He was a paler shade of gray when they left the house and leaned against his patient mount for support.
“Brishen?” Ildiko clasped his elbow, frightened by the dullness of his eyes and the way his shoulders drooped.
“I’m fine, Ildiko. Just give me a moment. Giving up a mortem light leaves an emptiness at first.” Brishen swiped a hand across his brow and offered Ildiko a feeble smile. “I grew used to Talumey’s memories. Did you know his mother often admonished him when he was little for constantly picking his nose?”
Ildiko’s nose twitched at the idea. With the set of claws the Kai sported on the ends of their fingers, it was a wonder Talumey still had his nose as an adult if he indulged in such a habit. “You did a fine thing bringing his mortem light back to her, though I’d imagine your parents would thrash you for kneeling before a merchant’s wife.”
As proud as any human prince of a royal house, her new husband was also amiable and seemingly unaware of his status. No prince, duke, or baron she ever met would ever bend a knee to someone below them, even if it was a mandatory part of a religious ritual.
Brishen snorted. “When I met with my father last evening to discuss the Beladine attack, he opened the conversation by pinning my ears back for lowering myself and shaming my house’s name.”
Having been a recipient of similar diatribes from her aunt, Ildiko sympathized. “I’m guessing you lost no sleep over his displeasure?”
He shrugged. “None whatsoever. If a simple genuflection of gratitude compromises my character and shames my house, then we are both less than shadow. There is more to royalty than blood and birthright, wife.”
They rode back to the palace, Ildiko’s grip tight around Brishen’s waist. He was too heavy for her to stop him from falling off his horse if he fainted, but at least she could slow the fall. He patted her hands occasionally as if to reassure her. She wished she’d chosen the carriage.
A small army of servants had greeted him in his chambers. Brishen hugged Ildiko, promised he’d check in on her later, collapsed across his bed and promptly fell asleep. She instructed the servants to leave him dressed and tossed a blanket over him. His personal servant assured her he’d keep watch and let Ildiko know if any problem arose.
Ildiko had kept to her room the remainder of the evening and stayed awake until almost dawn, her ears straining to hear any sound from the chamber next door. She fell asleep to the silence and awakened the next evening to Brishen at her door, none the worse for wear and with the offer to show her the royal gardens. They toured the paths. He knew nothing of flowers and plants, and she’d teased him that if they’d toured the armory, he’d be far more informative.
“That’s true,” he said. “But you please me more surrounded by things of beauty than things of war.”
He continued to amaze her, this Kai prince with his wolf smile and radiant soul. With that bit of praise, he’d made the garden her favorite place to visit in Haradis, even now when it slept, brittle and black under the sunlight.
“I have a fine husband indeed,” she said aloud to herself as she soaked up the morning rays.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” the subject of her thoughts replied.
Ildiko jumped as a heavily cloaked and hooded Brishen sat down beside her. He turned a shoulder against the sun so that his hood protected his face from direct light.
“What are you doing up?” she asked. Only the guards on duty were awake at this hour, and the one who stood sentinel nearby kept watch from the deep shadows cast by leafy limbs of a tree.
Brishen’s eyes were yellow slits in his dark face. “I might ask the same of you.”
“I miss the sun,” she said. She didn’t resent changing her sleep schedule to mimic the Kai’s, but her body craved a bit of daylight. “And I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I thought I’d come out here. It’s peaceful.”
“With no one around?” His smile had taken on a wry quality.
Ildiko shrugged. “Yes. While the Gauri court was just as crowded and busy, I was often left to my own devices and not so closely...”
“Scrutinized?” Brishen sighed at her nod. “It can be suffocating if you’re not used to it.”
“Are you used to it?”
“Not anymore.”
Ildiko wondered what had changed for him. He answered her unspoken question.
“Since I spend most of my time on my estate, the palace feels like an overcrowded nest of angry wasps.” He traced a line down her arm. “What think you if we quit this place and travel home? I’m eager to show you what I call sanctuary.”
Ildiko captured his hand and kissed his knuckles. She laughed when he only flinched a little. “Do I have to bid your mother goodbye?”
“If you feel up to a little self torture, certainly. I avoid her whenever possible. When do you want to leave?”
“Now?”
He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll bargain for tonight. You need sleep and so do I. And I need out of this hideous sun before I go completely blind.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What’s the fastest we can load supplies and assemble troops for the journey home?” Brishen glanced over his shoulder as he brushed down his favorite horse. Anhuset leaned against the stall door, her arms draped casually over the top bar. She straightened abruptly at Brishen’s question, the perpetual frown line between her pale eyebrows smoothing.
“As fast as you want them. I’ll see to it.” She rubbed her palms together. “Does this mean you’ve grown tired of trotting yourself and the hercegesé out before the royal court like prized horseflesh?”
Brishen tossed the brush into a nearby bucket and patted the mare’s shoulder. “I was sick of it before we even got here. Ildiko has been more patient about the whole thing than I have, but she’s done as well.”
Anhuset swung the stall door open to let him out and closed it behind him. “She adapts easily.”
“One of her many strengths.”
She followed him to the pump by the well where he levered water into his hands for washing. Stable hands and soldiers milled around them. They bowed or saluted as they passed Brishen and his trusted lieutenant on their way to or from the royal stables.
Anhuset handed him a towel from a nearby rack. “Did you tell her Saggara is more fortress than palace?”
Brishen motioned for her to follow him as they made their way back to the private palace gates used by the royal family. “She knows we perch near the border with Belawat. I don’t think I’ll need to explain why that requires a garrison close by.”
“She’s palace-born and bred, Commander. Saggara lacks the comforts of Haradis and from what I saw at your wedding, it most definitely lacks the finer things of Pricid.”
He shrugged and strode to the gates, acknowledging the bowing guards with a quick nod. “As you say, she adapts easily.”
It was true that Ildiko had a particular talent for adjusting quickly not only to new surroundings but to circumstance and situation as well. She’d never uttered a word of complaint about sleeping on the ground in a tent or spending hours on horseback when they traveled from Pricid to Haradis. She’d changed her sleeping habits to match those of the Kai and choked down food even some of the Kai found challenging. He had every faith she would take yet another change of scenery with the same equanimity she’d shown so far.
Still, he wanted Ildiko to like Saggara, not simply adjust to it. The estate had been his since the king had given it to him more than a decade earlier on the promise Brishen would hold it in the role of margrave and defend Kai borders against an increasingly hostile Belawat. A five-night ride from Haradis, Saggara was his refuge from court intrigue and the queen’s malevolent presence.
Secmis had declared her disapproval of his move to Saggara by calling the old estate a filthy midden not fit for beggars and declared she’d never grace him with her presence while he resided there. It was only one of three times Brishen could recall in his life where he’d been even remotel
y tempted to embrace his mother.
He and Anhuset discussed their plans for moving supplies and additional troops to Saggara as they passed through the palace’s maze of hallways. They’d reached the floor where his and Ildiko’s chamber were located when a scream split the air and bounced off the stone walls. Another followed after it. Brishen felt the bottom drop out from his stomach as he recognized Ildiko’s voice.
“What in the gods’ names...” Anhuset said before they both sprinted down the hall, swords drawn.
Brishen shoved aside a guard who’d joined in the chase, frantic to reach his wife. He rounded the corner and halted abruptly. Anhuset narrowly missed careening into him, her curses salting the air. He ignored her.
Ildiko stood in the hall, motioning frantically to her maid. “Hurry, Sinhue. It’s getting away!”
The maid yanked a small axe from the weapons fan that decorated a patch of wall near Ildiko’s door. She raced to her mistress and handed her the weapon. Neither woman noticed their would-be rescuers.
“Do you see it?”
“It’s gone up the wall. If it gets too high, I won’t be able to reach it.”
Anhuset thumped Brishen on the shoulder. “What is ‘it’?”
He wasn’t waiting to find out and chased after the two women as they disappeared around another curve in the hallway. His heart wedged into his throat at the sight that greeted him.
Ildiko and Sinhue jumped about as if they walked barefoot on hot coals, their gazes frozen on the wall in front of them. Ildiko held the axe in front of her, swatting at a large shadow clinging to the stones.
The “it” was a scarpatine—a big female with venom sacs swollen to the size of plums beneath her arching tail. The stinger glistened in the half-light, droplets of yellow venom splashing across her armored back onto the floor where they sizzled and birthed tendrils of black smoke.
Before Brishen could yell at Ildiko to back away, the scarpatine scuttled toward her, its many legs flexing as it prepared to leap on its victim and sink the venomous barb into flesh. Sinhue shrieked, as did Ildiko before she swung the axe. The flat of the blade caught the insect broadside, and Brishen heard bells as metal slammed against stone. The ringing sound was muted by the wet crack of crushed insect shell and innards.
Brishen caught the axe just as it fell from Ildiko’s fingers. He handed the weapon to Anhuset and spun Ildiko one way and then the other. Her hair, half out of its braid, flew into her face, and she scraped it away to stare at him wide-eyed.
“Did you get any of the venom on you, Ildiko?” He ran his hands over her face, her neck, across hers shoulders and breasts, hunting for any tell-tale patches of burnt cloth or the reactive sting on his own skin if he brushed against venom splatters. The wall displayed a mural of dead, smeared scarpatine smoking black in the dim light, and the hall reeked with the smell of rotten fish.
Ildiko pushed his hands away. “I’m fine, Brishen.” She scowled. “I can’t believe the Kai eat those disgusting creatures. I can’t believe I ate one.”
Anhuset spoke up, and Brishen didn’t imagine the amusement in her voice. “We eat the males. The females are too venomous.” She glanced at Brishen and spoke in a pidgin dialect of bast-Kai Ildiko wouldn’t understand. “She’s handy with a blade. Should you no longer want her as a wife, give her to me. With enough training, she’d make a decent shield mate.”
Brishen saw nothing humorous in the situation. He glanced at the remains of the scarpatine as bits and pieces oozed down the wall. He signaled to one of the guards standing nearby. “Send someone to clean this up.” He turned to Sinhue who hovered close to Ildiko. “I need you to tend to your mistress.”
The maid nodded and bowed. Brishen ushered Ildiko to her chamber, peppering her and Sinhue with questions the entire way.
Ildiko made straight for her wash basin, unlaced the sleeves of her tunic and set to scrubbing her hands and arms. “I don’t know how it got in here, Brishen. Sinhue was helping me dress for dinner. Thank the gods she had the foresight to fold down the bedding early.” She smiled at her servant who handed her a towel to dry her arms. The smile faded. “The thing was hiding under the covers. It jumped at Sinhue before squeezing under the door to escape.”
Brishen and Anhuset inspected the chamber, shaking curtains, crawling under the bed and flipping the mattress off the ropes to check for another hidden menace.
Satisfied that the room was safe and no other scarpatine hid in the wardrobes or chests, Brishen scraped a hand over his face. “You should have let it go, wife. The females are aggressive and their venom strong enough to kill a horse.”
Ildiko gave him a look that spoke of her doubt regarding his intelligence. “And let it lurk in the shadows waiting to ambush some poor unsuspecting soul? You perhaps? Or Anhuset? And what if no one managed to catch it?” She shuddered. “I’d never sleep knowing that thing was creeping about somewhere in the palace.”
He growled low in his throat. “You aren’t a warrior, Ildiko.”
She scowled at him. “No, but I can certainly kill an insect.”
“You sure can,” Anhuset said from her place by the door.
Brishen snapped his teeth at his cousin. “Not another word.” His mind raced. Scarpatines liked warm, dark places, but they disliked the smell of Kai and tended to avoid areas where they gathered such as houses. They were more a danger to hunters and trackers who might stumble across them in the wild or stable hands who learned to be handy with pitchforks when they discovered scarpatines hiding in straw piles.
The scarpatine that found a haven in Ildiko’s bed had been put there purposefully. A cold knot settled under Brishen’s ribs, spreading until he was sure ice water, not blood, flowed in his veins. He reached for Ildiko, tugging on her hand until she stood within the circle of his arms. He could smell the fear pouring off her in waves. The ice water coursed ever colder through his body.
“I need to do something but will return soon,” he said softly. “I’ll leave Anhuset here with you and your servant. She’ll guard you until I return.”
Ildiko went rigid in his arms, and her mouth turned down. Her eyes narrowed. “That is a waste of your lieutenant’s time, Brishen. I don’t need a nursemaid; I can step on my own bug.” He made to argue but stopped at the feel of her finger pressed against his lips. She flashed her square teeth in a smile. “Just leave the axe before you go.”
Brishen kissed her fingertip, relenting. “The room’s clear but keep a sharp eye.”
“No worries there,” she assured him. Her gaze flickered to every corner of the room before settling on him once more. “I think I’ll wear all black again tonight,” she said.
He gave her a deep bow. “It suits you.” He signaled to Anhuset who opened the door. “I’ll return in time to escort you to the hall.”
The door had barely clicked behind him before Brishen hurtled down the long corridor toward the staircase leading up to the queen’s suite of chambers, Anhuset in pursuit.
“Brishen, stop!”
He ignored her, sprinting ever faster toward his quarry where she waited in the center of her web. He grunted as a heavy weight slammed into his back, driving him to the floor. He tumbled with his attacker in a tangle of arms and legs until they crashed against the wall. In seconds he was crouched with Anhuset between his knees, his forearm pressed against her throat until she wheezed.
He eased the pressure, and she gasped for a mouthful of air. “Be glad of my affection for you, sha-Anhuset.” He bit out each syllable between hard breaths. His arm lowered, and his hand slid over her collarbones to rest between her breasts. “Or I would have ripped your heart out by now and fed it back to you.”
Anhuset grasped Brishen’s wrist. “You’re my commander and my cousin, Highness. I’d be no friend to you if I didn’t try and stop you from running to your own beheading.”
“That viper deserves death.” Brishen’s rage threatened to choke him.
“Maybe, but you don’t, and her power is gr
eater than yours. Greater than your father’s.” White sparks flared in Anhuset’s eyes, and faint humor softened her mouth. “Have faith in your hercegesé. She did a fine job with the axe. She can hold her own. If you must die to defend her, don’t do it over something this petty.”
He almost snapped Anhuset’s neck in that moment. “Petty?”
Her nostrils flared, and her eyes blazed. The gray of her skin had leached out to a mottled ivory, yet she persevered. “Yes. Petty. This is Secmis we speak of, Brishen. She probably cuddles with scarpatine when she grows lonely, then eats them whole when she grows hungry. This little stunt is a joke to her.”
Anhuset’s words didn’t lessen the killing urge roaring through Brishen at the moment, but the sensible voice inside him grew louder and agreed with her. He stood and helped her up. “Do what’s needed to prepare. We leave tonight, even if that means only a handful of us goes, and Ildiko travels in her sleeping gown.”
Anhuset saluted him but hesitated. “Promise me, cousin, you won’t make off for the queen’s chambers the second my back is turned.”
Brishen shook his head. “I make no such promises.” He chuckled at her scowl, the rage inside him subsiding a little. “You’ve always been faster than all of us. You’d catch me again.”
Her frown didn’t ease. “Yes I would.” She didn’t give ground until he turned away from the staircase and strode back to Ildiko’s chamber.
He found her in the midst of dressing for dinner. She peeked around the concealing screen in one corner of the room. “That was quick.”
Brishen chose not to reveal that his more rational cousin had thwarted his plans to spit his mother on the point of his sword like the scarpatine she was. He glanced at the black silk tunic and trousers laid across the bed—utterly unsuitable for hard riding.
“What do you think,” he said, “if we take supper on the road?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Brishen, you worry too much. I’m quite recovered from my scare with the scarpatine.”