Chapter 3
Three
ZAKAI
Icursed my past self repeatedly for ignoring my common tongue lessons.
I was foolish. If I’d learned even a little, I might have been able to explain myself to the barbarians who took me away.
Now, I was gods know where, more than four days’ journey from the town they’d taken me from, with no way of communicating that I wasn’t from the towns and therefore couldn’t be a tribute.
My stomach churned with anxiety I wouldn’t let show on my face when they finally pulled me out of the carriage and guided me toward a tent.
We were so close to it, I couldn’t even get a good look around before I was led into a large tent with the other tributes and nudged onto a soft cushion.
Several barbarians stood guard along the walls, but none looked menacing like the rumors I’d heard.
I’d expected worse treatment from the moment I was picked up.
But they’d fed us, kept us warm, and their hands were gentle when they helped us up and down from the carriage.
It was confusing but not entirely important. Surely someone in this little village could speak my language. I just needed to explain, and they’d send me home. If they didn’t, they’d risk a war with my people. I knew my father wouldn’t stop to get me back.
That is if he knew I was still alive… Hopefully, Umaira had gotten away and informed him of what happened. I hadn’t seen her since the brothel, and she wasn’t picked up by the barbarians along with me. She was a clever woman. And currently my only hope.
I scanned my surroundings, taking in everything I could.
I wasn’t skilled in navigation, having never had to do so myself, so trying to escape could make things more difficult for me.
Then again, if the rumors were true, I’d have no other choice.
I’d rather spend the rest of my life trying to find my way home than allow them to assault me.
It wouldn’t be easy, since they had more soldiers here than they had while we were traveling.
Even just in this tent, there were half a dozen standing around watching us.
My stomach churned again. Would it even be possible for me to escape?
Voices outside the tent drew my focus, and I watched as an older man and a stoic one stepped into the tent. The older man lifted his hand, his voice soft and reassuring as he spoke—at least, that was the inflection I heard. I could be wrong, though, since I couldn’t understand his words.
After the older man was done speaking and had left, barbarians began coming in one by one. They picked up a tribute and walked back out without so much as a greeting. The tributes, mostly women, all cried as they were being taken away.
Was this when they started hurting people?
I’d rather die than let them hurt me. I shrank back every time a barbarian came inside, eyeing them warily until I was the last one left.
I hoped maybe they’d forgotten about me so I could sneak away.
My relief was short-lived when the stoic barbarian from before came in with another barbarian beside him.
I studied the first one as he approached.
His muscular arms were formidable, covered in tattoos and so thick I wasn’t sure I could wrap both hands around them.
His thighs were even larger. He was broad-chested with a trim waist and big hands and feet.
His hair was shaved on the sides and longer on top, half of it pulled into a bun at the back of his head.
To keep it out of his face, maybe? He was intimidating at first glance, and not someone I would easily best in a fight, but his face made me pause.
His jaw looked as though it was chiseled from stone, covered in a light dusting of stubble.
His thick eyebrows were drawn down, and he was getting frown lines already, despite how young he looked.
But his eyes… They were a blue so deep they reminded me of the ocean.
I only caught glimpses, but they made me want to see more.
Unfortunately, he was speaking to the man who’d come in with him, and he barely looked at me as he gestured the barbarian in my direction.
Nope. Not going to happen.
I launched to my feet, dodging around the two barbarians in an attempt to get out of the tent and away. Maybe I could hide in the forest until they slept, then steal a horse and leave.
Arms wrapped around my middle, pulling me back before I could even reach the tent flap.
I screeched and flailed, causing the barbarian to drop me.
It knocked the wind out of me and sent shocks of pain through my tailbone.
I gritted my teeth, biting back a cry, and tried again to escape.
This time the stoic one grabbed me, his muscles bulging as he pinned my arms to my sides and held me tight.
I kicked my legs and tried to throw him off balance, but he didn’t budge.
Ultimately, I wore myself out trying to escape his iron grip and got nothing for my efforts but sweat and pain.
When I went limp in his grasp, he relaxed his grip just enough for me to breathe easier. It was then I noticed he was murmuring to me. His smooth voice was gentle, reassuring like that older one had been earlier.
Too bad I knew better than to trust him.
UTTIN
I could tell without any effort that the tribute was scheming.
I’d dealt with a few like him in the past, and they always caused the most trouble.
Usually, it only lasted long enough for them to get a basic understanding of our language.
Once they understood they were safe, they stopped fighting so hard.
It had become easier since Finn’s arrival.
He’d changed how we did things, explaining to the tributes in the common tongue what their life would be like, and teaching them our language so they could understand.
I’d always thought if we spoke to them in the common tongue, they would refuse to learn, but he’d proved us wrong.
This one wouldn’t be so simple. Not until we found someone who spoke his language. I knew only the common tongue. The same went for the rest of my brothers. Our only hope was Simon.
I’d thought to put the tribute with Tyut in the meantime.
While he had no interest in relationships with either males or females, he was a calm soul, and he’d agreed to protect the tribute until we understood him better and could find him a better match.
Now I wasn’t so sure. Tyut was calm but not one for conflict.
I was worried the tribute would get the best of him.
Once the tribute stopped fighting, I slowly lowered him to his feet.
He wasn’t as small as Simon or Finn but wasn’t tall, either.
He was leanly muscled, his skin was a honeyed amber, and his black hair was thick and curly.
He scowled at me over his shoulder, unhappy with my treatment, but he should have expected it.
I couldn’t just let him run. He would endanger himself, and I couldn’t allow that.
Hesitantly, I released his arms and straightened. I thought that the fight had left him, but the moment he was no longer encircled in my arms, he elbowed me hard in the side and took off again. I grunted from the impact, stunned just long enough for him to dash out of the tent.
He didn’t get far. Tyut and I hurried after him, only to find him maybe ten paces away, shouting and kicking as Einar had him pinned against the cushions.
Matthew watched anxiously from a few feet away, clutching the pillow he’d probably been seated on.
Normally Einar wouldn’t get involved with tributes, but from the looks of it, this one got too close to his bondmate.
Einar was overprotective and trusted no one around Matthew. Not even another tribute.
The tribute wasn’t going anywhere with Einar pinning him like that, but I didn’t like the terror in his eyes.
I stepped in, nudging Einar out of the way so I could help the tribute to his feet.
He fought against me as well, and it was obvious there would be no settling him tonight. Not while he was so frightened.
With a heavy sigh, I turned to Tyut. “Are you willing to bind him to you?”
His eyes widened, and he looked between me and the panting tribute who was still looking around for an escape. We didn’t like to use restraints—it sent the wrong message—but when it came to tributes like this one, binding him to a brother was the one way we could guarantee his safety.
“I believe he is better left with you for the time being,” Orthorr said as he finally rejoined us.
He had gone to deal with the abandoned children and had left me to manage with the tributes by myself.
The turn of events only made it more obvious to me that I wasn’t as suited to the position of clan leader as he thought.
“Clan leader?” I queried, grunting when the tribute made another bid to wiggle free of my grasp. I hauled him back, keeping my grip just shy of bruising on his arms.
“Until he better understands, he needs someone with a strong will,” Orthorr said, putting his hand out for a set of metal bindings.
The tribute thrashed harder in my arms when he saw them, foreign words spilling from his lips that were edged in panic.
I didn’t enjoy the thought of binding him to me, but I worried for his safety if he ran off.
Hopefully, in a day or two, he’d settle and I could remove them.
Otherwise, we would be stuck together until Simon returned home. The day couldn’t come too soon.