Chapter 10, Knife's Edge
Nateri decided it was best if she left Richard alone and turned to go.
"Did he do that to you?" He asked painfully.
She turned back around and saw the anguish in his eyes. "Did he do what?"
Richard gestured with his chin to the mark upon her neck. Fear for Kahlan rising up again in his throat. He knew he probably didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask.
To Nateri, the mark was something of a source of pride. She nodded slightly. "He does not believe it is right to give a woman his seed without her permission. Only if she agrees will she bear his mark. It's a way of letting others know she may carry the child of the Khal."
Richard remembered all of the women at the feast, the Khal's concubines…none of the them had the mark. He asked Nateri about them and if it was because she was the only one worthy to have his child.
She shook her head. "They all bore the mark…but they are slave girls. They bear it on their backs."
Richard felt suddenly hotter than the desert sun, the taste of bile thick in his throat. He wavered on his feet a moment before losing the battle, collapsing down to the dirt.
Nateri decided it was best to leave him alone and she turned to go. But something stopped her and she turned back. "You think we are savages and perhaps to you, we are. But the Khal is a just and spiritual man. The mark I bear is proof of that."
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Kahlan focused her attention on the nearest thing – the corded muscles of Khal Drogo's neck, his golden skin shimmering with sweat in the candlelight. He had soon tired of sitting and, grunting in frustration, pushed her onto her back.
Now his massive frame moved over her and as the fragrant scent of sweet woods filled the tent, he once more began his incantation: "Ma hya konno lu-achee." Slow and even he moved in her, the strength and weight of him rolling her hips, easing deeper with every stroke. Kahlan could smell the clove and cinnamon of the oil on his skin. "Ma hya konno lu-achee." The air grew chokingly hot as the Ba'Jindi drums thrummed in her ears. "Ma hya konno lu-achee." His sensual grind sent a wave of heat rushing through her and a tortured gasp ripped from her throat – one tinged with fear at her unexpected pleasure. Was she so weak? Did she not have enough resolve to withstand temptations of the flesh? His hot breath brushed against her ear, "Ma hya konno lu-achee."
To her horror, Kahlan slowly started to move with him, gently raising her hips to meet his downward strokes, all the while he chanted over her, "Ma hya knono lu-achee."
Dear spirits, what was she doing?
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Kahlan quickly realized this exchange for Richard's life was rapidly escalating out of her control. Far more spiritual than savage, it was not at all what she had expected. Drogo's gentleness was hardly barbaric and, quite astonishingly, rather the opposite.
In the distance, Ba'Jindi drums beat their provocative song with the Khal keeping rhythm. Kahlan watched the flames of candles flicker and dance in his wake, the fur of the hides beneath them brushing soft against her skin. Sweat beaded on her brow. She told herself it was the heat of the fire – she couldn't possibly find any of this pleasing – but the sting of tears told the truth. And even as her eyes filled with the pain and guilt of self loathing, she gripped tighter to his muscled shoulders, sweaty and hard. Kahlan licked at her parched lips and arched back, cursing her body for its betrayal.
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Lost in a haze, Kahlan had no idea how long she'd been under him but several candles had spent their wicks. Sweat covered her body, her skin burning like flame from the oil, its scent filling the air; the taste of juniper sweet on her tongue.
The sacred fire hissed. The drums grew louder: Faster. Harder. So did Kahlan's breath. Copper skin flexed and rippled over milky smooth as the Khal feverishly tried to keep pace with the quickening drums, but the Ba'Jindi played recklessly. Kahlan arched wildly, rolling up onto her shoulders, straining to relieve the insatiable burn.
Intent on keeping with the drums, Khal Drogo slid his massive arms under her, lifting her clear off the bedding, growling as he took her: The tempest had arrived.
Kahlan was suddenly desperate for it to stop, fear and reason cautioning her of his intensifying storm. However weak her flesh, she did not want to bear this man's child. She begged the good spirits to at least spare her that. But the Khal hung over her, surrounding her in muscle and man. He was slick with the oil from her body, drenching the air in the scent of spices. Besieged with heat and sweat, aromas and sounds, Kahlan's senses swirled out of control; her mind adrift in a muddled fog as everything crashed in on her in seductive fervor.
Even as she silently pleaded for this to at last be over, she heard the unmistakable groans of pleasure and realized they were her own.
Khal Drogo's pant came thick, almost mocking, in her ear. "Tell me, do I stop now Kasha?"
xx
Richard's jaw ached from clenching; his nostrils flaring with every breath. All night long the incessant beat of the drums droned in his ears. He swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that kept threatening to choke him.
This was all his fault. He had been the one to bring her here, the one who wanted to explore. How would he ever look her in the eye again, knowing he had been unable to protect her…knowing it was because of him she suffered at the hands of a savage. He pleaded to the Creator for his wife's forgiveness. Twisting in his shackles, further tearing raw his flesh, Richard seethed against his chains, growling in rage, screaming at the moon with the futility of it all.
Weeping openly, he at last fell to his knees, exhausted and spent with emotion.
xx
Kahlan stood beneath a star filled sky, the first hints of dawn barely touching the horizon. Dressed only in a blanket she'd slipped over her shoulders, she held it closed against the buffeting winds. The sky was draped in magnificent shades of violets and grays, creating a glorious splendor beside the shine of the moon and the stars, their brilliance just beginning to fade with the start of a new day.
But she paid no heed to the grandeur laid out before her, lost in a blank stare as she drowned in her grief, the Khal's words coming back to haunt her…"Tell me, do I stop now Kasha?"
Kahlan had felt herself balancing on the edge of a knife. Something much bigger than a few moments of pleasure was at stake. It was impossible to her that she hadn't already demanded he stop. And yet, as he moved in her, his big hands gripping tight to her body, she found herself teetering in the balance. She had tried desperately to say what with all her heart she had wanted to say – what she knew to be right and true, but as she opened her mouth to speak, her betrayal was complete: "No" she whispered shamefully, digging her fingers into his flesh.
Even as the word came out of her mouth she was filled with disgust and self loathing, repulsed at her reply. But the Khal was relentless in claiming victory, knowing she had found pleasure in him. He ground into her with a new intensity, leaving her utterly defeated. With his manhood driving into her, chanting the prayer she couldn't understand, his body at last went rigid, filling her with the heat of his release.
xx
What had she done? How would Richard ever forgive her? How could he ever want her again? She wanted to die. In the darkness of the tent, Kahlan had buried her face in her hands sobbing uncontrollably. She wished desperately the earth would open up and swallow her whole, dragging her to the deepest depths of the Underworld, where she belonged. She cried for what seemed an eternity until she had none left to weep.
Exhausted, she had wrapped herself in a blanket and headed outside.
xx
Kahlan finally took notice of the twinkling stars in the slowly brightening sky…she'd never seen so many stars in her life. How could something be so grand, so beautiful, when she felt so hideous? The stiff wind lifted her hair, tugging loose strands from under the edge of the blanket. It felt wonderful against her skin: Cool and clean. Unlike her. She'd never felt dirtier in her life.
She felt utterly dead inside, thinking of all that had happened. Richard was the love of her life. When she had agreed to give herself over to save him she never dreamed she would find pleasure in it. Kahlan turned suddenly, retching in the dirt at her infidelity. She fell to her knees choking for breath, heaving though she had nothing left to give.
How would she ever face him again?
After a long while wiped her mouth and stood, letting the blanket fall open to the wind, the sturdy breeze washing over her naked body, allowing the coolness to bring a cleansing relief. She raised her arms high, holding the blanket like a giant sail behind her, letting it twist and snap as it billowed in the wind.
Her mind drifted back to the tent…
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Khal Drogo had not lingered and for that she was grateful, rolling off of her only moments after his climax. She had lain beside him weeping, disgusted with her very being. She could argue all she wanted that she did it to save Richard's life, but her heaving chest was undeniable proof of the pleasure she'd found in it. Worse, the Khal had given her a choice: He had asked if he should stop…and she had said no. She wanted to die.
How could she do that to Richard? The man she loved more than life. The Khal had brought out something primitive in her, but with Richard she shared love. She shared herself. Her soul was connected to his in a way that made it hard to breathe when he wasn't near. She miserably wondered what would destroy her beloved most of all – if she became pregnant with another man's seed, or learning she had found pleasure in taking it. She let out a sob filled with crushing guilt, anguish weighing so heavy on her heart she couldn't breathe.
Kahlan felt a sudden chill and brought the blanket back around, lightly touching fingers to the fresh wound on her neck, the memory of it flaring in her mind. She had been so immersed in the act of her treachery she'd barely noticed when Khal Drogo leaned in with a growl, tearing at the flesh of her neck, marking her with his teeth.
Her eyes drifted once more over the vast landscape, knowing Richard was out there somewhere. "Dear spirits," she whispered, "please don't let him see what I've become."
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