Ildiko eyes rounded. Anhuset didn’t step back. Her eyes shone bright, even in the afternoon light. Quick as a striking snake, she cupped Serovek between his legs and pushed upward. He inhaled a sharp breath and went up on his toes, gaze drifting slowly down to where her claws caged his genitals.
Her wide, pointy grin guaranteed most human males would piss themselves at the sight. “You wouldn’t survive me, horse lord.”
Serovek wasn’t most human males. After the first shock of surprise wore off, he relaxed into her palm and quirked a smile. “But I would die happy, and you’d regret killing me.”
Her mouth slackened, and for a moment, her hand glided down the front of Serovek’s trousers and back up again in a slow stroke before she snatched it away. Her low growl vibrated with outrage, and she stalked off without another word.
Serovek wasn’t as unruffled as he wanted to appear. His knees sagged for a moment, and he wiped his brow with his forearm before focusing on Ildiko.
She crossed her arms and shook her head. “You risk more than your family line by teasing her like that.”
He clasped a hand to his chest and blew out a gusty breath. “I can’t help it. She is magnificent. And prickly.”
Ildiko grinned. “Brishen should be here soon to see you off.” Her features turned pink for a moment, a sure sign she remember the earlier hours in their bed. “I’m guessing he’s trying to claw his way out of the net his vicegerents and the local gentry have cast over him.”
She didn’t exaggerate. Once he left the safety of his chamber, those honorable folks had descended on him like flies on meat.
Serovek reached for her hand and bowed and this time his forehead, not his lips, grazed her knuckles. He straightened, and for a moment his gaze went directly to where Brishen lurked in the stall’s shadows. He shifted his attention back to Ildiko. “I’ll return in two days. Take care of each other, Ildiko,” he urged. “You are each the other’s greatest strength in these troubled days.”
Brishen stepped from the shadows to wish his friend and fellow Wraith King farewell.
CHAPTER NINE
Kirgipa chewed listlessly on a bite of road rations. Her stomach rumbled in protest at the hunger pains, but she had little appetite. The journey to Saggara was wearing on her. Fear for the sister she’d left behind, the endless slogging through the cold Absu just as they dried off from a previous wade into the water, and the crawling sense of constantly being watched (and coveted) by the galla that tracked them—it all sapped her of energy.
Necos and Dendarah walked beside her, the latter with the baby nestled in her arms. Neither seemed affected by the long hours of travel or the cold or the damp. She supposed such stamina shouldn’t surprise her. These were royal guards, chosen not only for their staunch loyalty to the royal family but for their prowess and toughness. She, on the other hand, had trained as a servant. The role required certain skill set of their own, but slogging through rivers and forests wasn’t one of them.
“Not much further, Kirgipa.” Necos slowed his steps to match her and gave her an encouraging smile.
She didn’t return it. “You said that yesterday, and it feels no closer.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired of being wet and cold and blinded by the sun.” And worried for her sister.
“You’re not alone in that.” He thrust his chin in the direction that Saggara lay. “Try not to think about what’s left to travel and think about the leagues we’ve already covered.”
“Still alive,” Dendarah added.
Kirgipa wasn’t much in the mood to embrace their optimism, but brooding over their current circumstances wouldn’t make them any pleasanter. he jumped when Necos suddenly grasped her arm and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Dendarah had also stilled, both staring ahead at something Kirgipa couldn’t see. Her heart galloped from her chest into her throat. Oh gods. Had the galla somehow found a way to cross the Absu?
A pair of bedraggled Kai, man and woman, emerged from the trees. Neither Necos nor Dendarah called a greeting. Dendarah passed the baby to Kirgipa before taking up a protective stance in front of her. Necos did the same, the two a living wall between Kirgipa and the newcomers.
The couple paused, and the woman raised a hand. “A fair day to you, friends.”
Necos inclined his head. “A fair day.” His voice lacked inflection, neither friendly nor hostile, and his shoulders remained stiff. Kirgipa peered around him for a better view at the unexpected travelers. They were the first they had come across since leaving the main body of Kai days before, and they came from the opposite direction, ahead of the path on which Kirgipa and her company journeyed.
The man accompanying the woman was odd. A blank expression set in a haggard face and yellow eyes that looked through those who watched him. The woman tugged on his arm, drawing him up beside her as if he were a young child guided by his mother.
She patted him on the shoulder before addressing Necos and Dendarah. “This is my brother Sofiris. I’m Nareed. We were hunting when demons attacked. They killed my sister-in-law. My brother and I barely made it to the river. We’re traveling to Haradis to warn them.”
Kirgipa’s two guards didn’t ease their protective stances, but Necos’s rigid shoulders loosened. “They already know. The galla attacked there first. Those who survived are traveling this way, to Saggara, for sanctuary.”
Nareed’s skin paled to a gray the same shade as the winter sky. “Our father lives in Haradis,” she said in a thin voice. She tugged on her brother’s arm. “Did you hear that? We can either wait here or continue our journey and meet up with the those coming from Haradis. Yeta might be among them.”
Sofiris stared into space, his blank expression unchanging. Kirgipa was tempted to offer a comforting hand when Nareed faced them, stricken. “He saw the galla kill his wife.” Her breath stuttered past her lips. “If they corner us, I will kill him and myself before they take us. I don’t want to die the way Iset did.”
Necos and Dendarah exchanged weighted gazes before Necos shrugged off the pack he carried and dropped to his haunches. “Here’s as good a place as any to stop and eat.” He hefted the sharpened stick he carried, a makeshift spear he used to catch the fish swimming the Absu. “You’re welcome to rest and share the catch with us.”
Nareed accepted the invitation and settled her brother opposite Kirgipa and Dendarah. While Dendarah built a small cooking fire and spit rack, Nareed joined Necos in the river’s shallows, bow and arrows in hand. In no time they had caught enough to feed everyone with scraps left over.
Sofiris ate automatically, placing bits of fish into his mouth as Nareed dropped them into his hand and coaxed his hand toward his lips. She wiped her fingers on her trousers, gaze resting first on Dendarah, then Kirgipa and the baby before settling on Necos. “You travel with your wife and daughter?”
He nodded. “My sister also.” He gestured to Dendarah who passed a flask to Nareed. “We decided we’d cover ground faster to Saggara if we left the larger crowd.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” Nareed argued.
“Not where galla are concerned. That much blood and magic concentrated in one spot? They’re drawn to the Kai like moths to a bonfire.”
He was saved from further conversation when Sofiris choked on the piece of fish he was chewing. Nareed thumped him hard on the back, and he spit the partially chewed mush into his lap. He didn’t wipe it away or scrub his lips, simply stared into the distance.
His sister sighed and stroked his hair. “Come, brother,” she coaxed gently. “Let’s go to the river and clean you up.”
Kirgipa watched them leave. “How sad. His wife’s death has destroyed him.”
“Grief can do that to some,” Dendarah replied, breaking sticks into smaller kindling to feed the fire. She peeled off her boots and stretched her feet toward the flame. “You two might want to do the same,” she said. “Or you’ll have foot rot in no time.”
Kirgipa followed her lead, sighi
ng as the fire’s warmth caressed her toes. Necos didn’t move, his gaze steady on the pair by the shore. “Do you think they believed we’re a family?”
He shrugged. “No reason why they shouldn’t. Keep up the pretense. This baby isn’t safe until we deliver her to her uncle.”
“Vengeance again?” The idea infuriated Kirgipa. The person responsible for this disaster was dead from her own folly. Killing off her innocent relatives wasn’t going to get rid of the galla.
This time Dendarah answered. “There are some families who would benefit if the House of Khaskem died out completely. It’s a lot easier to assassinate an infant than a seasoned warrior like Brishen Khaskem.”
Kirgipa bounced her knees up and down, joggling the baby in her lap. The infant giggled and waved her arms in the air. She was a good traveler, a lot better and less whining than many adults Kirgipa knew. “How many more nights to Saggara?”
“Three, maybe four.” Dendarah reached out and stroked the baby’s soft hair. “Once we get there, we’ll have to find a way to reach the herceges without shouting to everyone within hearing distance that we have the Queen Regnant.”
“That’s easy.” Kirgipa said, happy to contribute something useful to their trio other than baby-carrying and nappy-changing. “I served the human hercegesé when she was in Haradis for a short time. She took a Kai servant with her when she left for Saggara. I trained with Sinhue. She’ll take us to the hercegesé or the herceges.
“I’ve also trained with sha-Anhuset in the past,” Necos said, gaze still locked on the brother and sister. “That might help us. I’ll just be happy to get there. I’m sick of traveling with the galla attached to us like ticks on a...” He stopped abruptly and stood.
Puzzled by his sudden action, Kirgipa followed the path of his stare. The flitting shadows lurking in the trees across the Absu slithered toward the shore. They gathered together, congealing into an oily black mass that shifted into the vague shape of a woman.
For the first time since they’d met them on the path, Sofiris reacted. He spun toward the galla, his eyes no longer vacant and far-seeing. The sinister shape solidified even more. Still featureless, it formed long hair that floated in the breeze like waterweed and raised slender arms, reaching out to the brother and sister as if to embrace them.
Gibberish spilled in an eerie voice from an unformed face. Kirgipa recoiled, skin crawling at the hungry, yearning tone. Nareed screamed when Sofiris suddenly lunged into the river, crying out above the water’s roar.
“I’m coming, Iset! I’m coming!”
“Holy gods,” Necos said before bolting to the shore’s edge. He plunged into the Absu, Nareed close behind him. Water churned as they swam frantically toward Sofiris and the galla waiting for him. The womanly shape lost some of its curves, sliding out of form into shapeless darkness before forcing itself back into the silhouette that lured a man to his death.
“They saved him!” Kirgipa turned to Dendarah with a wide grin, one that faded when Dendarah’s gaze didn’t turn from the river, and her scowl sharpened. Kirgipa looked back. “Oh no.”
Sofiris fought his saviors like a beast gone mad. He bellowed Iset’s name over and over, punching and striking at both Nareed and Necos until the latter got behind him and latched a muscled forearm around his neck. Sofiris writhed and twisted in his captor’s unrelenting grip which tightened slowly, slowly, until Sofiris’s eyes closed, and he slumped unconscious.
“You killed him!” Nareed shrieked, and the galla shrieked with her.
Necos shook his head and said something Kirgipa couldn’t hear above the river’s voice but which calmed Nareed. Between the two, they dragged Sofiris back to shore, leaving the galla to scream their frustration at losing their prey. The feminine silhouette had long dissolved into a sludge of shadow that boiled in a malevolent froth.
Kirgipa held the baby close and jogged with Dendarah to where the three lay on the ground. Nareed gathered her unconscious brother close, rocking him in her arms and crying. Necos hadn’t killed him, only rendered him unconscious in a strangle hold.
Necos clambered to his feet, dripping water and blood from the numerous cuts and gouges Sofiris had inflicted on him during their struggles.
“You’re bleeding,” Dendarah stated the obvious in a dry voice.
He snorted and smeared a ribbon blood across his neck with one hand. “Just a few scratches. I’m lucky. Had I been any slower, he would have laid my throat open with his claws.”
Kirgipa unwound the sling and handed the baby to a surprised Dendarah. “Watch her. I’ll tend to him.” She didn’t wait to argue, only grabbed Necos’s hand and led him back to their fire.
They had only a few bits of dry clothing left. With his injuries and night falling soon, they should stay where they were, build the fire higher and let everything dry. She’d insist on it.
Necos followed her orders to strip down to his waist. She laid his wet, bloodied shirt on the rocks, while he sat and waited for her to tend him.
He was an easy patient, neither complaining nor flinching when she cleaned the deep gouges scored into his flesh from Sofiris’s claws.
“We don’t have any spirits to cleanse the wounds,” she said. “And I don’t dare forage for herbs. Pray that these don’t poison. A fever will make it harder for you to travel.”
His lazy smile sent heat rushing up her neck and into her face. “I could get used to such vigilant care by you.”
She ducked her head and continued cleaning his cuts as best she could. Hard to do when his body was bared to her, all sleek muscle and smooth skin where the claws hadn’t reached. To distract herself, she thought of the galla. “I hate those things,” she declared. “It’s more than just the hunger.
“It’s the cruelty,” he replied. They delight in pain and suffering. It’s nectar to them.”
She glanced at Sofiris, still senseless in his sister’s arms. “He kept saying his wife’s name. ‘Iset.’” She shivered. “Poor woman. I don’t want to die like that.”
Necos’s light touch on her chin made her pause and she looked into eyes bright as gold coins. “You won’t, Kirgipa. I swear it.”
CHAPTER TEN
“I can leave you to sleep longer, Your Majesty.” Sinhue stood next to the bed, a robe draped over one arm as she waited for her mistress to stand.
Ildiko stifled a yawn with her hand. She had managed to crawl out of the covers enough to sit on the side of the bed. The effort to stay partially upright and gaze blearily at her maid almost defeated her. “I feel like I just closed my eyes.”
Sinhue draped the robe across the bed. “Wait here, Your Majesty. Cook brews a tea every soldier suffering from drink-sickness swears by.”
“I wasn’t drunk.” Although, as muzzy-headed as she was, one would think she’d been deep in her cups.
“It works to enliven anyone who’s slept poorly,” Sinhue assured her. “I’ll bring you a cup.”
Ildiko pitched sideways to recline once more on the bed. “Thank you, Sinhue. And bring a pitcher of Cook’s brew, not a cup. I’ll need it.” She closed her eyes and listened as the servant padded out of the room, leaving her to solitary rumination.
Brishen had left their bed long before she awakened to disappear somewhere on Saggara’s grounds. The demands on his time were many and unending, and she wondered how he managed not to crumple into a heap from sheer exhaustion.
She opened her eyes and stared the stone wall opposite her. The pleasant ache coursing through her muscles reminded her of the previous hours. Brishen had made love to her throughout the day and into twilight and had done the same the day before, leaving her sated but exhausted.
Her husband was generous with his affection toward her and unafraid to display it in front of others. His passion scorched the sheets, and Ildiko savored every touch. These latest encounters though… She sat up once more, winced, and reached for her robe.
Grateful he hadn’t withdrawn from her after their argument, she had almost
sobbed when he wrapped her in his arms and loved her through the sunlit hours. She hadn’t lost him, not completely, though a shadow of hurt still flickered across his features when he thought she didn’t notice. It was those times when Ildiko squelched the temptation to fall to her knees, beg his forgiveness and agree that abdication was a sound idea. Anything to remain his wife.
The Elsod’s declaration and Ildiko’s agreement had changed something fundamental between them, introduced a panic into their lovemaking that wormed its way between them. Insidious and subtle, it bled slowly into every touch, turning passion into purpose, desire into desperation.
Brishen spent himself inside her, kissed her and murmured endearments into her ear. And each time he rubbed her belly, hand gliding back and forth over her navel as if to incite some magic that slept there. Ildiko blinked back the sting of tears, fingers drifting across her abdomen. He could charm and bespell and fill her with his seed every hour. There would be no child of their union.
Sinhue strode into the room, a steaming mug of Cook’s brew clasped in her hands. “For you, Your Maj…” She paused and frowned. “Are you all right, Your Majesty?”
Ildiko stood, summoning a wan smile. “Just tired, Sinhue. Thank you.” She reached for the cup. “If this draught is as miraculous as you say, I’ll feel better in no time.”
The servant’s dismayed expression didn’t lessen. “You need more rest. You aren’t sleeping.”
That was certainly true. Ildiko sipped at her drink, surprised at its sweetness. Most draughts brewed for drink-sickness tasted foul. “I intend to sleep a fortnight straight when all of this is over,” she assured Sinhue.
A quick bath and breakfast followed by a visit to inquire about the Elsod’s health, and Ildiko made her way to the pigeon house. “Any news from Gaur?” she asked the bird keeper.
“None, Your Majesty. I can send another bird if you wish?”
She refused the offer. Gaur had not yet responded to either the message sent via rider or the one sent by carrier pigeon. Sangur the Lame should have gotten one of them by now. She agreed with Serovek that Rodan of Belawat wouldn’t raise a finger to help, but she hoped that Gaur would. They were trade partners and allies after all, even if the enemy was no longer a human neighbor but an otherworldly demonic force.