Rider's Resolve (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  The tribes were too small and lived too close together for that sort of thing to be accepted.

  Unfortunately, life in the Daliphana was very, very different.

  There, a woman wasn’t even allowed to kiss a man unless she was married to him. The newcomers saw a woman like N’la—who seemed to pick a different man every single night—and they didn’t understand. They thought that her giving herself to one man made her available to any man. They didn’t grasp that in the tribes a woman could choose to give herself freely to one or more men and yet refuse another. In the Daliphana a woman like N’la would’ve been cast out of her family, and killed or sold as a slave for the shame she’d caused.

  But this wasn’t the Daliphana.

  Luden and his men knew the rules.

  They knew that touching a woman against her will wasn’t allowed. And they knew the consequences, too.

  Of course, N’la wasn’t helping things by being so cavalier about it all. There was nothing wrong with what she’d been doing, but most members of the tribes cared a little bit more about how their actions impacted others. In her old tribe, the men had grown wise to her ways and simply ignored her until she had no one left to sleep with, which was one of the reasons she’d chosen to leave her old tribe for this one.

  But the newcomers seemed incapable of ignoring her. Just a few days before, two of the men had gotten into a knife fight over her, and now this…

  Didn’t change the rules, though.

  If Murin had tried to force her then he needed to be punished so all would understand the consequences of acting that way in the tribes. And so worse didn’t happen later. If this continued, someone was going to end up dead.

  Luden turned to N’la. “Is that all he did? Grab you?”

  “Is that all? All? He thrust his tongue into my mouth.”

  Luden frowned. “But he just kissed you, right? He didn’t…touch you elsewhere? He didn’t…rape you.”

  N’la’s glare was sharp enough to slice Luden into pieces. “Yes, that’s all he did.” She turned on K’lrsa. “Is that accepted now? For a man to grab a woman against her will and force his tongue down her throat?”

  Luden turned to Murin. “What were you thinking? You know you can’t just take a woman for your pleasure here.”

  K’lrsa clenched her fists at the word, here. Because, of course, it was perfectly acceptable to do something like that in the Daliphana.

  No man of the tribes would ever grab a woman against her will. Ever. But in the Daliphana a lone woman away from her family was fair game for any sort of abuse. It was her fault for straying from the protection of the men responsible for her.

  “It wasn’t a big deal.” Murin’s expression was petulant. “I just wanted a little of what everyone else had already had.” He shrugged. “If she didn’t want to give it, she could’ve just said no.”

  “I did. With this.” N’la waved the bloody knife at him.

  Murin flinched back. “Get her away from me. She’s crazy.”

  N’la took a step closer, the knife clenched tight in her fist. “Crazy? You forced your tongue down my throat. You’re lucky I didn’t castrate you right then.” She spat on the ground at his feet.

  “How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t be into it? You were with Luden just yesterday. And B’lar the day before. And Noler the day before that. It was just a matter of time until you got around to me.”

  N’la screamed in rage and lunged at him. “Never. You disgust me.”

  Luden grabbed N’la and twisted the knife out of her grip. “Enough.” He held her close for an extra moment before signaling to two of the Riders standing nearby. “Take her.”

  As N’la protested, he pointed to two men from the Daliphate. “And you take him. Keep them apart until morning. We’ll discuss this when everyone has had a chance to calm down a bit.”

  As Murin and N’la were dragged away, N’la kicking and screaming in rage about how this wasn’t the way of the tribes, Luden turned to K’lrsa, speaking softly, “I know N’la’s done nothing wrong according to your ways, but this has to stop. She’s playing the men against each other. It was only a matter of time until something like this happened.”

  K’lrsa snorted. “It would help if the men in the tribe stopped sleeping with her. Was Murin telling the truth? Were you with her just last night?”

  Luden’s eyes burned with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “She wasn’t my first choice. But she offered and I knew it would mean nothing to her so I accepted. Isn’t that allowed in the tribes? Or do I still not understand your ways?”

  “Of course, it is. You’re free to sleep with anyone who wants to sleep with you. I guess I just expected you to set a better example.”

  He stepped closer. “I would if you’d just say yes to me. It’s for the good of the tribe for us to be together.”

  “Don’t blame this on me.” She turned away, shaking with anger.

  She hated being made to feel like it was her fault because she’d refused him. It wasn’t.

  She had the right to stay alone if she wanted.

  Luden was a good man. He was attractive, intelligent, someone she worked well with and who others respected. She should want him. But…

  But it always came back to the same thing: He wasn’t Badru.

  And no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t let go of that dream of what could’ve been if only Badru had lived.

  She walked away, her hands clenched into fists, wishing she were somewhere, anywhere but where she was.

  Chapter 3

  K’lrsa leaned close as Fallion galloped across the plains, letting the wind whip at her hair, losing herself in the perfect harmony of rider and horse, moving as one. This was the one thing that was right in her life—Fallion, her beautiful golden horse that was so much more than a mere horse.

  The moon was almost full—they could’ve flown if she’d wanted, soaring high above everything in that space that was and wasn’t part of this world—but she needed the speed and immediacy of the ground churning beneath Fallion’s hooves and the feel of the wind as it tried to tear her from his back.

  She’d barely slept in the weeks since they’d left the gathering grounds.

  The chaos of daily life in her new tribe was bad enough; the nights were worse. She hated sleeping alone, knowing Badru was never coming back to her, that she’d never feel the warm comfort of his arm wrapped around her waist and his strong body pressed against hers.

  But she hated more being drawn to the land of the moon dream each and every night by meddling gods who’d taken everything and everyone she loved. So far she’d managed to avoid them by forcing herself to wake as soon as she found herself there, but eventually she’d have to face them.

  She couldn’t go on much longer with so little sleep.

  They rode until the moon finally sank below the far horizon, ushering in the gray time before dawn. The Trickster’s time—when only fools dared travel.

  She longed to keep going, to keep moving, never stopping, never thinking, but if she did they’d be lost, led astray by the vile little brat and his cruel tricks. And as much as she didn’t want to return to camp, she also didn’t want to wander lost on those misty paths to nowhere. Or worse, find herself trapped and taunted, pinched and poked by the Trickster.

  They found a good spot to rest that had a natural spring nestled at the base of a small hill. With water and protection from the wind, it was a better spot than many she’d known back when all she’d had to worry about was tracking the next baru herd and avoiding her mother’s attempts to settle her down.

  She’d give almost anything to go back to that time. To sit around the family fire and listen to her mother complain that Fallion smelled better than she did and watch her father try not to laugh as he winked at her behind her mother’s back. To watch D’lan, so intense, so serious, work on shaping a new bow. To have M’lara crawl into her lap and beg for a story.

  But her parents were dead, lo
ng since passed on to the Promised Plains where she could never see them again. And D’lan was off with the White Horse Tribe, his attention focused on his pregnant wife and building a life with her.

  All she had was M’lara.

  And Vedhe and F’lia, too. But…It wasn’t the same.

  She lit a small fire and stared into the dancing flames. What was she doing trying to lead a tribe that didn’t even want to listen to her? If it weren’t for the necklace, she’d be no one and nothing as far as they were concerned. It was too much, having to fight them every step of the way.

  And this mess with Murin and N’la…

  That man needed to go. Vedhe swore he wasn’t evil, but he didn’t have to be evil to cause harm.

  At least he’d pulled his foolishness on a woman like N’la who hadn’t hesitated to put him in his place. Another woman might have let it happen, unsure how to react to something so unexpected. F’lia certainly would have. At least when she was younger. Just look at the man she’d ended up with after L’ral died…

  It was only luck that had saved her from a lifetime of misery and possession.

  K’lrsa poked at the fire with a stick, sighing.

  No.

  Murin couldn’t be allowed to stay in the tribe. The kind of belief that led a man to do what he had was a slow poison that would eventually spread and destroy them. He had to be removed now. As an example for all the others.

  She rolled her shoulders, trying to release the tension she felt there. The Council wouldn’t agree with her. Luden would say it was a minor matter. The other two newcomers on the Council would side with him. B’lar would, too, because he wanted to be liked by everyone all the time so never voted against the majority no matter what it was.

  Which only left F’lia to stand with her, but F’lia would either keep quiet or argue to give Murin another chance because he was new.

  Which meant the next time Murin pulled a woman aside and forced himself on her that woman wouldn’t bother with the Council. And why should she? Especially seeing what had happened with N’la? She’d either castrate Murin herself right then—which is what K’lrsa would do if anyone ever tried that with her—or, worse, she’d let it happen and he’d keep doing it to her or to others. He’d just get smarter about choosing his targets.

  Either way. It wouldn’t be good for the tribe.

  Fallion whinnied softly and whuffed at her hair. She scratched his nose, taking comfort in his steady presence. “At least I still have you, micora.”

  She turned her mind from the problems at camp to the men Aran had sent across the barren lands, but that was no better.

  She hoped sending the men back to Aran would show him he couldn’t defeat them, but she worried this was just the beginning. Aran wasn’t the type of man to accept defeat. And if he wasn’t going to leave them alone…

  Then someone needed to stop him.

  Her. Because who else could do it? The tribes were hunters, not warriors. And no one else had a weapon that could challenge him.

  But she didn’t want to face Aran. She was done with the Toreem Daliphate. The time she’d spent there was enough for a lifetime.

  Maybe she could convince the newcomers to go back and defeat him…

  Turn his army somehow. He was just one man, if they all stood up to him, he’d be nothing. And that would solve all her problems…

  But even as she thought it, she realized it wouldn’t work.

  It would take a thousand men like Luden to manage something like that. Unfortunately, the others weren’t like him. They were outcasts and misfits who’d been too scared to return home in defeat.

  Luden…

  Luden was something else. A man who’d seen opportunity and taken it. The type of man used to winning, to getting his way.

  She broke a small stick into pieces and threw them into the fire one by one.

  She wished he wanted someone else. F’lia would probably take him. But no, he’d set his sights on her and wasn’t willing to look elsewhere. He’d been patient so far—making it clear he was interested but not pushing it—but that wouldn’t last forever.

  And she didn’t think he’d accept her explanation that maybe she just wanted to be alone. That it wasn’t a matter of choosing the best option available to her, which he admittedly was. It was a matter of choosing what would make her most happy and that was…

  She sighed and buried her face in her hands.

  She wished they’d all just go away so she could live her pathetic little life alone in the middle of the plains hunting with Fallion and avoiding anyone and everyone and wishing that the man she loved wasn’t already dead.

  Of course, even Fallion was a problem. Now that she knew what he was—a gift from the gods that could fly and who knew what else—she really should send him back. She had no right to keep him when she wanted nothing to do with them.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She loved him.

  And he’d also been a gift from her father—a symbol of his belief she could be a Rider. Plus, he’d been the only steady presence in her life through all that had happened. She’d almost lost him once through her own stupidity, she wasn’t about to give him up now.

  She just hoped he’d stay with her…

  She glanced at his silhouette in the gray haze of early morning, wondering what would happen if the gods tried to take him away. Could they? How much control did they have over him?

  She hoped not. She couldn’t take another loss. Not now. Not after all that had happened.

  Shivering, she wrapped herself in a blanket and curled up next to the fire, hoping for a few moments of sleep before she had to return to camp to deal with Murin and N’la and Luden and all the rest of it.

  Chapter 4

  But as soon as K’lrsa fell asleep, she found herself in the land of the moon dream. Everything was more vibrant there, more alive than in real life. The moon was so full and bright, it seemed close enough to touch. And the sky was full of stars, so many she could never hope to count them, even in an entire lifetime. Desert dunes stretched in all directions, so vast they made her feel smaller than the smallest grain of sand

  She willed herself to awaken, like she had every other night, but it didn’t work. She was trapped.

  She started to walk, her feet slipping and sliding along the dunes, one direction the same as any other. There was no Hidden City in the distance, no mountain range, just wave after wave of dunes stretching forever in every direction.

  A soft breeze caressed her skin, blowing softly against the thin strips of fabric entwined around her body—the garments of the Moon Dance. She tore at the gauzy fabric as tears ran down her cheeks, remembering all those nights she’d spent with Badru, dancing to the rhythm of the universe, their bodies moving as one.

  The breeze shifted and strengthened until it whipped at her, throwing sand into her face and stinging her exposed skin as the moon disappeared, replaced by a sun so scorchingly hot it burned.

  “Stop,” a voice boomed behind her.

  Father Sun. It had to be. She shivered and tried to keep going, but she couldn’t. Her feet wouldn’t move.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  She turned, shielding her eyes against the glare of his presence. “I can’t.”

  The light dimmed slightly—still glaring and brutally hot, but no longer blinding—and she lowered her hand.

  Father Sun stood before her, a warrior about her father’s age, his body crisscrossed with the scars of battle, his eyes smoldering like a banked fire.

  She fought the fear that pushed her backward a step, focusing instead on her anger at what the gods had done to her. What they’d taken from her.

  She spat at his feet, her hands clenched tight in a mixture of fear and fury.

  He laughed. “Would you truly make me your enemy?”

  “Yes. I hate you. I hate all of you.”

  “Why?” He tilted his head to the side, as if genuinely confused. “What have we done to you?
”

  She shook her head, unable to articulate something that had slowly built within her, day after day, week after week. “Those tests you put me through in the Hidden City. The dragon? And my father? Or, should I say, my fake father? What kind of cruelty was that?”

  “You had to prove yourself worthy.”

  “And how did killing a dragon do that? Or walking away from my father? What did that prove?” K’lrsa turned away, shaking her head in disgust, but he stood before her once more.

  She glared at him. “And you abandoned me in the Daliphate. You sent me there as a slave and then just…Let me stumble through on my own. You didn’t even warn me what it would be like. Or who Badru was.”

  “It wasn’t our place. Other gods rule there. And we didn’t abandon you. When you fled, my wife opened the land of the moon dream for you, didn’t she?”

  “What about Herin? You sent her there and then did nothing to save her.”

  His eyes burned red. “Herin’s fate is not yours to judge.”

  “You killed Badru,” she cried, tears pouring down her cheeks.

  “No. Badru made a choice. As you’ve made choices. Am I now to blame for all the foolish choices men make?”

  K’lrsa crossed her arms. “You could’ve warned me what would happen if he entered the city.”

  “And then what? Watched you fail? Watched the tribes destroyed and the Hidden City given to Aran? Because one man’s life mattered more to you than any other?”

  “I would’ve found a way without him.”

  “Would you have? Do you honestly think you’d have made it through the challenges alone? Without Badru? And Herin? And Lodie? And Garzel? They all went there with you, knowing the price they were paying.” He stepped closer, looming over K’lrsa, the heat from his skin beating against her like fists. “If Badru hadn’t found you in that final challenge, would you have had the strength to leave your father behind? Would you have given your father up to save a tribe that was willing to believe the worst of you?”

  K’lrsa bit her lip. She might have spent weeks or months there, thinking just one more day until it was too late. Only Badru’s intervention had pulled her away in time.