He moved well, I noticed. He’d been trained since he was a little boy to know what his body could do and command every inch of it and that was exactly how he looked when he moved.

All that power was at his complete command.

And now I knew in a way I never wished to know just how much power he wielded.

His eyes were on me the second I was in his line of sight and in that same instant I caught his flinch.

He’d marked me. I knew it. I didn’t have a mirror and I didn’t need to see his reaction to be made aware of it. The skin on my cheekbone was tender to the point that even the lightest touch caused significant pain and it was swollen so badly the skin felt stretched to the breaking point. But even if I couldn’t feel it, I saw it in the eyes of my girls the minute they saw me that morning and then, all day, the eyes of those moving around me. Or, more to the point, those eyes in faces not smiling at me, heads not nodding but avoiding my gaze and, after seeing my husband’s mark, looking swiftly away.

I noticed even with the flinch his gait didn’t stutter as he made his way to me. And I tipped my head way back to watch him as he didn’t hesitate to bend, his hand finding mine, engulfing it and without a word to me he pulled me gently to my feet.

He started moving us, his hand in mine and he still said nothing to me but he barked, “Teetru, Ghost,” and in two short words gave the order to his busy slave to take time out from her important tasks to look after my pet.

He strode around our now fallen tent and into the disappearing pathway that was fast becoming a clearing and I hurried to keep up. Not, this time, protesting his pace. Not, this time, speaking a word.

But I knew his head turned because I felt his eyes on me then his hand squeezed mine and his gait slowed so I didn’t have to half run to keep up.

I didn’t even look at him. I slowed my step and kept my eyes to my sandals.

We entered an area where there were no chams or belongings to pack away but the activity seemed more extreme so I looked up to see we were at the outskirts of the disappearing Daxshee. There were lines of wagons being loaded and there was also a line of horses standing in wait.

I immediately saw Lahn’s firstly because it was at least one hand higher than all the rest, a visibly powerful beast, huge, regal, absolutely perfect for him. Secondly, I saw Lahn’s steed because beside it was a blinding white horse the beauty of which I’d never beheld in my life and I’d spent some time around horses.

My father had scraped and saved to give me horseback riding lessons from the time I was eleven to the time I was fourteen. He did this because he loved me and he did this because he had a daughter who lost her mother and he wanted her to have what she most wanted in the world. I wanted my Mom back but since that was utterly impossible, horseback riding lessons were going to have to do. When I realized how much it was costing my Pop, and how little he could afford it, I asked him to quit paying for them. But I bought time on the back of a horse every weekend for the next two years and I bought it by mucking out six horse stalls for free in order to get it.

And lastly, I knew Lahn’s horse because Diandra and Seerim were standing in front of it.

I searched her face and body for hints that Seerim had taken his hand to her too in what appeared to be his anger last night but she had none. However, the minute her eyes could see my face clearly, her face got soft, her shoulders drooped slightly and even over the distance, I saw her eyes get moist.

Yep, definitely, absolutely and truly, I liked Diandra and if I ever made it out of this godforsaken world, I would miss her.

Lahn walked us right up to Diandra and Seerim then stopped us. Dropping my hand, his arm curled around my shoulders and he turned me so my front was held against his side. On display to his people and with no choice, I slid my arms around his waist and looked at Diandra whose eyes were on me as Lahn spoke.

Then Diandra did. “He has asked me here to translate for him.”

“Ordered you, you mean,” I replied and she pressed her lips together.

Then she whispered, “Yes, Dahksahna Circe.”

She called me my title as she was now not just my friend but in the presence of her king.

I nodded; she nodded to me then looked to Lahn.

He turned me toward the white horse and reached out a long arm to catch the horse’s bridle, doing this without letting me go. He pulled the horse’s gleaming white nose, a nose that was so white it seemed an aura of the coolest ice blue shimmered from it, close to us and he spoke.

“This is my gift to my tigress,” Diandra said and my eyes flew to Lahn who was still talking. “When The Horde rides, their queen rides.”

I stared at him without a word. Then slowly my eyes moved to the beautiful beast in front of me.

Lahn spoke as did Diandra. “She has no name, Circe.”

I nodded, my eyes still on the horse and I lifted a hand cautiously to her nose. She allowed the touch so I stroked her.

“Hey girl,” I said softly.

She jerked her head up slightly, the movement controlled by Lahn’s hand still on her bridle but my hand flew away then she came back and butted my hand with her nose so I smiled at her and stroked again.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whispered, moving in close, Lahn’s arm fell away from me, he let go of her bridle and she butted the side of my head gently. “Seeing you, there is no name to capture your beauty so why don’t we try to capture your coat,” I told her. “How do you feel about Zephyr?”

She lifted her head again, shook it briefly then I got three down and ups.

Assent.

I grinned at her, caught her nose with a hand on either side and brought it down so we were eye to eye.

“Zephyr it is then,” I said, she snorted what I hoped was her approval (alas, I could not understand this beast in this world) and my grin turned to a smile.

“Lahnahsahna,” Lahn called and I closed my eyes, gave Zephyr a last stroke then let her go and turned to my husband, dropping my head back to catch his gaze.

He didn’t hesitate to pull me gently into his arms. I placed my hands lightly on the warm skin of his chest then he spoke as did Diandra.

“She pleases you?”

“Meena,” I replied in his language.

“Good,” he replied quietly in mine and I felt my heart wrench.

Then his eyes moved over my face and caught on my cheekbone. He studied it for long moments before they moved back to mine and he spoke softly.

Diandra translated, “I do not like it when my tigress weeps.”

Then you shouldn’t have made her weep, I thought but made no verbal reply.