was a pretty awesome comeback.
Diandra started translating again as Dortak spat, “The yellow one owns your cock!”
To this, Lahn returned, “You speak truth and I’m glad of it, she knows what to do with it and she likes what she knows how to do. While I was driving it inside her last night, my queen gasped that she loved my c**k right before I planted my seed in her womb, seed that might make a warrior, seed that’s already more warrior than you.”
“Holy crap,” I whispered. That was a good comeback too, perhaps a little on the personal side, but a good one.
“I don’t even know what that means and I’ll say you can say that again,” Narinda whispered.
Diandra translated Dortak shouting, “I take your head tomorrow!”
To which Lahn replied, “No, I want you fit before we toss your headless carcass on the pyre. You’ve got two weeks, Dortak. Then our steel clashes.”
Dortak glared at Lahn a second before he swung his angry gaze to Bohtan who was still close.
Diandra interpreted. “Before I claim the Dax, you,” and he jerked a finger at Bohtan, “watch yourself and keep your mind off my bride.”
“You,” Bohtan returned, “treat her like a bride and I will. You keep treating her like a dog I’ll be forced to put her down like one to put her out of her misery.”
I pulled in breath at Bohtan’s words (words I hoped he didn’t mean) as Dortak’s face got so red I thought his head would explode then Lahn entered the conversation.
“Bohtan, enough, your point is made.”
The king spoke so Bohtan took a step back but his eyes didn’t unlock from Dortak.
Then Diandra translated Bohtan saying, “After the Dax cuts your tail from your lifeless head and it falls from his saddle, I will be the first to seize it and present it to your bride as my wedding gift.”
Then he turned and walked away, his eyes coming to me briefly before he bowed his head for a second and then he stormed out of sight.
“What’s a tail?” Narinda asked softly while I tried to catch my breath but instead caught my husband’s eyes.
“It is their hair.” I heard Diandra answer. “After a challenge, the victor ties the head of the vanquished to his saddle and rides through the Daxshee. When he’s done celebrating, however long that takes, he releases the head from his saddle by slicing it off at their tail. After that, the head is at the mercy of whoever grabs it, they can do whatever they wish with it and the warrior’s body is burned headless on his pyre. It is important to anyone to have their pyre so their ashes can drift to the heavens, body joining spirit. The Korwahk, Maroo, any person from the Southlands has this same belief and any body not fired is thought to roam this realm as an unseen, unheard, powerless phantom. Not burning the head is a final indignity for a warrior’s defeat for they will wander eternity headless, a reminder of their humiliation.”