She rose from her seat and tiptoed to the baby’s bed. Even with her eyes more adjusted to darkness, she still couldn’t make out the details of the baby’s features. It didn’t matter. The light of a candle didn’t reveal any more than the darkness did. A Kai girl child, distinguished in her gender by the obvious genitalia and the cap of silvery-white hair. Beyond that, Ildiko couldn’t say if the infant resembled any member of the Khaskem family in a defining way. She had only her trust in Kirgipa’s honesty and the zealous protection exhibited by Necos and Dendarah to rely on. She had no way of proving this child was the heir to the Kai throne. That task lay with Brishen, and she wondered how he might validate the claim when he returned. If he returned.
The baby cooed in her sleep when Ildiko lightly traced the soft curve of her cheek. She had accepted the fact she’d bear no children while she was Brishen’s wife, and since her greatest wish was to remain his wife until she died, there would be no children for her ever. Fate, in its strange and twisted humors had proclaimed otherwise. This child, still nameless until her first year, was now not only a queen, but an orphaned one. Brishen, as her uncle, might no longer be king, but he would become regent, with all the responsibilities of a monarch until the baby came of age to independently rule. He would be her advisor, her mentor and ultimately her father. And Ildiko, her mother.
The reality of impending parenthood knocked the breath out of Ildiko’s lungs, and she pulled away to stifle a gasp behind her hand. The role of regent had frightened her, but she embraced it with dogged determination. Ruling a kingdom was one thing; raising a child something else. Something far more terrifying. The baby slept on, oblivious to her observer’s churning emotions.
Ildiko tiptoed back to her chair, feeling faintly ill. She could never replace Tiye as the baby’s mother, but she could be a second mother and love her in the way Ildiko’s mother had loved Ildiko—with all her heart. A burgeoning excitement soon chased away the sickness.
She froze in front of the chair when the chamber door creaked open. Every instinct she possessed screamed a silent warning, one verified when a dark shape slid stealthily through the narrow opening and crept inside on soundless feet. A pair of yellow eyes glanced at the bed where Ildiko usually slept, taking in the bunched covers that looked as if she slumbered there now. The intruder’s gaze moved to the sleeping nursemaid and settled on the baby bed.
Whoever this was hadn’t seen Ildiko by the window, and she used that fact to her advantage. She slammed the shutters open with both hands. Bright sunlight flooded the room, revealing a Kai man dressed in nondescript clothes and holding a bloodied knife.
He reeled from the blinding light and raised both hands to shield his eyes. Ildiko inhaled a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs. The earsplitting shriek startled the groggy nursemaid wide awake and sent the baby into a chorus of equally deafening howls.
“Guards! Guards!” Ildiko shouted until she was hoarse, but no one burst into the room. The would-be assassin squinted at her and snarled before returning his attention to the baby bed. The nursemaid added her own shrieks as she snatched the wailing child out of the bed and backed herself right into the far corner of the room.
The attacker’s feral grin curved triumphant as he crept toward them, knife blade gleaming in the sun’s light. Desperate, Ildiko searched for something, anything to stop him. Her gaze landed on the shutter pole leaned against the wall behind her. Used to unlatch and open the shutters too high for arm’s reach, it was the same length as the long silabat stick she used to train with Anhuset.
Concentrated on his prey and unconcerned about the weak human woman hiding in the opposite corner, the assassin didn’t anticipate Ildiko’s attack. She grasped the shutter pole like a spear and rammed the weighted brass hook end into the back of his knee with all her strength.
He crashed to the ground with a scream of his own, the knife flying out of his hand to spin across the floor. Ildiko didn’t pause. She pivoted on one foot, swung to the side and smashed the pole down on his head, striking his temple. A sickening crack followed. Ildiko struck him a second time. Sounds erupted from her throat, animalistic grunts and snarls as terrified rage cast a red haze over her vision. She raised the pole for a third blow only to stumble when it was seized from behind. She spun, hands still clutching the crimson-stained stick to stare wide-eyed and gasping at Anhuset. She screeched and tried to wrestle the pole free until the Kai woman roared directly in her face.
“Ildiko, stop!”
She froze, startled back to awareness of her surroundings. She looked frantically for the nursemaid and found her still huddled in the corner, clutching the howling baby to her. “Are you alright, Imi?” she croaked. The nursemaid nodded, her eyes huge in her face.
“Let go, Hercegesé.”
Ildiko returned her attention to Anhuset and discovered they both still gripped the shutter pole. Behind her, a crowd of onlookers filled the room, mostly troops with swords drawn.
Anhuset could have easily yanked the makeshift weapon out of her hand. She didn’t. She waited, stern features calm and watchful, until Ildiko loosened her grip and tucked her trembling hands under her arms in a self embrace.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
Anhuset skirted around her, still holding the shutter pole. A short silence reigned before she spoke. “You shattered his knee and caved in his skull. I think it’s safe to say he’s dead.”
Ildiko slowly pivoted and wished she hadn’t. The Kai sprawled on the floor, leg bent at an odd angle. Bits of bone and brain dotted his cheek. Blood pooled under his ear and trickled out of his mouth. Ildiko raced to the wash basin and promptly emptied the remnants of her supper into it.
“He tried to kill the Queen Regnant,” she said after rinsing her mouth with a cup of water someone handed her. She groaned at the slip. For all her warnings to everyone else not to reveal the baby’s identity, she just virtually shouted it from the rooftops.
Anhuset’s dry response didn’t make her feel any better. “No use fretting,” she said. “If he came to kill her, then your secret is already out.” Her tone changed, became sharper. “Someone close those shutters before I go completely blind,” she snapped. “And haul that sack of horse dung out of here so we don’t have to look at it. Find out who knows him and bring them to me.”
Ildiko pitied whoever might suffer an interrogation from sha-Anhuset. She ordered Ildiko to sit in one of the chairs by the hearth and sent a shaken Sinhue down to the kitchens to fetch wine for both her mistress and the nursemaid who looked on the verge of fainting.
“Do you want to retire to another chamber while this gets cleaned up?” Anhuset jerked a thumb to the spot where the dead Kai had sprawled.
Ildiko avoided looking in that direction a second time and shook her head. Her nails carved half-moons into her palms before she relaxed her hands, marched to one of the chairs near the fire and turned it so it faced away from the scene. She sat down, holding on to the threads of her dignity even as shock shredded it like wet flax. “No,” she said in flat voice. “This is my room. I will not be driven out by some baby-murdering bastard Kai. Or his ghost. Just make sure the stain is good and gone.”
Her gaze sought out Imi and the baby hovering nearby. She dimly registered that the little queen’s wails had subsided to into soft hiccups and snuffles as Imi made shushing noises. Ildiko gestured for the nurse to bring the baby to her. “You’re free to leave, if you wish Imi. Just send Kirgipa to me.”
“I’d like to stay, if you please, my lady,” Imi said in a soft voice and passed her charge to Ildiko who settled her on her lap.
Infant Kai and human woman stared at each other for a long moment, and Ildiko wondered what the baby saw when she looked into a face different from her kin. She stroked the tiny head, feeling the soft hair tickle the spaces between her fingers. The little queen cooed and blew a spit bubble between her pursed lips. Her small fist waved in the air, one opening to grasp the finger Ildiko held out to her.
“I suspect all of Saggara will be on fire with chatter about you, little one,” Ildiko said. She glanced at Anhuset who watched them both from the chair she claimed. “You’ll have to assign a guard to Kirgipa, at least until the fervor about one of Harkuf’s children being alive dies down. Otherwise, she’ll be inundated with questions and driven to madness by them.”
“I’ll assign Necos. He and Kirgipa are friends, and as a former palace guard, he’ll handle any overly persistent curiosity monger with the right amount of...persuasion.”
Ildiko concentrated on running her fingers lightly over the baby’s plump body, a far more pleasant pastime than remembering the sight of the dead Kai on her bedchamber floor. “The assassin killed the guards, didn’t he? I screamed for them but none came.”
“Yes,” Anhuset said. “Both their throats cut. They were good soldiers. All I can think is someone found out they were on guard duty today. The right amount of dream flower powder in a goblet of wine won’t give you visions, but it will make you slow. Dim your senses. Easy to sneak up on and overpower.”
Ildiko lifted the baby and kissed her forehead before returning her to her nurse. “I couldn’t sleep. No word from Brishen or about him in more than a fortnight. I was too worried, so I got up and sat by the window. I saw the door open and the Kai sneaking inside.” She shivered and stared at Anhuset. “What if I had been asleep?”
Anhuset shrugged. “Then the queen would be dead,” she said flatly. “And likely the nurse and you.” Her mouth turned up at one corner. “You were paying closer attention to those gatke lessons than I thought you were.”
Ildiko raised a hand to show the other woman how badly it trembled. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” she said. “I had to. I know this, but it doesn’t make it easier to accept.” She returned Anhuset’s slight smile with a bleak one of her own. “I am not a warrior.”
“You were when you needed to be.”
Straightforward words without lavish, empty praise and yet Ildiko fancied she’d been given both absolution and the highest of compliments. Anhuset, whom she’d respected and admired since she first met her, approved of her actions.
When Sinhue returned with the wine, Ildiko and Anhuset toasted each other and Imi, emptied their cups and refilled from the pitcher. Ildiko glanced at the nursemaid who, with Sinhue’s help, prepared an early breakfast for the baby. The chamber had slowly darkened, and Sinhue lit the candles in a candelabra for Ildiko’s benefit.
Anhuset finished her second goblet of wine and set it aside. “Always a good way to break your fast,” she proclaimed. Again, her mouth turned up briefly at Ildiko’s chuckle. “I think now you’ll sleep,” she said. “You’ve been dealt a shock or two. Your mind needs the rest as much as your body.”
At her words, Ildiko surrendered to a huge yawn. She shook it off. “I don’t have time to sleep. The sejm will want to meet to discuss the Queen Regnant, and we need to find who sent an assassin to kill her.”
“The sejm can wait, and I don’t need your help to hunt down criminals.” Anhuset gave a short bow. “No disrespect intended, Hercegesé.”
Ildiko was thrilled with her old title. Lower in status and so much lighter on her shoulders. She still occupied the role of regent, but she was no longer queen consort. Thank the gods for that. Another yawn stopped her from replying, and Anhuset left the room before she could stop her.
Brishen’s cousin was right. A sudden fatigue plagued her, as if she had rowed a merchant ship single-handedly into Pricid’s harbor. Memories of the earlier violence weighted her soul , and her mind shied away from the grisly image of the Kai assassin, dead by her hand. She sought her bed and crawled under the covers, eyes already half closed. Sleep claimed her even as Sinhue tugged the covers over her shoulders.
The servant’s voice was only a vague murmur in her ears. “Well done, Your Highness. Well done.”
She awoke to a room made gloomy by shadows and the low firelight cast by the lit hearth. The lack of sunlight edging the window shutters told her it was still nighttime. Had she only slept a few hours? There was no one to ask. She was alone, and her heart slammed against her ribs at the sight of the empty baby bed nearby and no nursemaid in sight.
Blankets tangled around her legs, and she frantically kicked them aside. The baby. Where was the baby?
Sinhue’s serene voice stopped her from catapulting out of the bed. “You’re awake, my lady.”
Ildiko spotted her in the room’s deeper shadows where the firelight didn’t reach. She must have kept watch while Ildiko slept. “Where’s Imi and the queen?”
“Imi is attending personal business. The queen is with Kirgipa and half the garrison keeping watch over them.”
The amusement in the servant’s voice and confirmation of the baby’s whereabouts sent a surge of relief through Ildiko. She rubbed at itchy eyes. “How long did I sleep? Surely more than a few hours.”
Sinhue opened one of the chests that held Ildiko’s clothing and laid underskirt and tunic on the bed. “Since yester eve. The day has come and gone.”
Ildiko’s eyes rounded. “That long? Why didn’t you wake me? I can’t waste my time sleeping.” Her rest hadn’t even been restful. Dark dreams plagued her, visions of the Kai she killed interspersed with those of Brishen and the low, stunned sound he made when Serovek ran him through with the sword.
“Sha-Anhuset said not to disturb you unless the herceges himself strode through the redoubt’s gates.” She handed Ildiko a new shift and stockings, a smile curving her mouth. “Only the foolish and the reckless ignore an edict from sha-Anhuset.”
“I’m supposed to meet with the sejm.” She shrugged on a soft woolen shirt and stepped into the underskirts Sinhue handed her. “The gods only knows what rumors are swirling about regarding the queen.” She suspected half the council accepted Ildiko’s inadvertent admission that a child of the heir apparent had survived the galla attack in Haradis while the other half soundly rejected it. This would be a contentious meeting.
Sinhue laced the underskirt until it fit snug against Ildiko’s waist and held the long tunic while she slipped her arms through the arm holes. “The sejm has been told to gather whenever you’re ready. Shall I bring you something to eat or do you wish to eat in the hall?”
“Here, I think.” She’d savor the solitude before facing the sejm to answer a slew of questions and probably as many accusations about keeping the Queen Regnant’s identity a secret for her own nefarious purposes.
She was slipping on her shoes when a frantic beating at the door made her and Sinhue exchange wary glances. “Hercegesé, come quick!”
“Oh my gods,” Ildiko whispered. “The baby.” She bolted toward the door and jerked it open. A Kai soldier stood on the other side, her eyes shining like twin lamps in the dark corridor. “Where’s the queen?” Ildiko snapped.
The soldier backed up, a confused frown lining her brow. “With her nurse and guards, Your Highness.” She gestured with a tilt of her head toward the stairwell. “Sha-Anhuset sent me to find you. Riders approaching the redoubt with an army behind them. Scouts say it’s the herceges and his Wraith Kings.”
She almost didn’t move out of the way in time before Ildiko was running down the corridor toward the stairs with Sinhue calling after her. “Your Highness, your shoes!”
Ildiko ignored her. Shoes be damned. She’d destroy hers within seconds of entering the muddy bailey, but she refused to take precious time changing into her boots.
For the first time since Ildiko had come to live at Saggara, the bailey was empty except for carts and a pig loose from its pen. Everyone had gathered on the surrounding plain outside the gates. The soldier Anhuset dispatched to fetch her touched her elbow, guiding her through the throng of Kai. Many bowed as she passed, some whispering her name, Ildiko Hercegesé, in admiring tones. Word of her fight with the Kai assassin had spread.
She found Anhuset with Mertok at the front of the crowd. Kirgipa stood nearby, the Queen Regnant
in her arms and a contingent of guards encircling her. Ildiko calmed at the sight. The baby was safe.
Anhuset pointed to a line edging the horizon, darker than the descending twilight. “Brishen and the dead,” she said.
Ildiko peered in the direction the other woman pointed but couldn’t make out anything other than the darker line of demarcation. She listened for the sound of distant hoof beats or marching steps but heard only the rumbling conversation of the gathered crowd who watched with her.
The dark line widened across the plain, spreading like a nebulous high tide as it drew ever closer to Saggara. Soon the entire plain, once dusted in starlight, turned black. Some of the Kai uttered prayers to their gods while others wondered if any of their deceased loved ones rode with the herceges.
Vaporous shapes roiled within the cloudy depths, vague outlines of people with ever-shifting faces and will-o-the-wisp eyes. Chills spread down Ildiko’s back and arms. The dead, Kai and human, covered the dormant carpet of dropseed grass in a purling shroud. Silent. Watching the living Kai watch them.
They halted, as if waiting for a command, and soon horsemen emerged from the revenant line’s flanks, two on either side. The rode to the front, where three reigned in simulacra horses and a fourth advanced toward the Kai. Ildiko gave a dry sob at the sight of her husband in beaten, gouged armor.
She left Anhuset’s side and stood in the open space between the living and the dead. Brishen dismounted and strode toward her. He stopped an arm’s distance away and pulled off his helmet. Gasps filled the frigid night air as the Kai faced a Wraith King for the first time.
Even Ildiko, who had witnessed Brishen’s transformation at Saruna Tor, consciously planted her feet so as not to skitter away from him. He wore the same face, carried himself with the same grace and power, but the eye that gazed at her and the people he had battled galla for wasn’t Kai yellow, but ethereal blue threaded with lightning. It stared through them instead of at them. The sword he carried glowed with the same otherworldly luminescence as his eye. Shadow clung to him, as if he not only wore darkness but spawned it as well. It hollowed his features, casting the fine bones of his face into a spectral gauntness.