Golden Dynasty Read Online
- The Golden Dynasty Read online. Page 2 Well, that was a positive way to look at it. “I just hope the warrior who chooses me is kind,” she said softly, her eyes were now peering at the sidelines from under her brows.
- Once there, he reported that the Dax had installed his golden Dahksahna at his side, heralding the rise of The Golden Dynasty.” I nodded when he stopped so he continued. “Upon reading the description of my queen, King Baldur recognized her as his own personal sorceress.
Read The Golden Dynasty online, free from your Pc, Mobile. The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2) is a Romance Books by Kristen Ashley.
I didn’t know if this was true or not. I hadn’t been paying that much attention mainly because I was freaked right the f**k out.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know enough about this stuff to know if he gave that guy an opportunity to give up or not. And, I have to say, I honestly wasn’t taking much in, I had other things on my mind,” I told her.
She gave me an understanding smile and said softly, “Of course not, my dear.” Then she took in a deep breath and went on, “That said, although there are few rules, like I mentioned, there is also honor and you do not sever a chain. Never. It is a slap in the face. An insult. It says you hold no respect for the other warrior. If a warrior has attached their chain to you the other warrior battles until that warrior is beaten, surrenders or has fallen and only then can they detach their chain and hook their own to their chosen bride. To sever the chain is to say you feel the battle will be won before it is even started. It’s actually worse than a slap in the face. It is akin to spitting in it.” She looked away and started us walking again. “Another bold statement,” she kept talking quietly, “King Lahn is forcing a challenge, I see. He grows impatient with Dortak. He wants him defeated.”
“But, if that’s true, why didn’t he kill him when he challenged him for me?” I asked.
“Because, my dear,” she patted my hand again and kept walking, “that would bear no witnesses. He will wait for Dortak’s challenge so he can humiliate him before all. He wants that shame to be the last thing he feels before the Dax takes his head.”
Oh God.
Takes his head?
Oh God!
At that, I decided I was done talking.
Diandra didn’t and chattered away as we walked through the encampment then she walked me back to my tent. Then she spoke to my women who hurried off to do whatever it was that they did. Not long after, bunches of large, square pillows, some with fringe all around, some with tassels at the four ends, some with no adornment, all silk, satin or brocade and all in rich colors, were arranged on some thick hides on the dusty stone around our tent and we reclined in the cool (ish) shade of the tent as the women brought us flat bread, strong cheese, dried, spiced meat, almonds and crisp, fresh, deliciously cold (if it can be believed) fruit juice.
I couldn’t say I was comfortable being waited on while lounging and five women rushed to answer my every unspoken whim. What I could say was that that particular conversation with the Dax was for some future time, if I was still around at that time (which, God, I hoped I was not) and if I ever decided I intended to try to speak to the brute.
A lot of people passed our tent as Diandra babbled at me and I part listened but mostly I tried to figure out what to do next. After awhile, it occurred to me that it was unlikely that many people passed the Dax’s tent on a normal day and it was much more likely that they’d come to check me out.
This made me feel weird, on show and I didn’t like it but then again, I didn’t like a lot of things so I kept my peace, kept my lounge and listened to Diandra talk.
In late afternoon, promising to come back the next day and take me to the marketplace bringing her daughter Sheena with her, Diandra left me.
And when she did I realized I’d forgotten to ask after Narinda and the evil (and apparently stupid) Dortak’s unlucky bride.
And after she left, I lay on the pillows noting that my women were busy bustling around doing whatever they were doing. But whatever they were doing, they were doing it no longer looking anxious but happy, smiling at each other while working and chattering.
I watched them and smiled whenever they caught my eye. They smiled back.
They seemed like nice ladies.
Shit, if I didn’t wake up home soon, I was probably going to have to get to know them and figure out what to do about them. But one thing I knew, whatever this world was or my place in it, I was not going to own slaves.
Then I sighed, fiddled with the tassel of a pillow, tried to sort my head out and smiled at anyone who passed by who smiled at me. I also nodded to anyone who caught my eye. And I took the lovely, pink flower from a little girl who dashed up and handed it to me, murmuring, “Shahsha, honey,” as I took it. She giggled and rushed back to her beaming mother.
It was after a dinner of roasted, spiced meat, more flat bread and potatoes cooked in onions that I took at the table in the tent when I decided what I was going to do.
And it was after my women – Jacanda (petite, chubby and seemingly outgoing), Packa (also petite, not chubby and somewhat shy), Gaal (tall, thin and quiet but not in a shy way, a careful, watchful one that made me slightly uneasy) and Beetus (tall, skinny, the youngest I was guessing, mostly because she looked it but was also extremely giggly in a way I almost, almost found infectious) – washed my face, slathered it with heavenly smelling stuff they gouged out of clay bowl, stuff that made my skin feel divine, took off my jewels and clothes and ran their fingers through my hair to pull out the gunked up twists. Then they helped me don an actual nightgown made of pale pink satin (no joke, a nightgown, it, like the robe, had slits up the side, thin straps, the skirt to the ankle, it fit snug at the boobs and h*ps but it, like the outfit I wore that day, was awesome). They tried to take my turquoise undies but I flatly refused and after a brief verbal tussle that made no sense to any of us, they gave in, murmured words that I took as goodnight and left me alone.
So I climbed in the bed, sat cross-legged in the middle of it, pulled the silk sheet up to my lap and waited for my warrior king to come home so I could carry forth my plan to get a few very important things straight.
Dynasty Online Game
And I waited.
Night had fallen and I was usually asleep by the time he returned so after I waited for awhile I figured I was in for a long one.
So I looked around the tent, having been in it for days, I was seeing it for the first time.
The bed was smack in the middle on a painted blue wooden platform that was probably one foot tall. There was a mattress, I knew, what it was made of, I didn’t know but it was thick, tall and soft. It was covered in heavy hides that were also soft, warm and comfy (the day was hot, the sun shone brightly, but when it dropped, it got cold). This was covered in a heavy, light blue silk sheet (which didn’t do much to ward off the cold, I had discovered, so it was lucky we slept on the fluffy hides). The pillows didn’t have cases, they were square or rectangular and, like the big cushions the girls had set outside for Diandra and me, they were silk, satin and brocade, no tassels or fringe and not in rich colors but in pastels.
Golden Dynasty Restaurant
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The Golden Dynasty, p.2
Kristen AshleySong Dynasty Golden Age
Well, that was a positive way to look at it.
Still.
“I just hope the warrior who chooses me is kind,” she said softly, her eyes were now peering at the sidelines from under her brows.
I did too.
“And I hope we can keep the Dax from seeing you,” she continued.
“Why do you keep saying that?” I asked.
“You are fair,” she replied. “You are the only fair woman in the parade. You stand out.”
Oh no.
“And you have great beauty,” she went on.
That was nice. Or it would have been nice at any other time in my life.
Not this one, obviously.
“Does he like blondes?” I asked and she shrugged.
“I do not know. What I do know is that they do not have any females who are fair in the Southlands, Korwahk or anywhere. You will stand out.”
She wasn’t wrong, glancing at the girls, I definitely stood out.
“Who is the Dax, anyway?” I asked, moving my gaze to the sidelines then back to the girls around us, some preening, smiling at the onlookers, nearly skipping with excitement. The few, like us, dragging their heels and moving forward warily.
“King Lahn,” she answered and I looked at her. “They do not use our language. In Korwahk, ‘king’ is ‘dax’,” she explained then shivered before going on. “He is a savage. Tales of his exploits have spread wide. Very cruel. Heartless.”
I didn’t have a good feeling about that either considering we were walking through a village of tents and torchlight, people wearing hides and wisps of material. I figured they were all relatively primitive. “Savage”, “cruel” and “heartless” upped that ante by quite a bit and were not a words I liked.
She looked forward and suddenly her manner became urgent, her hand slid from mine up to my forearm where she grasped it and pulled me closer even as we kept walking.
“We are about to enter the avenue of warriors, so you must listen,” she said swiftly, sounding just as urgent as she was acting and a thrill raced up my spine and it was not a good one. “The Wife Hunt is what its name says it is. The warriors of Korwahk are strong and fierce. They are respected. To be a warrior, you must train from a little boy and endure many trials. Only the most powerful men will be allowed into the Korwahk Horde. To give your life to this training and then go out on raids and make war with the Dax, you are promised riches, booty from pillaging and war and also participation in the Wife Hunt which offers you the opportunity to claim a great beauty as your bride.”
Okay, it was safe to say that things were not getting better.
Narinda continued. “As you can see, we are being paraded through the Daxshee, or the Dax’s village, his camp where he lives with his warriors. We will be paraded in front of his warriors. They will look us over, decide who to take as wife. Once the parade is finished, they will mount their horses while we are taken outside the Daxshee. There, we will be set free. And there, they will hunt us.”
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God!
“What?” I cried and she shook my forearm.
“Circe, quiet! Listen,” she hissed. “This is important.”
I was trembling and I was listening. Hard. So hard my ears hurt.
Narinda carried on. “They will hunt us and they will claim us.” Her fingers gripped my forearm and she pressed closer. “They will claim us like any husband claims his wife on their wedding night.”
Oh shit. Oh God. Oh shit. OhGodohshitohGod.
She kept at it. “They will bring us back to the village, naked and claimed.”
OhshitohGodohshit.
“And then the wedding rite will be held before the Dax.”
I didn’t want to know. I really didn’t
But I asked, “What’s that?”
“Settle, my lovely,” she said softly, hearing and reading my tone even over the loud beat of the drums. “It is whatever the warrior wants it to be. Mostly, they just present the Dax with their bride. Then there is dancing, drinking, eating and revelry.”
“Do we…” I swallowed, “do we get to put clothes on for this, uh… revelry?”
She nodded. “After presentation to their king, we will be clothed in clothing our warrior provides us.”
That was good.
But I wasn’t going to get to that part.
Not me. No way. I was going to run. I was going to hide. I was going to fight. I was going to do whatever I could do to get away, find out what in the fuck I was doing in this crazy, freaking place and get my ass home.
“I see you are frightened,” Narinda called my attention to her and my eyes snapped to hers.
“Well… yeah,” I bit out.
“Do not, Circe, listen to me now, do not do anything foolish,” she said quickly, her eyes again scanning the crowd, the lit space getting closer, I could see the urgency on her face.
“And foolish would be?”
“Do not fight the claiming. Don’t. It is their tradition. They don’t see anything wrong with it and look at the Korwahk women. Circe, look at them. They can’t wait.”
I looked at the Korwahk women. It was true. It was insane but it was true.
They obviously couldn’t wait.
Then Narinda went on to advise, “Take your warrior and endure the claiming and hope, hope, my lovely, with all your heart, that you get a warrior who is soft under all that hardness.”
I was trembling head-to-toe and I wanted to bolt. I wanted to run.
But it was too late.
We were entering the avenue of the warriors.
I knew this because the onlookers had disappeared. The only thing left were two lines on either side of us, shoulder to shoulder, of men wearing nothing but hide pants, their glistening, brown-skinned bodies painted. Some had painted white streaks in addition to black, not many, a few. More had red. About the same amount had a deep blue. Some had a combination of all of these colors. But there were some only painted in black even though those painted solely in black was nowhere near the majority.
And it was scary. They were scary. This was because they were huge. Not big, not tall, huge. They were all lean and muscled, not a little bit, a lot. Some had scars. Some had seriously nasty scars. All of them had black hair, all of it long and pulled back from their painted faces. All of them were wearing what looked like a long looped chain that was wound around their waists. All had massive swords in scabbards at slants on their backs and all had two knives in sheathes at either side of their waists.
They looked like warriors and they looked like savages.
The place was lit with tons of torches and some big fires. The drums were still beating, louder now, the sound pummeling my skin. I walked in front of the warriors and I became glad the Korwahk women wanted these men. I was glad because they also knew I would draw attention because I was blonde and they wanted that attention. Warrior eyes came to me but the minute they did, a Korwahk woman moved to get in front of me, catch their eyes. They leaned in to show their faces, leaned back to show their bodies, pressed their arms together to push out their breasts.
Thank God.
“Circe, close to me, duck your head without looking like you’re doing it. We approach the Dax,” Narinda warned under her breath but over the drums and I moved even closer to her and tried to duck my head without looking like I was ducking my head.
And come to the Dax we did. The drums were so loud they were all I could hear. Each beat felt like it was hammered against my body. And the Korwahk women around us became frenzied. They flooded the area to our left side and did everything to put themselves on display.
I leaned forward and peered through the undulating bodies trying to see but all I caught were scraps. Nevertheless, those scraps were not good.
A vast, wide dais, some ten steps up. On it what looked like a huge throne made almost entirely out of colossal, black, curling horns that shot up and rounded in an array at the back, the same
for the armrests and seat. The feet, though, looked like elephant feet.
Um… not nice.
Behind the dais there was what looked like a stream of fire that danced the length, illuminating it. To either side of the throne, massive fire pits then huge drums that were at least the height of two grown men and the men banging the drums had to run toward it and hurl their mallet with the flying weight of their whole body, drop to their feet, run away and then run back again. They were glistening with sweat for their efforts.
That was all I caught. No man was sitting on the throne. There was no one there.
No one.
Until I saw him.
Standing at one side and up toward the edge of the dais looking down was a giant of a man. A beast of a man. Taller than any of the extremely tall warriors on the sides of the parade, broader, more muscled, more savage.
He was looking down the dais not at the parade but at a man in robes who was gesturing up to him. His strapping arms were crossed on his brawny chest, his chest and face painted in streaks of black, one going clean across his eyes. He wore no other colors.
And he appeared bored.
That was all I saw before frenzied Korwahk girls, calling out in their strange language, closed in front of me, jumping up and down like they were at their favorite boy band concert.
“He doesn’t intend to take a wife this Hunt, thank the Gods,” Narinda breathed at my side and her relief was so great, it communicated itself to me. I relaxed and she moved us forward hurriedly but I could tell she was trying to make it not look hurried.
Then I did something stupid. I don’t know why I did, but I did.
When we were passed the dais and the girls started to circle me again to deflect the attention the warriors were giving me, I looked back at the savage Korwahk king.
And when I did, I looked right into his dark, painted eyes.
Oh fuck!
I twisted back around swiftly and sucked in breath.
“Circe?” Narinda called, hearing my breath even over the drums.
“He saw me,” I whispered.
“What?” she asked.
“He saw me!” I cried. “The Dax!”
Her eyes got big and she cried in return, “Oh no!”
I shut my eyes tight.
“All right, all right, my lovely, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he –” she tried, clutching my arm.
“He did,” I whispered as we moved beyond the avenue of warriors into another sea of onlookers.
She gripped my arm. “Maybe he didn’t.”
I nodded. “Maybe he didn’t,” I said softly.
But he did.
Chapter Two
The Claiming
One warrior slashed out with his enormous sword cutting open the warrior who had chained himself to my necklace, the warm spurt of blood splashed across my front, I screamed and jumped away as the warrior attached to me dropped, lifeless, to the ground.
Narinda had not told me about the Hunt. She had not told me that the warriors would fight each other for their brides. You could hear the grunts of men everywhere, the clash of steel, the howls of pain, the roars of victory.
You could also hear the cries of women, most were in surprise, some fear, some distress, some were in ecstasy mingled with the groans of men finding sexual release.
All of it coming at me from all directions in the dark night.
It was a nightmare. It was a nightmare’s nightmare.
This was the third time I’d been caught, tackled to the hard ground by a warrior who threw himself off a horse to do it. He then took the end of the chain around his waist and hooked it to my necklace and then he started wrestling me, fights I knew I’d lose because all of them were inhumanly strong and stinking men, I might add, so already stronger than me. Then they’d be challenged by another warrior (once two). Then they’d battle, sword against sword, knife against knife, fists against flesh and the only thing I had to be thankful for was that the chain was long and every warrior who hooked it to me shoved me well out of the fray.
The others had given up, though, by batting the victorious warrior on the head seeming not all that bothered then they unchained my chain, remounted their steed and took off into the night.
This warrior had killed the man chained to me.
I backed up, trying to drag the massive, inert warrior I was attached to with me as the new warrior stalked toward me, his eyes intense, his body scarred more than most, his face, even only lit by the moonlight and the faraway torchlight of the Daxshee, ferocious and mean. I knew instantly, as I panted and yanked at my chain, dragging the motionless warrior with me as the new one prowled toward me, that although I didn’t want any of them, this one I really didn’t want.
Then he tossed his sword to the side and rushed me. Before I could get my feet to turn my body, his heavy weight was flying through the air. It hit me and I went down to my back, the wind knocked out of me, his weight now on top of me.
I struggled for breath and thrashed beneath him as he unhooked the chain at my neck and hooked his own, completely immune to my flailing.
Once he had his chain connected to me, his head turned to me. I stilled a second at the cruelty easily read in his eyes, his hand went between us, he shoved one of my legs aside and I shrieked in his face, bucked with everything I had, by some miracle he went up and I pushed him over, scuttled from under the rest of his body, made it to my feet, my hands going to the chain at my neck to try and unhook it and I ran.
I got four steps before my chain was yanked viciously. I flew back and landed hard and painfully, ass to stone.
Whipping around on my behind, one of my hands going to the hook at my necklace and fumbling with it, the other going to the chain to hold on and give myself some slack as he yanked it again, pain piercing through my neck where the necklace dug in and my bottom was dragged across the rock toward him.
God, he was reeling me in like an animal.
What the fuck did I do to get transported to this hellhole?
“No!” I shrieked, tugging hard at the chain and then we both heard hoof beats.
My head turned, my heart clenched, my stomach dropped and I stared at the Dax astride a huge, dark-colored horse bearing down on us.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
The warrior chained to me roared in fury, pulled out both knives from the sheathes at his waist, took a battle stance but the horse kept coming, it came fast, so very, flipping fast and the rider clearly wasn’t going to dismount.
He didn’t.
At the last instant, his muscular arm came up, he tore the sword out of the scabbard across his back and with a almighty downward strike, the second his horse jumped the chain connecting me to the warrior, with a spark and hiss of steel against steel, the chain was severed and I flew back, again, on my fucking ass.
The other warrior again roared his fury, this time, if it was possible, it was clear his fury was seriously furious as the Dax instantly rounded his horse in a tight circle and charged the standing warrior.
Oh shit.
Forget this crap. I was out of there.
I got to my feet and I freaking ran.
I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea where I was. I had no idea what was out there. And I didn’t care.
I just headed away from the lights of the Daxshee into the bright, moonlit stone and dark brush of what appeared to be mostly wasteland around it.
I had no plan. I had nothing on my mind.
Except escape.
My side hurt. My feet hurt. My neck hurt. My ass hurt. I needed a fucking bra. But I didn’t care. I just ran.
And ran.
And freaking ran.
Then I heard the hoof beats behind me, steady, fast, pounding into the rock and I knew the Dax had triumphed against scary, huge, cruel warrior.
I didn’t have to look.
The Dax was coming after me.
I knew it.
I ran faster, sprinting, the pain in my side agonizin
g but I kept going as fast as I could.
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 still running horse and prepared, instead of running for my life, to fight for it.
He had an arm around me, the other hand dropped the reins and he went for the chain at his waist.
I lifted my hands, nails bared, and went for his eyes.
I caught the flash of the surprise that slashed across his dark, painted features before he abandoned the chain and his hold on my waist, he reared back and caught my wrists before my nails reached their target.
I took that opportunity to slide off the slowing horse.
Doing this, he was forced to let go or come down with me. I hit feet first, pain shooting through my ankles and up my calves and I dropped because of it, rolled, found my feet again and started to run.
The horse came back at me but this time, I was prepared. When I glanced back and saw him this close, I ducked under his arm. Him and his horse shot passed me and I instantly changed directions and ran the other way.
I seemed to be making some headway and I heard no horse but was stopped when a steely arm wrapped around my waist, lifted me off my feet and whirled me around.
Shit, he was off his horse. And shit again, he could run without sound.
I bucked violently then kicked my feet out even more violently. His arm loosened, my feet hit stone and I tried to run but he caught me up again. I whirled in his hold and lunged in the small space, bracing against a foot I planted behind me, I shoved with all my weight.
His torso rocked back, his arm loosened again, I took three quick, giant steps back then he lunged. There was more of him than me and it was more powerful. He tackled me and I landed on my back, him on top of me.