“Kah Lahnahsahna,” Lahn called.
Fogged like I was in a dream, my head slowly turned to him and I saw his paint dissolving down his body as the rain beat into him.
His arm was extended to me.
I stared at him.
“Go to your king,” Diandra whispered in my ear, her hands at my waist, pushing. “Now, my love.”
I moved to my king, he took my hand, pulled me close, bent our arms and held my hand tucked close to his chest, me to his side and we stepped off the platform, walked down the rise, through the gathered throng that was standing, silent and unmoving (except to let us through) in the driving rain.
I kept my head up, my eyes straight but that didn’t mean I didn’t cry the whole way home.
* * * * *
My girls were in the cham when we arrived and they sprung into action.
My clothes and jewels were taken away but before Packa could put a cloth to me to dry my wet skin, Lahn murmured, “Tahkoo tan,” and they hurried out of the cham.
Lahn, also still wet, his black paint seeping, but now hideless, came to me and gently he pulled me into bed not only under the silk sheet but also under the first layer of hides.
Then he pulled me into his arms, face to face, his hand cupping the back of my head pressing my face to his throat.
I listened to the rain beating on the top of the cham and wondered how the material didn’t get saturated and the wet didn’t seep through.
As I wondered this, Lahn held me close.
Then I whispered, “Your Hunt did that to her.”
“Rayloo, kah rahna fauna,” Lahn said softly, giving me a squeeze.
He understood my words even though I spoke my language, I knew it.
“Your Hunt drove her to that.” I was still whispering.
“Rayloo, Circe.”
“She was beautiful.” I kept whispering.
Lahn didn’t respond.
“He killed her beauty and slaughtered her soul.”
Lahn said nothing for a moment then he asked quietly, “Soul?”
“My people’s word for pahnsahna, her spirit,” I said just as quietly.
That got me another squeeze.
Then his hand slid from the back of my head and around to cup my jaw where a thumb under my chin pressed up gently so my head tipped back. He was looking down at me, his eyes, I could see, soft in the candlelight.
“The heavens wept,” he said in Korwahk.
I knew the air felt wrong all day because of the impending storm but I still replied in English, “That happens when innocents are punished.”
“Innocents?” he whispered.
“Ones who did no wrong,” I answered in Korwahk.
His head tilted so his forehead could rest on mine.
I closed my eyes.
Then I opened them and whispered in Korwahk, “You were right, she wished that.”
“I know, my tigress,” he whispered back in English.
I kept whispering when I said in Korwahk, “Thank you for not punishing me.”
His chin jerked back slightly and his forehead came away from mine before he replied, “I would not punish you for being what you are.”
I blinked then asked softly, “What?”
“Kah Circe, you are kah Lahnahsahna, you are my warrior queen. It is who you are. It is not what anyone made you. It shines from your eyes. It is what I see in the boys I select to serve Suh Tunak. It is why I chose you. It is why we suit. It is why together we begin the Golden Dynasty of legend.” His thumb started stroking my jaw as he went on. “I cannot say I do not wish you would have thought before you acted today. If Dortak took her life, it would have ended her torment sooner and saved her from what she endured tonight. But I recognize it is who you are.” I stared up at him, heart in my throat. He was speaking in Korwahk but he was doing it slowly and I understood most of what he said and what he said, I had to admit, moved me. Then I watched his mouth twitch before he finished, “Though I will caution you at least to attempt to rein it in in future. I do not like my queen in black.”
My clothes were kickass here, it was true. But I was with him and I hoped I never had to wear that black outfit again in my life.
“Okay,” I whispered and his lips curved as his thumb swept mine.
“Okay,” he repeated.
I had more to say so I called, “Lahn?”
“Mm?” he murmured with another stroke of my jaw.
Okay, shit, it must be said there were some times when I really liked my husband. Now was one of them.
“Thanks also for not punishing your men,” I said and his grin turned to a smile.
“My Circe,” he started, “on your claiming, you stole my blade. No one, no other man, no other warrior, has ever taken my weapon. Not once. I know when your little warrior shines through, you will stop at nothing. I could not punish Bain for his weapon being seized when you had a mind to seize it for you did the same to me. He could not control you so he and Zahnin sought to control the situation. This is not grounds for punishment.”
Again, he was talking in Korwahk so I didn’t catch it all but I got the gist of it.
And the gist made me stare.
So when he received no response, Lahn spoke quietly. “I like my paint on you, my golden doe, because I like how I put it on you. But I like it more that your warrior spirit deserves the paint.”
I kept staring. Then I asked (in Korwahk), “No one has ever taken your weapon?”
He nodded.
“Wow,” I whispered and he smiled again.
“I do not know what that means, my tigress, but the way you say it and the look on your face, I do not have to ask.”
I felt my face get soft. Then I tilted my head until my forehead rested on his chin. To that, he tilted his until his lips rested on my forehead.
Then, there, he murmured, “The heavens wept at my wife’s command.”
I blinked at his throat and tilted my head back to ask what he meant but before I could say a word, from outside the cham I heard a man shout, “Kah Dax!”
Lahn’s head turned and then, to my shock (and horror, I must add), he shouted, “Enter!” in Korwahk and lifted up to sitting in the bed, taking me with him. The hides fell as he pulled my back to his front so I was facing the cham flaps, his arm across my breasts somewhat covering my nudity from the three warriors who bent and entered our cham.
He didn’t have to shield me. They only had eyes for their king.
Rapid fire Korwahk was thrown but I got this from it:
“You are needed, my king,” one of the warriors.
“I attend my bride,” Lahn (which I thought was nice).
“It is important, my king,” another warrior.
“I leave my wife in our bed, it had better be,” Lahn.
“You have my vow it is,” the second warrior who spoke, spoke again.
Lahn hesitated before he sighed. Then he turned me in his arms, his hand came up to curl around the underside of my jaw and he dipped his face to mine.
“Rest and try to sleep, my tigress. I will return,” he said in English.
I nodded, he held my face steady and touched his lips to mine.
Then he set me in bed, threw the hides over me, exited off the side, went to the trunks, pulled out then yanked on another pair of hides and left the cham still tying them at his hips.
The warriors followed.
The rain fell.
And I lay in bed in the tent, listening to the drops slap against the cham and I tried to do as my husband ordered – rest and sleep.
But all that filled my head was the beautiful, tragic bride of a monster saying a word she did not know but a word I knew in my soul she understood, “Rainbow.”
And I hoped she was over it, her spirit now inhabiting a wonderful world.
* * * * *
I woke when Lahn’s arms shifted me into his body.
Sleepily, I lifted my face to his and my eyes fluttered open.
?
??Is all well?” I whispered.
“Yes, my golden doe, now sleep.”
I nodded but kept my face tipped to his as his moved closer to mine.
And then when his lips pressed against mine, groggy and not thinking, mine parted.
And the instant they did, his tongue swept inside.
It felt great and he tasted even better.
My body snuggled closer to his as I drowsily offered my mouth to my husband, he accepted, his arms growing tight around me and he drank deep.
When he ended the kiss I felt his lips move against mine as I heard the rough, whispered words, “Golden honey.”
I mumbled, “Mm,” dipped my chin and tucked my face in Lahn’s throat.
Then I fell asleep in his strong, tight arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Golden Goddess
“Wake, my queen,” I heard Lahn’s voice, my eyes fluttered open but before I was fully awake, he plucked me out of bed, planted my ass in his lap, knees bent, one arm circling my calves and waist, the other hand sifting in my hair from the neck up.
I focused drowsily on his handsome face and whispered, “Hey.”
Then I watched his eyes smile as he whispered back, “Hey.”
I was pretty sure my eyes smiled too mainly because I knew my mouth did it. Then his gaze dropped to my mouth, his eyes grew heated and his head bent.
I was registering the heat in his eyes when he murmured against my lips, “Your king wants your golden honey.”
A vague memory of the night before filtered into my brain and I didn’t hesitate before I parted them in invitation and immediately felt Lahn’s tongue sweep inside.
Nope. It wasn’t a dream I had last night. My husband could kiss.
My arms slid around his shoulders as he dropped back then twisted, my back hit bed and Lahn’s body hit mine; all the while we kissed, our tongues dancing. He shifted and I knew what that shift meant, my legs parted, his hips fell between and his hand went to the ties on one side of his hides.
Seconds later, his tongue plundering my mouth, his cock slowly invaded me.
I moaned into his mouth.
Oh, this was good.
He started moving, slowly, his sweet strokes unhurried, his mouth never leaving mine.
No, this was good.
His lips finally moved to trail down my cheek to my ear as I lifted my knees and pressed my thighs to his sides to take him deeper and held on tight with my arms.
“My golden queen commands the heavens,” he whispered in my ear, I turned my head to ask what he was talking about but he turned his head too, his mouth came back to mine and my question evaporated as all thought moved to his mouth, his weight, his heat, his cock… him.
His eyes were open as his tongue slid back into my mouth and I felt my belly plummet, my limbs tense, my lungs burn as I saw it, I saw it, golden, shimmering, bright and brutal and deep… God, so deep in his eyes.
But I saw it.
My hand slid up into his hair to keep his head to mine so I wouldn’t lose it as he kissed me, made love to me and showed me his spirit.
I’d never seen anything like it and it… was… beautiful.
With nothing but kisses, light touches and slow, sweet, deep strokes, Lahn built the fire until I had to let his spirit go so I could close my eyes with my climax, my moan drowned in his mouth.
Mere seconds later, not yet fully recovered from my own orgasm, my mouth received the gift of his groan.
Once he recovered, his lips swept my cheeks, my eyes then his face disappeared in my neck.
I held him tight and stared at the roof of the cham, not able to stop myself from feeling moved that he showed me his spirit, something so precious to him, something he kept safe, something he did not share and further not able to stop myself from being dazzled by the display.
Shit.
I pulled in a breath, turned my head and, mouth at his ear, I whispered, “You’re a natural at this kissing business.”
His head came up and his eyes came to mine, the shimmer gone but his gaze was warm.
“Natural?”
My hand slid to cup his jaw. “Have you ever kissed a woman, my king?” I asked my question softly in Korwahk.
His eyes held mine in a way it felt like he was trying to read me before he grunted his clearly guarded negative admission of, “Me.”
I was his first.
He’d given that to no one else. He’d given it only to me.
Shit. I liked that.
I smiled at him. “Well, you’re good at it,” I said softly in English. “A natural.” He stared at me so I lifted my head two inches, my lips a breath from his where I whispered, “Kay anhay tee.” I paused then finished with emphasis, “Chah.”
I liked it… a lot.
I watched again as his eyes smiled.
Then they grew intense and he whispered back, “Kah rahna tunakanahsa Pahnsahnalla.”
I blinked.
This was new. He called me, my golden warrior goddess.
“What?” I asked then in Korwahk, “Tela?”
Instead of answering, he pulled out, rolled and sat up, taking me with him so I was straddling him. His hand cupping my head tipped mine down and his arm around my waist squeezed tight.
Then he said in Korwahk (most of which I caught, some of which I guessed), “I am sorry, my tigress, but you have a difficult choice this morning. Either you attend the pyre or you do not. It is your choice but I urge you to watch the ashes of Dortak’s bride drift to the heavens.”
All thoughts of what Lahn called me flew from my head.
Last night, I attended an execution slash suicide. This morning, a funeral.
Fantastic.
It must be said, sometimes this queen business sucked.
My eyes slid to his ear and I whispered in Korwahk, “I will go.”
“Lahnahsahna,” he called and I looked back at him. “This is not the easy choice,” he told me then gave me a squeeze. “But it is the right one.”
It was way cool he understood and even cooler that he seemed proud of me.
I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I sighed then I nodded.
Then I asked in Korwahk, “What was her name?”
Instantly, he answered, “I do not know.”
I blinked again then I stared. Then I asked, “You don’t know?”
He shook his head, “I do not.”
Was he crazy?
I pulled back an inch and felt my eyes narrow. “You ordered the death of a woman whose name you don’t know?”
His arm tightening brought me back and his brows knit as he studied me. “She is the wife of a warrior. Of course I do not know her name.”
Of course he didn’t know her name?
He was crazy.
Then it occurred to me that never, not once in all the times she interpreted for us, had he called Diandra by her name. If he referred to her at all, he called Diandra “wife of Seerim” or “Seerim’s woman”.
“You know,” I informed him, “women are wives of warriors but they are also a lot of other things. They are mothers. They are friends. They are healers. They are –”
“Circe,” he cut me off with a mini-squeeze, speaking patiently, “they are also the most beautiful women in the land. For that reason, they do not exist to Suh Tunak as anything other than a warrior’s wife. They cannot. It is forbidden.”
I now stared in confusion and curiosity. “It’s forbidden?”
Lahn nodded. “I must tell you that with your beauty, which far exceeds any woman I have ever seen, there are times when I regret you are my Dahksahna. This means people know who you are, you are on display, you sit at my side and men’s eyes can study you and they do. I see it, I see they take great pleasure in their study and it often lasts a long time.” Another squeeze. “This I do not like but this is my burden as Dax.”
Uh-oh. My belly was getting melty.
Lahn kept speaking. “It is a high crime for a warrior’s wife to share
a bed with a warrior not her husband. If this were to happen, both would be punished severely. In olden times, it happened frequently. Warriors are men and wives are beautiful. To maintain necessary distance, to warriors, all wives are known only as the wife or bride of a warrior. Contact is minimal and personal relationships between warriors and other wives are very rare and only occur when permission is granted by the husband and usually is always supervised by the husband. Another burden I must carry as you form attachments to your personal guard and wander the Daxshee amongst your people.”
He knew about that?
“You know about that?”
“Bain and Zahnin report your activities to me daily, my queen.”
Oh. Well. That wasn’t entirely surprising. Intrusive, but not surprising.
The good news was, this wasn’t about possession or stripping women of their identities but about stopping infidelity.
And, for once, there really wasn’t any bad news except the “punished severely” part which I did not want to know so I was not going to ask.
I looked into his eyes and saw he had braced for my response so when I said, “Okay,” his chin jerked back half an inch before he smiled and gave me another squeeze.
Then he repeated, “Okay.”
Why did I think it was so sweet when he said that word?
I needed to move on.
I started to push away, muttering, “I guess I should bathe…” when I trailed off and fully took him in.
Last night, he had rivers of paint on his body. Right now, he didn’t but I did, the paint he transferred to me when he held me after the judgment.
Last night, his hair had been plaited (something I had done yesterday morning). Right now, his hair was flowing free.
And lastly, last night, he’d been painted.
My body froze.
He’d been painted! And it wasn’t me who painted him.
“Lahn,” I called and his hand in my hair slid down to rest between my shoulder blades as he grinned.
Then he murmured in a deeper than normal voice, “My tigress, you sit astride me leaking my seed in my lap, you do not have to call my name.”
Okay, that was kind of hot but I wasn’t in the mood for him being hot.