“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 naked 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 fucking 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 naked 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.”
Yep. One could say it was official. I wasn’t going to lose a lot of sleep when Lahn took his head.
At this, Lahn moved and what he moved to do made me suck in breath and hold it.
He removed his belt, turned to me and handed me his knives. My eyes darting up to him, my hands automatically lifted to accept them. Then he unbuckled the strap on his chest and slipped off his sword. After he had done this, he laid it across my throne so it was resting on the arms.
Then, still bent so his face was level to mine, his painted eyes came to me and I saw it… I saw it… his golden, bright, brutal spirit was shining close to the surface and let’s just say it… was… pissed.
Uh-oh. Dortak was in trouble.
The breath flooded my lungs, the tension evaporated from my body and I grinned at him.
“Give him hell, tiger,” I whispered.
He held my eyes a second before he blinked and his spirit was hidden, his fury gone.
Then, swear to God, he winked at me.
No joke! Winked!
I stifled a giggle.
Then my husband turned and moved off the platform.
