Page 12
Okay, this selection freaked me out but I had to admit, that was a freaking cool speech.
Diandra had not finished translating before a rousing cheer burst forth from the crowd and then there was a commotion, an avenue in the crowd quickly parted and warriors, all painted, galloped on their horses straight into the clearing, circling, reining, reeling, horses going up on their hind legs, front hooves striking the hot air as warriors roared, pounded their chests and some unsheathed their swords at their backs and crashed them against others. It was pandemonium, loud, out-of-control, horses bumping into horses, hooves slashing against warrior thighs, steel against steel piercing the warrior cries.
The little boys had all risen and turned around and, I had to admit, as they watched the adult warriors and smiled big white smiles, they looked excited.
Lahn barked a loud order and it all stopped instantly, the warriors cut their reins and then formed a semi-circle around the dais, the horses backing up, shoving back the crowd to make room for their large number.
Okay, that was executed so smoothly and without even a bit of disorder, I had to admit that was freaking cool too.
The second they were in formation, Lahn shouted, 'Suh Tunak!' and Diandra translated, 'The Horde.'
All the warriors and the crowd, shouted back, 'Suh Tunak!'
When that died away, Lahn shouted again then turned his back on the boys, started up the steps and Diandra said in my ear, 'Now we feast.'
The crowd was cheering, the robed man was hurrying the boys away and the warriors were circling their steeds to exit the area as the drums struck up again, a pounding beat, faster and people rushed into the clearing. They were laughing, cheering and more cries of Suh Tunak could be heard. Then they were stamping their feet, knees high, jerking their bodies and it hit me they were dancing.
Lahn made his casual way up the steps, turned, sat and surveyed the burgeoning revelry again without a word or glance at me.
Therefore, I figured my role was complete and I could get out of the hot sun and back to my cool tent to play with my baby tiger and decide what to do about my crazy life.
I turned to Diandra and asked, 'Can I go now?'
Her head tipped to the side and her brows drew together. 'Go?'
'Home, um… back to the cham.'
'But no, my queen, of course not. We eat, we drink, we dance, the celebration will last into the night.'
Was she kidding? It was barely noon.
'I can't sit out in this sun until it sets, Diandra, I'll be a lobster.'
'A lobster?'
'My skin will burn red,' I explained and she smiled.
'Ah, I see, a lobster after it is cooked. Clever, Dahksahna Circe.'
I wasn't trying to be clever. I was trying to save myself from third degree burns.
'Diandra, I'm serious.'
She stared at me, the smile died out of her eyes and then she looked uncertainly at the king.
Then she muttered, 'I see this job will have its downfalls.' Then she called out to Lahn, I looked to him and saw his head turn to her, he watched her as she spoke then his eyes dropped to my arm for a fraction of a second before they sliced back to her.
'Me,' he grunted and looked away.
'He says no,' Diandra told me.
She had to be kidding. He had to be kidding.
'But I'll fry out here!' I cried, she bit her lip and I heard Lahn speak.
I looked to him and back to Diandra when she interpreted.
'The golden queen sits at her king's side.'
I looked to Lahn. 'Seriously, Lahn, this sun is hot, the fires are hot and my skin isn't like yours. It's not –'
Diandra was talking with me and Lahn cut us both off with, 'Me.'
'Lahn!' I snapped, he leaned into me and his eyes were scary.
'Me, Circe. Me.'
He looked away and that was it.
No.
Okay, one good thing about that was that my dilemma was solved as to how I felt about being in this world and how I felt about my savage king.
And that solution was that I was done. I needed to find a way out.
As soon as fucking possible.
Chapter Nine
The Celebration
Night had fallen, torches had been lit and I knew by the tightness of my skin that I was burned to a crisp.
Diandra wasn't wrong, the celebration lasted into the night and things could get sordid.
This was, I was guessing, because this culture was whacked.
It was also because, like any people, primitive savage cultures or not, you pass the booze around freely, shit happens.
It all started merry, drumming, dancing, jugs were produced and passed around, casks were set up, the latter two people partook of liberally as in, the Korwahk knew how to party and they did it hard. Women threaded through the throngs weighed down by huge wooden platters groaning with food. There was a lot of laughter, lots of random cheers of Suh Tunak! and the constant din of happy, party conversation under the equally constant banging of the drums.
Throughout this, I sat on my white throne and often people would approach, children, adults, the elderly, and all of them had flowers or petals. Their eyes would go to their Dax, they'd receive his consent (an arrogant jerk of the chin, by the by) and these flowers or petals would be tossed at me feet or in my lap or anywhere around my chair so that now I had a pile of them around me everywhere.
I had flowers but no conversation. The Dax allowed them to bestow their blossoms on me but they were not allowed to come close or speak and outside of his arrogant jerk of the chin, they ceased to exist for him too.
Weird.
Shortly after the celebration began, a woman moved to Lahn with a silver chalice that she handed to him, filled from a jug and then she backed away while I stared at her thinking it didn't surprise me I didn't get a chalice but it would become clear why very quickly.
I was to be watered and fed by my king.
No joke.
If he wanted me to have a drink, he turned to me and offered the chalice which, at first, was filled with what tasted like orange juice mixed with pineapple and then, later, water and finally wine. If a woman (and there were a great number of them) advanced with a tray of roasted meat, roasted vegetables, slabs of spiced meat, cut fruit, flat breads slathered with what looked and tasted like herbed hummus or a white yogurt sauce with cucumber, onion and garlic or even pieces of candy that looked like creamy white sugar bark doused liberally with nuts and candied fruit, Lahn would make my selections for me, turn to me, lean into me, his hand held out and I'd have to take it not with my hand (I learned that with a quick, clipped, bark of 'me' from Lahn at the beginning) but with my mouth.
Annoying and, might I add, insane.
But I played the role of the golden queen, took food and drink from my king's fingers at his command, listened to the drums, watched the dancers and revelry, listened to the shouts of laughter and cheers and searched the crowd hoping to see Narinda.
I did not see Narinda. I saw Sheena dancing a couple of times but no Narinda. I also saw the vendor who I got the bangles from. He was talking to some people and pointing at me so I waved at him. This caused him to smile a smile so big it had to hurt his face, jump up and down and clasp his hands toward the heavens again which made me laugh the only laugh I'd laughed since getting to the selection
Shortly after the ceremony was over and the celebration began, with a terse order, Lahn relieved Diandra of her duties. She gave me an encouraging smile, moved quickly down the steps and disappeared in the revelers. This meant I didn't even have my new friend to talk to.
If I was truthful, there was a lot of it that was interesting. The fruit juice, food and even wine were all delicious. The dancing was manic and strange but fun to watch. And clearly Lahn's people were having a good time. This was my first celebration where I had it in me t
Prologue
The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(25) Author: Kristen Ashley His long legs had him to me in seconds, he grasped my bicep, turned his back to me, swung me up, my legs automatically curled around his h.ps as he wrapped my arm around his neck and then he stalked out of the tent. Read The Golden Dynasty Page 42 online books from your Mobile. The Golden Dynasty Page 42 The book is wrote by Kristen Ashley. Read The Golden Dynasty free novels read online from your Pc, Mobile. The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2) is a Romance Books by Kristen Ashley.
Running
I was running.
Running on those stupid, flimsy little sandals.
Running for my life.
He was on his horse, I could hear the beast's hooves pounding behind me, hear this mingled with my own, panting, ragged, panicked breaths – and they were getting closer.
I was covered in blood. Not mine. It was still warm from spurting from that man's body.
I didn't know where I was or how I got there. I wasn't certain what was happening. I went to bed in my bed in a world I understood and I woke up here in a world that was entirely foreign to me, everything about it, and not one thing about it was good.
And now I was running for my life.
The horse's hooves got closer; I knew they were almost upon me. Frantic, I glanced back and saw I was right. Not only were they close, the man, the rider, so huge he seemed giant, had leaned so deeply to the side, his body was in line with the horse's middle.
And his long arm was stretched out.
I faced forward and tried to run faster.
But I couldn't go any faster and I certainly couldn't go faster than a horse.
I cried out when the arm hooked me at the waist, closed around and lifted me clean off my feet before my ass was planted on the horse in front of him.
Without thinking, I screamed bloody murder, twisted on the horse and prepared, instead of running for my life, to fight for it.
Chapter One
The Parade
One hour earlier…
I was in a pen, a kind of corral.
Yes, a corral. Like you keep animals in. Except basic, not modern, primitive – tall, thin but sturdy-looking stakes woven with leather bands all around.
There were enormous, extremely muscled men standing guard every four feet around the corral wearing nothing but pants made of hide, their upper bodies painted with black and white streaks. And the inside of the pen was filled with women dressed like me.
Flimsy sandals and wisps of thin, silky material of all shades curved around our bodies and held together at two ends at a kind of ring-like necklace at our necks.
Their faces were made up to extremes. Heavy kohl eyeliner. Pink, purple, green and blue eye shadow. Penciled in brows. Rouge. Deep red, pink or berry lips.
And everyone had lots of hair. Lots and lots of it. Out to there.
I suspected I looked the same.
Truthfully, if I hadn't been in that corral wearing a light blue wisp of material and a silver ring-like necklace, I would have thought they looked cool. Whoever did their hair and makeup was a master. It was phenomenal.
But I was too terrified to think anything was cool.
There were people milling about around the corral looking in but not getting too close. They were not getting too close because the guards weren't letting them get too close. We girls in the pen were off-limits, it was clear. Harrahs reward credits. They could look but they couldn't touch nor could they speak to us.
Some of these onlookers wore weird clothing; the men, hide pants like the guards but some had loose vests on top or wide leather bands around their chests (only the guards had the black and white paint, however). Some women wore what looked like sarongs at the bottom, attached to and apparently held up by belts mostly made of woven material or leather or some were made of metal, silver or copper, but there weren't many of those. Up top they wore bandeau-style or halter bikini tops, some a folded piece of material that went straight across the tops of their br**sts, the bottom coming down to a point.
There were other men looking in too, these men dressed in old-fashioned clothes, breeches, boots, flowy shirts, vests, wide-brimmed hats with feathers.
There were no women wearing old-fashioned clothes, just the men peering in.
It was clear there were two types of people there. There were those, like the warriors, with deep tanned skin, dark-toned eyes and black hair. These were the women in their sarongs and the men in the hide pants.
They looked at us with curiosity.
The men wearing old-fashioned clothes were different. They had all colored hair and eyes.
All of them were looking in with curiosity too but this wasn't benign or indifferent. It was lewd.
And it scared me.
Outside the pen, beyond the onlookers, I saw big, round tents and torches. Beyond that, it was dark because it was night but it appeared the ground was dirt or sand and stone broken by intermittent thrusts of dark brush. It looked like a set from Gilligan's Island but not fake and therefore definitely unfunny.
I had woken up there not an hour ago, panicked and freaked way the f**k out mainly because I was not in my bed in my townhome in Seattle which would freak anyone out but waking up here meant I was freaked way the f**k out.
This caused a minor sensation when I surged to my feet and started to act exactly what I was, scared out of my brain, panicked and freaked way the f**k out. This was not looked upon favorably by the painted, muscled guards. In fact, they made it very clear my freaked out, panicked behavior was highly unwelcome. Luckily, an unknown sense of self-preservation kicked in and I quieted immediately, sat on my behind, pulled my shit together and decided to get my bearings.
At first, I thought it was a dream. In fact, I decided it had to be a dream. This kind of shit didn't happen to people, right?
But, unfortunately, after repeatedly pinching myself and coming to the understanding that in dreams you didn't think you were in a dream, I realized it was not.
It was something else.
And that something was way bad.
So as I surveyed my surroundings, I decided that I had to get out of that something bad but I was in a pen, for goodness sakes, being leered at by icky men and looked over by people who appeared to be natives of some weird, foreign fantasyland.
And furthermore, to get out I had to know what I was in.
So I paid attention and took in my surroundings.
And the thing I noticed, outside what was going on on the outskirts of our pen, was that there were different kinds of women in the pen. There were those with black hair, dark eyes and tanned skin – in fact, this was the vast majority of the women. And they did not seem panicked or scared. They seemed content, some chatting to others in a language I didn't understand, others holding themselves separate and eyeing their compatriots in a guarded or even calculating way (and it made matters worse that a lot of these kinds of looks were aimed at me). Some even preening for the onlookers.
Then there were others who were not like them. Not many, I counted three.
These women looked scared out of their brains.
These women were like me.
And once I made this realization, I decided what I was going to do first. I had no clue what I was going to do second but at least I knew what I was going to do first.
And that was, find out what the f**k was going on.
It appeared we had freedom to walk around and talk so I decided my target, got up and started to walk over to her.
This was a mistake. The guards hadn't forgotten my minor freak out and dark, forbidding eyes came to me. Also, onlookers who had witnessed my freak out turned their attention to me likely because they were keen to see what happened next. And further, nearly every black-haired, dark-eyed woman in the corral pinned her eyes on me and they did it in a way that didn't feel all that great.
Um… yikes.
Cautiously, I persevered and walked across the pen to a woman with pale skin, light brown hair and light-colored eyes. She didn't look panicked, as such. On closer inspection, she didn't even really look scared. She looked resigned and she looked wired. Like something was about to happen and she was mentally preparing for whatever that was in a way that took all of her concentration.
I made my way across the pen and jumped when one of the black-haired women reached out and pinched me, hard, on the sensitive skin behind my arm.
It was something else.
And that something was way bad.
So as I surveyed my surroundings, I decided that I had to get out of that something bad but I was in a pen, for goodness sakes, being leered at by icky men and looked over by people who appeared to be natives of some weird, foreign fantasyland.
And furthermore, to get out I had to know what I was in.
So I paid attention and took in my surroundings.
And the thing I noticed, outside what was going on on the outskirts of our pen, was that there were different kinds of women in the pen. There were those with black hair, dark eyes and tanned skin – in fact, this was the vast majority of the women. And they did not seem panicked or scared. They seemed content, some chatting to others in a language I didn't understand, others holding themselves separate and eyeing their compatriots in a guarded or even calculating way (and it made matters worse that a lot of these kinds of looks were aimed at me). Some even preening for the onlookers.
Then there were others who were not like them. Not many, I counted three.
These women looked scared out of their brains.
These women were like me.
And once I made this realization, I decided what I was going to do first. I had no clue what I was going to do second but at least I knew what I was going to do first.
And that was, find out what the f**k was going on.
It appeared we had freedom to walk around and talk so I decided my target, got up and started to walk over to her.
This was a mistake. The guards hadn't forgotten my minor freak out and dark, forbidding eyes came to me. Also, onlookers who had witnessed my freak out turned their attention to me likely because they were keen to see what happened next. And further, nearly every black-haired, dark-eyed woman in the corral pinned her eyes on me and they did it in a way that didn't feel all that great.
Um… yikes.
Cautiously, I persevered and walked across the pen to a woman with pale skin, light brown hair and light-colored eyes. She didn't look panicked, as such. On closer inspection, she didn't even really look scared. She looked resigned and she looked wired. Like something was about to happen and she was mentally preparing for whatever that was in a way that took all of her concentration.
I made my way across the pen and jumped when one of the black-haired women reached out and pinched me, hard, on the sensitive skin behind my arm.
'Ouch!' I snapped, my hand going to the skin, my eyes going to her.
She leaned forward and hissed at me from between her teeth sounding like a snake.
I jumped further and scuttled away.
Johnny jungle forum. Jeez, what was that all about? Bee-yatch.
I glared at her as I backed away and when I was out of her reach, I turned back to my target. I saw she'd stopped concentrating on whatever she was concentrating on and had her eyes on me.
'Hey,' I said quietly when I got to her, her brows drew slightly together, her head tipped a bit to the side and she replied hesitantly, 'Erm… hey.'
'Do you, um… mind talking?' I asked.
'No,' she said softly.
Awesome, she spoke English.
Then I watched a small, weird smile play at her lips. 'Especially not since you're the first person I've talked to from Hawkvale since I was taken.'
Oh no.
Taken?
Oh no part two.
Hawkvale?
I was getting the distinct impression she had not woken here from a dream. Not like me.
Her hand came out and captured mine, holding strong, her eyes searching mine, she whispered, 'It'll be good knowing, once we're claimed, someone close will be from home.'
Um.
On no again.
Claimed?
She'd spoken two sentences and we already had a lot of ground to cover so I prioritized.
'I'm not from Hawkvale,' I told her and her head tipped further to the side.
'Bellebryn?' she asked.
Okay, there it was again. I was thinking she wasn't like me.
'Um… no, listen –'
Her face changed before she cut me off to say with some surprise, 'Middleland?'
'No, I'm from Seattle.'
This time, her brows shot together and she asked, 'Where is that? Is that across the Green Sea?'
'Yes,' I lied swiftly in order to move things on. Then I asked, 'Where are we?'
Her body started and her face went slack. She stared at me a moment and then her hand in mine squeezed and she pulled me closer to her.
When I was near, she took my other hand and got closer to me, declaring, 'You were sheltered.'
'Sheltered?' I asked and she nodded.
'My father travelled, my mother died when I was a child, so he took me with him. He shared with me many things…' she got even closer and her voice dropped to a whisper, 'including tales of Korwahk.' Then she looked around and squeezed my hands. Prism casino bonus.
'Korwahk?' I prompted and her eyes came back to me.
'Where we are now.'
Korwahk.
It could not be said I was a geography whiz but I was thinking I had no freaking clue where Korwahk was. Or Hawkvale, Bellebryn, Middleland or the Green Sea.
What I knew was, none of them were home.
I already had a feeling I was screwed, seeing I was in sacrificial virgin attire and in a corral. But now I was thinking I was way screwed.
My attention focused back on her when she went on to say in a dire tone, 'The Wife Hunt.'
Uh-oh.
'The what?' I asked, my voice breathy.
She dropped a hand, kept the other one and slid an arm around my waist so we were even closer before she asked, 'What's your name, my lovely?'
'Circe,' I answered.
She gave me her small, weird smile and whispered, 'Circe… that's pretty.'
'What's yours?' I asked.
'Narinda. I'm named after my great aunt who, they said, looked like me. Though, I wouldn't know because I never met her.'
'That's pretty too,' I told her and her arm at my waist gave a squeeze.
Then she continued in a gentle voice, 'So, the tales of the Korwahk Horde were kept from you.'
Dynasty Episodes Online
'You could put it like that,' I replied and she nodded with understanding.
'Many girls, my father told me, were sheltered from this information. It's understandable. I spent my life mostly on ships with men. I was loved,' again with the small, weird smile, 'but not sheltered.'
I knew what that was like.
'So you know where we are, why we're in this pen?' I asked.
'Indeed,' she whispered but before I could ask more, a strange, expectant vibe stole through the crowd, most of the girls in the enclosure came alert and then suddenly there were drums. The steady, deep, thumping beat of very loud drums.
Oh crap. I did not get a good feeling about that.
'The parade,' Narinda breathed.
Golden Dynasty Read Online
Oh crap!
'What parade?' I asked but her eyes weren't on me though she kept her hands on me. She was looking outside the corral so I shook her hand. 'What parade, Narinda?'
The Golden Dynasty Read Online
Her eyes came to me and she said urgently, 'We'll walk together and we'll talk. Stay close to me. We'll try to hide you. You do not want the Dax to see your hair.'
'What?' I whispered but the girls were moving, pushing in toward a swing of the stakes that was being opened by a guard.
Narinda moved me with the girls, keeping me close, her hands on me, her eyes scanning.
'We will not be able to hide you from the warriors. They will see you. The Dax, though, I hear does not leave his podium and gives scant attention to the parade. It is said he is prepared each Hunt to claim his bride, should he see something he likes, but he has never seen something he likes. We should try to keep it that way.'
We moved through the opening and out being jostled by some of the girls who clearly could not wait to start the parade.
Very weird.
'They don't seem scared,' I whispered to Narinda as she kept us moving ever forward, a line of onlookers forming at both our sides.
'They are Korwahk,' Narinda explained. 'Some, daughters of The Horde, others from the villages and settlements of Korwahk. They feel this is a great honor, to be chosen for the Hunt. They grow up wanting nothing more than to be chosen, paraded, hunted, claimed and taken as wife by a Korwahk warrior.'
