She gave me a gentle smile before saying, “It is the Korwahk people’s belief that the mightiest Dax in their history will find the golden queen, a warrior bride, fair of hair, kind of heart, fierce of spirit. This story has been told for centuries, millennia… the mighty Dax and his golden Dahksahna would unite and the Golden Dynasty would begin bringing the Korwahk nation great wealth, abundant crops, fruitful women. Magic would descend upon the land and the Korwahk people would be safe under the strength of their king and the enchantments of their queen.”
“That’s… that’s… that’s whacked, ” I told her, lifting up to sitting, pulling the sheet over my breasts and when her face grew confused, I explained quickly, “Insane. Crazy.”
She shook her head and sat back, smiling at me. “They do not think it is crazy. They believe it is true. Every generation prays that the mighty king and golden queen will reign during their time on this earth. And they believe when the mighty Dax finds his golden queen, he will clothe her in gold before the rite and install her at his side. This is what the Dax did. And this is not something he would do unless he believed he had found his golden queen and…” she leaned forward, “this is what he did. And in so doing, he brought great joy to his people. But you do not show yourself. You do not walk amongst them. You hide in your tent and there are whispers.
Whispers that you are not what he said you were. Whispers that the Dax lied to them, bragged with falsehood, claimed a Dynasty that was not his to claim. And this is very dangerous, these whispers, dangerous for him and for you. ”
I stared at her knowing my eyes were wide.
“Why?” I asked on a breath.
“Because, my dear, there is no dynasty amongst the Korwahk now. A Dax becomes a Dax through challenge. He does not inherit a kingdom, he seizes it,” she whispered.
Oh boy.
She kept speaking. “The Dax only stays the Dax as long as he can defeat any challenge. If he is killed, his reign transfers to the warrior who defeated him or, when he knows he can no longer stand up to a challenge, he and his queen go into exile and they do not live with The Horde of the Daxshee. But by claiming you his golden queen, he claimed the reign for himself until his death and then his son and so on until the Golden Dynasty falls, if it ever does. This is not a trivial claim to make. It challenges their way of life. There will be those who will wish to prove it wrong, there will be challenges to
the Dynasty and you, hiding in your tents and not showing them you are their golden warrior queen, are putting our Dax in jeopardy.”
That I didn’t care about.
No freaking way.
“And?” I asked sharply and she blinked.
Then she said softly, “And, if the Dax decides he has been mistaken, he will need to make that known amongst his people prior to any challenges being thrown. And he will do this, my dear, he will renounce you and he will do it in a way you will not like.”
Shit.
She kept talking, “But, if a challenge is thrown before he does this and the Dax falls, you fall. They will kill him, my dear, but you they will not kill.”
That didn’t sound bad, or at least the words didn’t, the way she said them did.
“And?” I asked a lot less sharply and a lot more hesitantly.
She studied me. Then she said carefully, “And, they will burn your tent, they will murder your slaves… after enjoying them,” she eyed me, “repeatedly. ” I sucked in breath and she kept going. “They will loot your belongings and you… you, my dear, they will mutilate in ways and in places no woman wants to be mutilated.
Then they will share you; share you amongst all the warriors until they lose interest in you. Then you will be cast out and it will be known that if anyone provides you aid, they will be punished. You will die of thirst or malnutrition, burning in the sun. They will not kill you but you will die but before you die you’ll want to die. No death is pleasant, Dahksahna Circe, but that death would be far more unpleasant than most.”
Dear God, she had that right.
Seriously, this… place… sucked.
I stared into her eyes. Then I looked beyond her at the five women who’d been serving me and caring for me in kind ways for three
days and had been so gentle with me that awful night. They were standing in a huddle just inside the flap to the tent.
They looked more than anxious.
They looked freaking scared.
Then I looked back into her eyes.
Then I whispered, “What’s your name?”
“Diandra, my queen.”
“All right, Diandra,” I said softly, making my decision, “let me get up. I’ve got some people who need to see me.”
Diandra kept hold of my eyes for a long moment before, slowly, she smiled.
Chapter Five
Getting A Few Things Straight
I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed waiting for my king to come home.
I had spent most of the day with Diandra.
That morning, I had gotten out of bed and Diandra had called for my robe, or my lornya, as they called it. It was long, had slits up the side, was sleeveless and was made of the finest light blue silk I’d ever seen.
While I ate (creamy yogurt, sweet dried fruit and some kind of grain all mixed together, it was actually quite tasty) and drank coffee (the only good thing so far, the savages had coffee, though the milk they had to put in it tasted slightly tangy), Diandra chatted to me about Seerim, her three sons (all, she bragged openly, in training to be warriors, her first, she bragged scarily, had already made his “first kill”) and her one daughter (“He would deny it, he is proud of his warrior sons, but Sheena is Seerim’s favorite,” she said), my women (I refused to call them slaves) carted in a big, oval copper tub with one side swayed back and filled it with buckets of steaming water. Then they poured some milky substance in it, some oil, swirled it around and dropped flower petals on top.
After I was finished eating, three of them guided me to the warm, fragrant bath and Diandra went to some trunks in the corner with the dark skinned woman (Teetru was her name and Diandra confirmed that, since she once had the charge of a Maroo princess (Maroo being Teetru’s homeland), she therefore had experience with serving
“royalty” and she was their boss of sorts). I tried to protest but they refused to accept as they bathed me and washed my hair in a bath that smelled vaguely of spice, vaguely of musk and not-so-vaguely of orange blossoms.
I had to admit, it was nice. It was weird, but it was nice.
