His eyes held mine. “I regret she did not live to see her son best the Dax who bested her king. He was a man it was difficult to respect and not simply because he took my father’s head. It was a triumph in more ways than avenging my father to take his.”

“Honey,” I breathed and his hand moved to the side of my neck, his thumb beginning to stroke my jaw as I watched his eyes grow warm.

“Would that you were in my bed those years ago, Circe,” he whispered, staring deep into my eyes, “sharing with me like you are now your golden spirit to balm my own.” I held my breath as the silk of his words glided through me then he grinned. “And also here to celebrate my triumph when I took my vengeance.”

God, he was such a man.

I couldn’t help it, I grinned back at him.

“I take it that would have been…” I paused, searching for the word in Korwahk and hoping I found it, “energetic.”

His thumb stopped stroking and his fingers sifted up into my hair, putting pressure on so my lips touched his.

There, he whispered in English, “Oh yes.”

I found the right word or a right word.

I smiled against his mouth.

His eyes heated and he growled against mine.

Then his head slanted, his fingers pressed further, he ground my lips against his, they opened and his tongue instantly invaded. I made a noise in my throat and he rolled me to my back.

Then he demonstrated how energetic he would have felt after he seized the Dax. It was years later but clearly the glory hadn’t faded and I knew this mainly because, even after an already hot and heavy session, it… was… phenomenal.

So much so, my loud moans, whimpers and cries were noted by passersby, those inhabiting close chams and spies paying attention as were his groans, grunts and his final shout of cl**ax.

And after he was through with me, thoroughly through with me, I fell into an exhausted sleep not thinking about holding magic. Not thinking of calling to the heavens to make them weep, to sending a rainbow arcing through the sky. Not thinking that I might have the magic in me to send myself home. And not thinking about Zahnin and his wife, hoping all would soon be well in their cham.

No, I didn’t think any of that.

Instead, in the seconds before my husband’s warm, hard, big body settled next to and partly over mine, his arm wrapped around, our legs tangled, I didn’t think about anything.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Contest

Seven days later…

I dipped my fingers into the pot of black paint and saw they were trembling.

I had to get a hold of myself.

But soon, very soon, in fact, I was all dressed and ready to go in my golden finery and as soon as I painted my husband, we would be out of our cham and on our way to Lahn facing Dortak in the challenge.

I knew one thing, Lahn would beat him.

I knew something else, as much as I hated Dortak and as little as it said about me, I cared nothing about the fact his life would soon end but I still didn’t look forward to watching my husband cut his head off.

And I knew one last thing, Dortak would not hesitate to cheat and I didn’t want Lahn to get hurt when he did.

And I so didn’t want that that I knew I didn’t want it not because I simply didn’t want another man, an abuser and a cheater, to harm a man who would fight with honor. And I knew I didn’t want it not because Lahn had kept me fed and sheltered and showered in jewels and kickass clothes.

I didn’t want it because I cared about my husband and this feeling ran deep.

And because of this I was terrified out of my mind.

* * * * *

The last seven days had been good, very good, too good.

I had kept up my wanderings with Bain and Zahnin but now Zahnin was chatting. We didn’t have deep conversations where he bared his soul but he talked. He didn’t ask for advice or share how things were going in his cham but he did more than grunt unintelligibly at observations I made, he corrected my Korwahk and he often waded in to try to explain when I was speaking with my people on the (rarer and rarer occasion) I was messing it up.

Daily, however, I went to his cham to attend Sabine. At my request, Diandra and Claudine had sought and found the other girl not of Korwahk who was hunted with us. She was Fleuridian too, her name was Anastasie and although her warrior had been gentler with her, without the assistance I had or Sabine was getting, she was still lost in a culture she didn’t understand and more than a little alarmed by it (she had not, for instance, been sheltered from the selection or the celebration after). With Narinda, Diandra and Claudine gave all of us lessons in Korwahk and often Nahka would come by, sometimes bringing her friends, and lessons would descend into girlie time with Diandra and Claudine translating. With this, it didn’t take long for laughter to ring from Sabine’s tent.

And this laughter was ringing once when the flaps slapped back and Zahnin entered.

Sabine did not scurry away but her eyes did snap to him. She held her body tense but not tight nor terrified, just guarded.

I counted this as progress.

He took in the scene then his eyes went to his bride and he asked, “All is well, wife?”

Claudine interpreted and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

Then Zahnin tipped his chin up to her, walked forward and executed a smooth move right in front of all her new girlfriends.

He ran the backs of his fingers gently across her cheek even as she visibly failed to fight back a slight wince.

He wisely ignored this and whispered, “This pleases me.”

Then, without another word or glance at anyone, he turned and walked out.

Nice. Very nice.

Sabine stared at the tent flaps in open-mouthed shock.

Diandra, Claudine, Nahka and even Narinda and I shared knowing and amused glances.

In our time with her, Sabine did not share how things were going and we didn’t ask. But Zahnin’s move made me hold hope that even if he wasn’t raised with kindness, he was the kind of man who was born with it.

I had heard and processed Lahn’s warnings but still, I couldn’t help it.

I was hopeful.

* * * * *

It became clear to me the night of the day of the rainbow that Lahn had settled his horde and therefore he came home much earlier. This meant more lovemaking. It also meant more chats, some of them heartfelt (for instance, when I told him stories of my father, his men, horseback riding lessons and the like), some of them informative (Lahn explaining things about Korwahk, how he spent his days, how I spent mine, me telling him how I learned how to play guitar (though, mention of another man in my life was not looked on favorably so I made a mental note not to do that again)), some of the chats were amusing and I realized my husband had a dry wit.