Before I knew it, me and all my heavy gold were swooped up in a powerful arm and planted on the horse. The second my ass hit the horse, the Dax swung up behind me.

But we didn’t move and one of the women rushed forward. She took one of my ankles in her hand, pushed up and made as if to swing my leg around the beast’s neck.

She was telling me I was meant to ride straddling, not as I had been, side saddle.

I didn’t demur. I didn’t have it in me to demur. Any demurring was left on a stone some ways back. So I swung my leg around. She nodded in approval, smiled at me and started to step back, bowing.

The Dax made a noise of tongue against teeth and the horse moved forward even before the woman fully cleared the animal.

Okay, so, the bad news was, I was in another world, I had no idea how I got there and that other world was absolutely no way a place I wanted to be. I’d been paraded before warriors and hunted. I watched a man die for me, a man who did not even know me. I’d been pursued through a wasteland and forced to receive the attentions of a savage king. Then I’d endured the humiliating ride back wearing nothing but a necklace, chained to a brute. I had no way of knowing when this would end, if it would end and if I would ever get back home.

But, at least I wasn’t going to be paraded through a primitive village naked. The gold was heavy, the chain links weren’t exactly the finest silk, the whole ensemble didn’t entirely cover me.

But I decided I’d look on that as the good news.

People started flooding toward us as the horse became visible outside the Daxshee and the Dax changed our positions on the horse. This change was minute but significant. His arm around my waist slid up so the swells of my br**sts rested on it and it tightened so I was held snug to his big body. This said I was not a bundle to be delivered safely. This was more intimate. This said I was claimed.

Then his mouth came to my ear and he said the first words since he took me.

I didn’t understand a one of them but I recognized the last one and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t forget it. The last word he said in his deep, scary, rough voice was a forceful, “Lahnahsahna.”

Okay, whatever the hell that meant, it meant something to him. Therefore, I needed to find out what it meant. And I was figuring I needed to find that out fast.

With the old-fashioned attired men holding back but their eyes still on us, his native people rushed the horse, took one look at me in my golden outfit and started cheering, smiling, laughing, jumping in joy, holding their hands up and waving them, some of them chanting as we rode through them. Then flowers were thrown, just petals but the deeper we got into the Daxshee, the more people there were, the more petals drifted around us until they were all I could see.

It sucked but I had to admit their softness felt nice floating and gliding against my hot, scraped, aching flesh. And, if this was a joyous occasion, like a real wedding of people uniting in love (which it was not) those light petals drifting through the torchlit night would be beautiful.

The Dax said not a word as he rode through the crowd and his horse didn’t miss a beat but kept his slow, steady walk through the throng.

The people and their petal throwing stopped when we reached the dais area. They hung back but their cheers and chants carried on as the horse took us to the center of a wide semi-circle of stone that bowed out from the dais. This semi-circle was created by warriors astride horses, their claimed women in front of them on the horse, straddling it, wearing nothing but their necklaces with the warrior’s chain hooked to it.

At this, I was realizing it might be good to be queen.

None of them, including, I looked and found Narinda, had a stitch of clothing on.

When I caught her eyes, I tipped my head to the side and gave her what I knew had to be a small, weird smile.

Her face grew soft and she returned it.

Then I looked at the other warriors and their women. Some women looked thrilled beyond belief. Some looked disappointed. Some looked frightened (and these were even the native women, apparently having men fight to the death for you then being raped in a barren wasteland was not all it was cracked up to be).

The Dax stopped us at the foot of the steps to the dais and didn’t hesitate in dismounting or pulling me off the horse.

I tried (and failed) not to think of my ass cheeks showing as he took my hand and walked up the dais toward the thrones at the top.

Yes, thrones.

Now there were two of them. The massive black one was now accompanied by another, smaller one. The same style but the horns were white and the feet were not elephant feet but some other animal’s feet. Maybe deer. Maybe gazelles.

Serious gross.

The black throne had no pad, as it had none before and obviously this was meant to show that seasoned, badass warriors didn’t need sissy things like cushions for their asses. But the white throne had a fluffy, gold silk covered pad on the seat and another one on its end resting against the back.

Okay, more good news. I got pads. I could use pads. My ass was freaking killing me.

We made it to the top and he turned us to the crowd. I could see beyond the large, wide arc of what had to be at least a hundred warriors, it could actually be more, their brides and their horses, the crowd had closed in.

The Dax stood there, holding my hand, his eyes moving over the gathering. Someone had taken his horse away so at the immediate bottom of the dais there was nothing but a vast open space, torchlight dancing on the smooth, cream stone.

He did not speak; he just surveyed the crowd with his frightening, painted eyes. They did not cheer or chant; they just stayed silent and watched us.

This, by the way, was not fun but I’d had less fun that night so I just took it and stood there.

Then he started shouting, so suddenly, my body jerked. I had no clue what he was saying but whatever it was, he meant it, like, a lot. And this was proved to be true when, twice, he banged his mighty fist on his muscled, painted chest.

He shouted for awhile then suddenly he tugged my hand, bent as my body fell into his, his other arm tagged me behind the knees, he let my hand go, his arm going around my waist, he swung me up with such force, my legs went flying and my arms automatically circled his neck so I wouldn’t be sent soaring through the air and he roared, “Kah Lahnahsahna!”

A deafening cheer tore through the crowd, so fierce; the wall of sound hit me like a physical thing.

But he didn’t bask in whatever glory he was receiving. He turned toward the chairs and when he did, my eyes tipped to his just as his bearded chin (he had a full, black beard, it was long at the chin and held at the point with a gold band) and his eyes locked with mine.