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The ride back to the Dawn Throne had been spent in sullen silence, Daidukul could tell when Magnai was in dark mood, and the words of the Miqo’te woman would weigh on his shoulders for entire moons. Mayhap if that demoness had not heard them he’d bounce right back again as normal, but Sadu’s delight upon hearing someone else mock the Sun had left Magnai licking wounds both physical and mental. Things didn’t seem too off when they left their respective Yol with the caretakers, except Magnai didn’t give his the usual affectionate pats. Not even when it tried to nuzzle his hand before he turned to leave.
So it was to be that kind of mood then, very well. He’d learned how to weather the Sun’s raging temper without getting burned. This was one more rejection to add to the pile, and the Buduga khan refused to believe it would change a thing. “Tell me Daidukul, am I that undesirable to women? Will my true Nhaama never come to me?”
“I would not presume to know what a woman desires, Magnai. Just because I prefer men doesn’t mean I think like a woman. We’ve had this talk before.” He danced around the point of the question, if things went the way he’d wanted, Magnai would have read the emotion in his eyes. Understood the meaning of the gazes that he’d thrown the Oronir’s way. If Magnai would only allow himself to open up to the possibility, their alliance would mean so much more. It was folly to think his feelings would ever be returned, but if given the chance he’d gladly worship the Sun in all his glory.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“You don’t want to hear my thoughts on the matter, after all, your Nhaama is to be a woman of undeniable grace. You know better than anyone what you’re looking for, Magnai.”
“You’re being dismissive, Daidukul.”
“I’m being blunt.” He couldn’t help the snort that came out, trying his hardest not to sound short with the other man. Magnai was set in his ways, he wanted a delicate bride, not a fellow groom.
“Fine then. Tell me your truth. Here, in confidence.” His arms crossed over his chest, tilting his head up as if trying to stare down the other Khan. The Sun was in the mood to challenge, anything to regain his lost dignity. “Let me hear what you have to say.”
“You want to hear it? Fine.” This was folly, but Daidukul swept his pale hair out of his face to fix both eyes on Magnai. “I believe you’re chasing a shade. Who you want does not exist, not as you see them. Tell me, Magnai, am I not graceful when I dance about the battlefield at your side? Am I not the person who helps dress your wounds and talk you up when a rejection has you down? I see Azim in your eyes, do you no longer look me in the eyes out of fear of what you see? Even now you avoid my gaze. Your eyes are fixed on my brow, not mine own. What are you afraid to see in them?”
The truth was a bitter pill indeed, and the Oronir khan wasn’t sure he’d been ready to hear it. Their alliance was supposed to be a joining of strength alone, even if he’d known Daidukul before they both became leaders of their own respective tribes. “You think you are my Nhaama? Daidukul...” It was true, he saw something in the other’s eyes that made him pause every time. A spark, a glow. The only thing that kept him from acknowledging it was his own ideal image of what a Nhaama should be. His Nhaama couldn’t be another man, that wasn’t how it worked.
“I’ll be in my tent, Magnai. Alone.” For once, the Buduga khan was prone to taking men to his bedroll, he was free with his body knowing his heart was fixated on someone who’d never return his desire. “If you need me, come get me.” It took all his strength to keep his voice even and unwavering. This was just another rejection, for both of them. He’d never have the Sun’s warmth, just as his Sun would keep chasing a figment of a Moon’s love.
It was only after Daidukul was out of earshot that Magnai remembered how to say “Wait.” A single hand with golden claws reaching out in a vain attempt to pull his friend back, then curling into a fist as he finished processing the words from Daidukul’s lips. Of course Daidukul saw Azim in him. When they were both young he’d found the older Au ra struggling in the Mettle, he’d claimed injuries had kept him from taking the test sooner. True enough, the back of his legs carried scars that looked crippling.
They finished the test together, and the elder had told him to wait before leaving. True enough there was a Buduga trap, lying in wait to take any male youths who passed the test into their own tribe. He heard Daidukul tell them that he’d finished alone. He lied for Magnai, and said he hadn’t met anyone in the sacred grounds. They left on Daidukul’s word so Magnai could head back to the Oronir unmolested. Why else would the Buduga protect him from his own tribe if not out of some sort of affection?
He could ignore it, walk back to his own bedroll and sleep alone tonight. Come morning nothing would have changed, Daidukul would still desire him and he could continue on his search for a Nhaama as if everything he was looking for wasn’t standing next to his throne in a man’s body. Really, that was the only thing stopping him. Daidukul was male. That was it. If the other khan was a woman he’d have taken her to be his bride years ago. It wasn’t even that he was unattractive. Azim knew he flaunted his body, bare chest, a sash over his hips in place of pants, no Daidukul was attractive and he damn well knew it.
At least he thought Daidukul was attractive. Skin like the night sky, a mirthful smile that had earned him his title, and those eyes…
Those piercing eyes always saw right through him.
Currently they were kind, Daidukul had intended to go right to bed, instead he was helping a young brother string his bow. “See? Wind it just like this, tight enough to be able to play a note off it.” He hums and plucks the bowstring gently, the boy sitting on his knee and helping keep his mind off Magnai’s blindness. A tribe of all men meant that no task was seen as “womanly”. Cooking, cleaning, caring for the children; every Buduga brother had their part. “Now run along and try again, don’t pull the string back too tight. You don’t want it to snap again do you? Deep breath, aim, and...” He allowed the boy to find his own rhythm with the bow, and shared his delight when he hit the target’s outermost rim. “Yes! Just like that! Keep practicing, Bayam, you’ll be a master marksman in no time.”
He couldn’t be cold and aloof around the young brothers, they needed guidance. Each had lost family to join their tribe, and his own memories of it were traumatic to say the least. They needed a strong and kind guide, they were the tribe’s future. So he made his way back to his tent slowly.
Slowly enough that Magnai had beat him there.
He found the Sun sitting cross-legged beside his bedroll, “Magnai?”
“Not another word, Daidukul. I have a question for you.” He stood with fluid grace, standing to take his friend and ally’s hands into his own. For the first time in months he stared into Daidukul’s eyes, finding exactly what he’d been afraid to see. “Of course…”
The elder Xaela tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Daidukul, do you truly see Azim in my eyes? Are you my Nhaama?” After everything they’d spoken of, laughter was not the sound he’d been expecting to hear pass Daidukul’s lips. “What’s so funny?”
“That you even have to ask. I told you once before, I see Azim in you, Magnai. I meant it. Stay awhile, my Sun. Let me show you my devotion.”