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“We believe that an ancient Elthika took the heartstones and dropped them over different nations. There are reports of other heartstones all over this planet. Dakkar isn’t the only race that has possession of them.”
She straightened in my grip at that. “Why would an Elthika do that?”
“To share power,” I answered. “To give it freely. To start wars. To hide them. To grow them in different soils to see if they had different effects. Who knows. I’ve heard all theories. But the one thing that is never in disagreement among Elysom’s scholars is that it was an Elthika’s doing. Long ago.”
“We believe that they are gifts from our goddess, Kakkari,” she informed me, gazing up at me with those warm, seeking eyes. “I like our explanation better.”
I felt my lips curl slightly, and I hid it by looking away.
“The Karag don’t believe in gods or goddesses, do you?”
“We believe in our Elthika,” I answered her. “And our bonds with them. That’s all we need to know.”
She didn’t argue with me. In fact, she accepted my simple answer, inclining her head.
“How long will we be in the Arsadia?” she asked.
“Until after the illa’rosh, after the riding season is complete,” I told her. “Why?”
“I would like to do my own research on the lost horde kings. Sammenth and Ryena told me about the villages where they grew up. I was hoping to talk to some of the Elders, to see if I can record their knowledge, their stories before they’re truly lost forever.”
“If you make your bond with an Elthika, you can do whatever you want as queen,” I answered her.
“Truly?” she asked.
“Did you expect a fight from me about it?”
“Well…yes.”
“Fulfill your oath to the Sarrothian, Klara,” I started, dipping my head down so our eyes met, “and you can do whatever you please.”
A determined spark lit up her eyes. “I’ll do it, then.”
I didn’t hide my smile this time. “If that was all I needed to say, I wish I’d done it long before now.”
“That’s why we should learn more about each other,” she pointed out, though she kept her smug satisfaction at bay. “Don’t you agree?”
I grunted.
“Though I haven’t truly learned much about you tonight,” she added with an assessing look.
I grunted again.
“And you won’t tonight,” I said. “Now stop talking, wife. Let me enjoy my wildness in peace.”
“You won’t tell me just one tiny thing?” she pressed.
I bit out a sigh. She had been open with me tonight, had answered my own questions without complaint.
I swallowed down my discomfort when I said, “Do you know how a Sarrothian Karath is chosen?”
“No,” she said, a little breathless, like she couldn’t believe her pressing me had actually worked.
“They are taken from a pool of the best acolytes and riders for the territory when the position becomes open, either when the previous Karath dies or relinquishes his position or is removed.”
“Removed?” she asked.
“By the Elthika,” I answered, knowing that was how my predecessor had gone. “These choosings only happen once in a lifetime, maybe twice, if that. And it happened to fall during my rider season. Perhaps luck, or perhaps fate. One rider from each of Sarroth’s villages is chosen and sent to the cliffs. Whoever claims a Vyrin more often than not comes out a Karath, though other riders can challenge them. In the weeks following, those challenges can seem endless, but not many are foolish enough to stand against a Vyrin and their chosen rider. Except other Vyrins.”
I saw Klara process the information. And when her brow furrowed, I knew she was filling in gaps, what went unspoken.
“Haden was like a brother to me,” I told her, swallowed deeply. “Going into the illa’rosh that year, he was favored to be the next Karath. We both tried to claim a Vyrin that year. Lygath rejected him. Zaridan chose me. Nearly all the acolytes died that year. I tried to save Haden…but in the end I watched him fall. And I was challenged relentlessly in the aftermath. Elysom allowed a law where I could be challenged for a full year afterward. There were many who believed I had murdered my own friend to claim the throne of Sarroth. So that’s why I don’t like to speak of it.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, and I barely heard her over the rush of the falls. What struck me was how sad she looked by my confession. As if she hurt for me. “Sarkin, I had no idea…”
“What’s done is done,” I said, steeling my voice. “That year taught me a lot. It was a trial, and I came out with the respect of my people. I had to go through it.”
I’m glad I did, I thought. It made me a better Karath in the end because it taught me to trust very few and to build an Arsadian stone wall around me, allowing no one close.
“Enough for tonight,” I told her, releasing her only when she began to tread water. “It’s late. And you need sleep.”
“Will you return with me tonight?” she asked softly. The question struck me as vulnerable.
I blew out a rough breath. There was a reason why I’d stayed away…but I realized I couldn’t run forever.
“Yes,” I answered. “I will.”