“I’m okay,” I promised her, reached out, squeezed her hand; she gave me her small, weird smile and squeezed mine back.
Then I looked out into the Daxshee.
Narinda and I were lounging on hides and cushions outside Lahn and my cham while I kept my eye on Ghost, who was wandering around, being cute, attacking things and generally annoying passersby to which I’d call out, “Kay tingay,” which meant “I’m sorry,” and I’d get smiles as they moved away.
Our cham had been set up a bit away from the others, close to the creek on a slight rise, so we could see most of the Daxshee spread out below (this gave evidence that The Eunuch did not set up the Daxshee the same every time).
It was late afternoon, Narinda had come around earlier, we had had lunch and now we were sipping fruit juice, chatting and watching the activity of the Daxshee. There was a long, wide gauze fall set up which provided shade that we could laze under. This was welcome but unnecessary. Nearly my whole body was a golden honey color from riding for days in the sun. But it was nice to have a break from it.
I’d just told Narinda the story of the bruise that she informed me looked a lot better.
But it wasn’t gone.
And I couldn’t allow myself to forget it, no matter how sweet and sexy my husband was being.
He might be the tiger and a warrior who thrived on challenge but I was a tigress raised by the kind, loving king of a small, loving kingdom and I knew what I deserved and it was not what Lahn handed me a week ago. So he had a fight on his hands, one I was determined to win.
“Oh look! There’s Diandra! Poyah, Diandra!” Narinda exclaimed, waving frantically and I followed her gaze.
Then mine narrowed.
Diandra grinned shamelessly at my narrow-eyed look, came right up and gave Narinda a “poyah” as she dropped into a lounge on the hides, grabbed a big cushion and shoved it under her side and then helped herself to fruit juice.
Then her dancing eyes came to me. “How are you, my queen?”
Now she was just trying to be irritating, calling me her queen.
“I’m not talking to you,” I informed her and she burst out laughing.
“What’s this?” Narinda asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Diandra answered as I glared at her, “unless you’re talking about our Dax’s groan of gratification that half the Daxshee heard ringing from his cham last night. Seerim and I aren’t that close but it still woke us both up.”
Narinda’s wide eyes flew to me and a wobbly smile hit her lips.
I kept up the glare but ratcheted it up as high as I could take it.
Diandra ignored me and just like Diandra, kept right on yapping.
“Angry words were heard from our queen but I have inside information that she told our king she loved the feel of him so I suspect things eventually went well for her last night too.”
Narinda let out a giggle you could tell she tried to suppress… and failed.
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
