Fantasyland 02 The Golden Dynasty (6 page)

“My name is Circe,” I told her quietly.

“Pardon, my dear?”

I sighed then repeated, “My name is Circe,
not kah Dahksahna.”

“Circe, lovely,” she murmured. “But
Dahksahna isn’t your name, it is just you. It means ‘queen’ and you
are our queen.”

I decided not to reply. That had been
working with the other women, no reply, eventually they’d go
away.

Her fingers gave me another squeeze and I
felt her bend closer.

“I remember feeling much the same as you.
Seerim, my warrior husband, was different than the Dax, of course,
but I remember this feeling, my dear. I know it is not a good
feeling. But you will come to understand it is their way.”

“It sucks,” I muttered, forgetting about not
responding.

“Sucks?” she asked, sounding confused.

“
It sucks, it stinks, it’s for the birds,”
I explained, rolling to my back again with my arm over my breasts
and I locked eyes with her. “It’s hideous, foul, vile, detestable…
it
sucks.
”

Her eyes got soft and she said quietly, “It
is their way.”

“
Their way
sucks,
” I returned and rolled back to my side.

Her voice came back to me. “I understand
you see it that way. But, they know of our way, of wooing and
falling in love and waiting to claim your mate after your wedding
celebration, not the peasants doing that but soldiers doing
it,
warriors,
and
they
think
that
is strange.
Laughable. Silly. They think it is ridiculous, not to face a
challenge, best your brothers in order to earn a beautiful wife.
You don’t believe me now, but I promise, as unbelievable as it
seems, you will come to understand their way. I have seen, now, ten
Wife Hunts since my own. There are girls like you, girls who settle
in and enjoy their lives with The Horde. You will too. You just
need to get up and face it, learn their ways, be amongst
–”

I cut her off. “I’m not getting up.”

“You must.”

“Well, I’m not.”

I felt her get close, her mouth at my ear.
“You
must
Dahksahna
Circe. For your slaves, for your Dax, for The Horde and… for
you.
”

My body got tight and my head turned to
her. “My…
slaves?
”

I watched her nod. “The women who have been
seeing to you. Those are your slaves. The Dax has given them to
you. It is very generous. Most warrior brides receive a slave, at
most two. I have been with my warrior over twenty years and I only
have three.”

I blinked then repeated,
“
Slaves?
”

Her face flooded with understanding but
still she stated, “The Horde takes slaves. It, too, is their way.
In fact, this is the way throughout the Southlands.”

Jeez, these guys
were
savages.

“That’s insane,” I whispered.

“It is their way,” she replied and I had to
admit, I was tired of her saying that.

“It’s insane,” I repeated.

“It is their way, Dahksahna Circe,” she
returned firmly. “And if you do not get up, the Dax will be forced
to intervene.”

Uh-oh, I did not like the sound of
that.

I stared at her. She went on but she did it
looking like she really didn’t want to.

“
He has bragged greatly about you. The
Lahnahsahna, a
true
warrior’s
wife.”

Is that what Lahnahsahna meant?

And…

He
bragged
about me?

She kept talking. “He told his people he
did not claim you. He told his people he
battled
you before he won you. He told his people you
challenged him. The warrior king’s bride fought like a warrior. She
did not lay back and accept her fate. She stood strong and shouted
in the face of a king. She fought and did not give up. Even knowing
she’d taste defeat, she fought on, like a true warrior. He told his
people you are not his queen. You are his
warrior
queen.”

I stared at her not knowing what to say.

She took this as her cue to keep going.
“He clothed you in gold before the rite. This is not their way,
Dahksahna Circe. A warrior, king or not, never but
never
covers the bride they claimed
before the rite is performed. It is important to them to display
their triumph in
all
its beauty.
Dax Lahn clothing you in gold was an announcement to his people
that you are more than his Dahksahna, you are the golden queen, the
warrior bride. This is not a simple declaration to make. A Dax
would not do this unless he believed into his soul that he had
claimed the golden queen.”

“Wh… what,” I stammered, “is the golden
queen?”

She gave me a gentle smile before saying,
“It is the Korwahk people’s belief that the mightiest Dax in their
history will find the golden queen, a warrior bride, fair of hair,
kind of heart, fierce of spirit. This story has been told for
centuries, millennia… the mighty Dax and his golden Dahksahna would
unite and the Golden Dynasty would begin bringing the Korwahk
nation great wealth, abundant crops, fruitful women. Magic would
descend upon the land and the Korwahk people would be safe under
the strength of their king and the enchantments of their
queen.”

“
That’s… that’s… that’s
whacked,
” I told her, lifting up to sitting,
pulling the sheet over my breasts and when her face grew confused,
I explained quickly, “Insane. Crazy.”

She shook her head and sat back, smiling
at me. “They do not think it is crazy. They believe it is true.
Every generation prays that the mighty king and golden queen will
reign during their time on this earth. And they believe when the
mighty Dax finds his golden queen, he will clothe her in gold
before the rite and install her at his side. This is what the Dax
did. And this is not something he would do unless he
believed
he had found his golden queen
and…” she leaned forward, “
this is what he did
. And in so doing, he brought great joy to his
people. But you do not show yourself. You do not walk amongst them.
You hide in your tent and there are whispers. Whispers that you are
not what he said you were. Whispers that the Dax lied to them,
bragged with falsehood, claimed a Dynasty that was not his to
claim. And this is very dangerous, these whispers, dangerous for
him and
for
you.
”

I stared at her knowing my eyes were
wide.

“Why?” I asked on a breath.

“
Because, my dear, there is no dynasty
amongst the Korwahk now. A Dax becomes a Dax through challenge. He
does not inherit a kingdom, he
seizes
it,” she whispered.

Oh boy.

She kept speaking. “The Dax only stays the
Dax as long as he can defeat any challenge. If he is killed, his
reign transfers to the warrior who defeated him or, when he knows
he can no longer stand up to a challenge, he and his queen go into
exile and they do not live with The Horde of the Daxshee. But by
claiming you his golden queen, he claimed the reign for himself
until his death and then his son and so on until the Golden Dynasty
falls, if it ever does. This is
not
a trivial claim to make. It challenges their way of life.
There will be those who will wish to prove it wrong, there will be
challenges to the Dynasty and you, hiding in your tents and not
showing them you are their golden warrior queen, are putting our
Dax in jeopardy.”

That I didn’t care about.

No freaking way.

“And?” I asked sharply and she blinked.

Then she said softly, “And, if the Dax
decides he has been mistaken, he will need to make that known
amongst his people prior to any challenges being thrown. And he
will do this, my dear, he will renounce you and he will do it in a
way you will
not
like.”

Shit.

She kept talking, “But, if a challenge is
thrown before he does this and the Dax falls,
you
fall. They will kill him, my dear, but
you
they will not kill.”

That didn’t sound bad, or at least the words
didn’t, the way she said them did.

“And?” I asked a lot less sharply and a lot
more hesitantly.

She studied me. Then she said carefully,
“And, they will burn your tent, they will murder your slaves… after
enjoying them,” she eyed me, “
repeatedly.
” I sucked in breath and she kept going. “They will loot
your belongings and you… you, my dear, they will mutilate in ways
and in places no woman wants to be mutilated. Then they will share
you; share you amongst all the warriors until they lose interest in
you. Then you will be cast out and it will be known that if anyone
provides you aid, they will be punished. You will die of thirst or
malnutrition, burning in the sun. They will not kill you but you
will die but before you die you’ll
want
to die. No death is pleasant, Dahksahna Circe, but
that
death would be far more
unpleasant than most.”

Dear God, she had
that
right.

Seriously, this… place…
sucked.

I stared into her eyes. Then I looked beyond
her at the five women who’d been serving me and caring for me in
kind ways for three days and had been so gentle with me that awful
night. They were standing in a huddle just inside the flap to the
tent.

They looked more than anxious.

They looked freaking scared.

Then I looked back into her eyes.

Then I whispered, “What’s your name?”

“Diandra, my queen.”

“All right, Diandra,” I said softly, making
my decision, “let me get up. I’ve got some people who need to see
me.”

Diandra kept hold of my eyes for a long
moment before, slowly, she smiled.

Getting A Few Things Straight

I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed
waiting for my king to come home.

I had spent most of the day with
Diandra.

That morning, I had gotten out of bed and
Diandra had called for my robe, or my lornya, as they called it. It
was long, had slits up the side, was sleeveless and was made of the
finest light blue silk I’d ever seen.

While I ate (creamy yogurt, sweet dried
fruit and some kind of grain all mixed together, it was actually
quite tasty) and drank coffee (the only good thing so far, the
savages had coffee, though the milk they had to put in it tasted
slightly tangy), Diandra chatted to me about Seerim, her three sons
(all, she bragged openly, in training to be warriors, her first,
she bragged scarily, had already made his “first kill”) and her one
daughter (“He would deny it, he is proud of his warrior sons, but
Sheena is Seerim’s favorite,” she said), my women (I refused to
call them slaves) carted in a big, oval copper tub with one side
swayed back and filled it with buckets of steaming water. Then they
poured some milky substance in it, some oil, swirled it around and
dropped flower petals on top.

After I was finished eating, three of them
guided me to the warm, fragrant bath and Diandra went to some
trunks in the corner with the dark skinned woman (Teetru was her
name and Diandra confirmed that, since she once had the charge of a
Maroo princess (Maroo being Teetru’s homeland), she therefore had
experience with serving “royalty” and she was their boss of sorts).
I tried to protest but they refused to accept as they bathed me and
washed my hair in a bath that smelled vaguely of spice, vaguely of
musk and not-so-vaguely of orange blossoms.

I had to admit, it was nice. It was weird,
but it was nice.

Once bathed, they clothed me in an outfit
Teetru and Diandra chose. A sarong woven with gold thread shot with
white and turquoise blue with a hint of silver. This was attached
to a wide, braided belt of thick turquoise, white and gold threads
with thin gold chains plaited through. My breasts were wrapped in a
turquoise bandeau bikini top. Added to this were gold bands at my
biceps, a necklace that was a fall of intricate gold chains with
tiny, blinking aquamarine stones and chandelier earrings of the
same.

Best of all, they gave me a pair of
turquoise silk underwear. Actual
underwear.
They fit snug in the ass and the silk had no give
but I didn’t care. I wanted to do cartwheels because I… had…
underwear
.

And, okay, it sucked to admit but there
was no way around it. The outfit was freaking
great.
Everything about it was
amazing.
The material, the colors, the
jewels, they freaking
rocked.

And since I had nothing (so far) but coffee
to be happy about, I was not going to berate myself for being happy
about my cool-as-shit clothes.

I had to hang onto something, didn’t I?

They sat me down and put eye shadow and kohl
on my eyes and a gooey, tasty stuff tinted pink on my lips. They
also brushed out my hair, dipping their fingers in a clay pot with
more goo and gliding it through my hair, twisting it in long coils
then securing it back from my face with a succession of little gold
pins with aquamarine stones at the end (almost but not quite like
bobby pins) that went from ear, over the top of my head, to
ear.