He heartily regretted the idea the moment a servant placed a steaming plate of brown ooze accompanied by something that reminded him of a small frozen horse dropping. Ildiko sat next to him at the high table. She leaned close to whisper in his ear.
“It’s a stew made with the king’s own herd of cattle.” She pointed to the brown thing. “That is a potato. Watch.”
Ildiko split her own potato thing lengthwise, revealing two smoking slabs of pale inner flesh. The smell wafting to his nostrils made him think of wet dirt. She used her fork to eviscerate it into a heap of glistening mush. He was sure he just witnessed the brutal mutilation of a giant cooked larva. Brishen made a low choking sound and gripped the arms of his chair when she forked a small mound into her mouth.
His kinsmen watched him from their places at the lower tables, their plates untouched as they waited for him to follow his own edict. He took several shallow breaths, followed Ildiko’s lead, butchered the larva-potato and took a hesitant bite.
Grainy, soft and tasteless, it sat on his tongue, swelling in his mouth until he thought he’d gag. Once more Ildiko leaned close.
“Brishen, there will be a riot if you spit it out.”
He clamped his lips tightly closed and swallowed. There wasn’t enough wine or ale in the world to kill the revolting smear coating his tongue, but he drained his goblet and Ildiko’s before signaling a servant for more. The Kai continued to watch him, and he glared at every one of them until they picked up their own utensils and braved their potatoes.
Their reactions mirrored his. He’d have to sleep with one eye open and his hand wrapped around a dagger for the next fortnight or find one rammed between his shoulders in revenge. A tug on his sleeve made him turn his attention back to Ildiko.
“I’m sorry, Brishen. Is it that bad?” He heard the sympathy in her voice and patted her hand to reassure her. Bad was an understatement, but he shook his head and lied through his fangs. “No. I’ve dealt with worse.”
He’d eat those words as well over the next three torturous hours. The stew had been as vile as the potato, but neither compared to the following courses of perfectly good eels ruined as they curled in a gelatinous mold studded green with herbs, guinea fowl roasted and seasoned with some concoction that convinced him the royal cook wasn’t a cook but a necromancer who ground the bones of the dead and mixed them with the pepper. The cheese plate almost did him in, and he had to ask Ildiko twice if the ones speckled a greenish-blue weren’t actually bits and pieces of fermented corpse. Her explanation of how the cheese was made had him wishing they’d served fermented corpse instead.
He persevered and choked down some of everything, each bite followed by a generous swallow of wine. His kinsmen did as Anhuset promised and ate their servings, murder in their eyes as they glared at him over the rims of their goblets.
His fervent prayers to every god who might listen were answered when King Sangur declared the banquet finished and made a final toast. There was no dancing to follow. Any other time, and Brishen would have been disappointed. The Kai loved to dance. Every celebration had dancing, and it wasn’t at all unusual for the celebrants to dance until they collapsed from exhaustion.
Now he was just thankful he didn’t have to do more than rise and escort his new wife out of the room to the bridal chamber prepared for them. His stomach roiled, hating him as much as his fellow Kai did at the moment.
Ildiko squeezed his hand as the Gauri maids waited to divest her of her gown. She waved them off and turned to him. “There’s no reason to stay any longer in Pricid, Brishen. I have no quarrel if you wish to leave tonight.”
His ugly, great-hearted bride could obviously read his thoughts. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her forehead. “Are you sure, Ildiko? Don’t you wish to tell your family goodbye?”
She plucked at his sleeve, and her mouth curved down. Grief. An old grief. Brishen was learning to read his wife’s expressions the way she read his thoughts. “I said goodbye to my family when I prayed at my parents’ tombs. There’s no reason for me to linger here.”
With that, he left her to have the servants gather those things she’d already packed and load them into the wagon that would accompany them to Haradis. He found the rest of the Kai gathered in a small courtyard, sharing pitchers of wine between them.
They rose together at his entrance and bowed. Anhuset approached him.
“I hate you,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’ll live.”
“After that vile meal we all choked down for you, don’t bet on it, cousin.”
Brishen hid a smile. Anhuset was closer to him than his sibling had ever been. She was also his lieutenant and second-in-command of his troop. Deadly in combat and fiercely loyal to him, her death threats were empty one. He remained wary though. She’d have no compunction trying to beat him bloody if he annoyed her too much.
“My wife wishes to leave now,” he said.
His eyes widened as the courtyard exploded into a frenzy of activity and several enthusiastic toasts to the new hercegesé. Ildiko had scored her first victory with her Kai family, and she wasn’t even here to witness it.
They were loaded, saddled and on the road as the moon began its descent toward the dawn. Normally he rode at the head of his contingent, but this journey was different. With Ildiko’s dower wagon along, they’d have to travel the main road through bandit country. Brishen’s first duty was to protect his wife, and he rode beside her, surrounded by two dozen armed Kai. He was armored himself and bristling with weaponry. Ildiko hadn’t balked when he helped her buckle on one of Anhuset’s breastplates.
“Is it so dangerous then?” She chewed on her lip and stared down at the armor encasing her torso.
Brishen adjusted the buckles and checked the seams at the shoulders to make sure she was comfortable. “It can be. It’s a heavily traveled trade road with caravans ripe for the picking.” He handed her the traveling cloak her maids had set aside earlier. “Don’t worry, Ildiko. They’ll think twice about attacking us. We’re not tinkers, and we’re heavily armed. It’s not only the Gauri who know of the Kai fighting skills.”
She’d been awkward in the armor and shy around his kinsmen. They had averted their eyes when she first approached them but bowed low and offered their congratulations to her, along with a salute of loyalty.
Owl hoots accompanied the creak of wagon wheels and the clop of horse hooves, along with the rustle of night creatures that hunted in the forest bordering both sides of the trade road. Ildiko’s eyes were closed, and she began to cant in the saddle, sliding toward Brishen. He nudged his horse against hers.
“Ildiko, wake up.”
She opened her eyes, the ever-changing pupils expanded to swallow the blue irises. “Is it morning?” she asked in a slurred voice.
Brishen slid further back on the saddle pad, slipped his arms around Ildiko and lifted her from her saddle. He plopped her in front of him. “Not morning yet, but you’re about to fall off your horse. If you won’t sleep in the wagon, you can ride with me.”
She nodded and nestled into the cove of his arms, metal armor clanking between them.
The Kai prince held her against him, learning her warmth and her scent. The feel of her was no different from the Kai women he’d embraced. She was just as warm, her oddly colored skin just as smooth, her hair equally soft. With her asleep, he could tilt his head and gaze at her profile without the distraction of her eyes.
He’d observed the noblemen of the Gauri court as their gazes followed Ildiko during the wedding ceremony. While Brishen didn’t find her beautiful, it was obvious to him the Gauri men did. Still, he didn’t regret this union. Ildiko was unique and witty, and he enjoyed her company. It was a promising start.
Brishen settled her closer to him. He stiffened suddenly in the saddle at a whisper of sound. “Shields!” he bellowed and shoved a startled Ildiko toward his mount’s neck.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ildiko woke abruptly to a mouthful of horse’s m
ane and the weight of Brishen’s body smashing hers to the saddle. The air around her hung thick and dark, and it took her a moment to realize she sheltered with Brishen beneath the dome of his shield. Something struck the metal with a hammering ring. Brishen rocked sideways, his arm and shoulder flexing against her side as he absorbed the impact of the blow.
Ildiko clutched the pommel as the animal shied and pranced beneath her. Another hammer blow struck the shield. She gasped as she was suddenly swung to the ground and just as quickly encircled by an armored wall of Kai soldiers. Their armor glinted dull and their eyes shone bright in the dying moon’s fading light.
She yelped as a hand pushed her to the ground. “Stay down, Your Highness!” a female voice commanded.
Ildiko didn’t protest as a chorus of twangs broke from the trees, followed by a volley of black splinters that arced into the lightening sky before falling toward them. She crouched, covering her head with her arms. Metal rang on metal as arrow points struck shield faces.
They were under attack, and what very little she could see from her lowered position behind the barricade of Kai protectors, they were pinned in place, unable to flee or even engage the enemies who sheltered in the trees.
That soon changed. Horse’s hooves echoed from the forest depths. They were joined by battle cries and screams of pain.
The road where they stood exploded into chaos. Men dressed for secrecy and ambush bolted into the open, pursued by newly arrived Kai cavalry in support of their brothers and sisters. The shield circle around Ildiko broke. She was jerked to her feet and came face to face with one of the Kai women she’d seen at the wedding. Brishen had introduced her as his cousin Anhuset. Those nacreous eyes stared at her unblinking. “Follow me, Highness. Step lively.”
Ildiko recognized the voice—and its authority—and sprinted alongside the woman until they reached the supply wagon.
Anhuset tugged her down. “Under the wagon, Highness. Stay out of sight and don’t move.”
She didn’t give Ildiko a chance to argue but bodily shoved her beneath the wagon frame. Ildiko dropped to her stomach. From her flattened vantage point, she saw mostly running feet. The Kai woman stayed close and was soon joined by three more of her compatriots.
Ildiko searched for Brishen in the melee as their party, no longer outnumbered, clashed with their attackers. She glimpsed him fighting back to back with another Kai warrior. They faced a group of bandits. Brishen’s partner fought with sword and shield. Brishen, however, fought as no Gauri nobleman ever would.
He wielded a small bearded axe in one hand and a hunting knife in the other. The knife’s blunt side was braced against the line of his forearm, the sharpened edge faced out. Brishen moved as all his kind did, quick and nimble as a cat. He slashed and stabbed with the knife, cut and cleaved with the axe, using the beard to hook his opponent off his feet.
Ildiko prayed for his safety, for all their safety. She abruptly lost sight of him as a wave of bandits rushed her guardians. Anhuset answered with an eerie war cry. She and her companions leapt at their attackers. Ildiko huddled behind one of the wagon wheels and peered between the spokes.
She wanted to help, but she knew nothing of combat and was already a hindrance to those who would guard her. Except for her eating knife tucked into her belt pouch, she was weaponless. The best she could do was follow Anhuset’s instructions: stay out of sight and out of the way.
Her heart pounded in her ribs, and she tasted the bitter flavor of fear on her tongue. She gasped when something grabbed her ankle and yanked. Ildiko clutched the spokes and stared over her shoulder. She screamed at the sight of a bandit, filthy, bedraggled and splashed with blood, clawing his way up her skirts.
She kicked at him, managing to clip him in the chin. He jerked back with a howl before lunging at her a second time. Ildiko scuttled on her backside and elbows from the wagon’s compromised shelter.
She stumbled to her feet and found herself standing in the middle of the battle. Her Kai protectors fought and wrestled with the enemy, unaware Ildiko’s hiding spot had been discovered. She lifted her hem, prepared to run, though she had no idea which way she’d go. The bandit who had attacked her made the decision for her when he rounded the wagon and stalked her, waving a knife and sporting a leer that promised a gruesome death.
Ildiko pivoted on her heel to flee in the opposite direction. She never got the chance. A draft of air buffeted the side of her face and fluttered strands of her hair. A dull crack sounded behind her, and she turned to watch her stalker fall to his knees, an axe blade sunk deep in his forehead. His eyes were wide—fixed—as if he didn’t quite believe Death had found him so suddenly, before he fell backward and lay still in the dirt.
Ildiko whipped around to find Brishen running toward her. He grabbed her one-armed around the waist and lifted her off her feet, never breaking stride as he ran for safety. “Not the wedding present I intended for you, wife,” he said on shortened breaths. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
CHAPTER SIX
They lost only three in the attack. Brishen considered it three too many, and the sorrow over their deaths weighed heavily on his mind. The first, Kroshag, had been the middle son of the royal family’s steward and one of the first to volunteer under Brishen’s command. Neima, the second to fall beneath a fatal arrow shot, had obsessed all the way from Haradis to Pricid over the challenge of dowering twin daughters. Her children would marry without their mother’s presence now.
Brishen grieved hardest for Talumey. Young, eager to show his worth, loyal to a fault, he’d nearly turned himself inside out with excitement at being chosen as part of the prince’s personal escort to the Gauri capital. Brishen promised himself he’d personally deliver Talumey’s mortem light to his mother.
He abandoned his melancholy thoughts when Anhuset approached him. The spread of a blinding dawn backlit her form and bathed the dead behind her in citrine light.
Anhuset’s mouth was set in a tight line, and she stared at him with narrowed eyes. Brishen leapt back, shocked when she fell to her knees before him. The activity in the road camp ceased. All fell silent.
She bowed her head and offered her sword to him with both hands. “I have failed you, Your Highness. My life is forfeit as is my mortem light.” She spoke to the ground in a voice thick with shame.
Brishen gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”
Anhuset’s head remained bowed, the sword still offered. “I was tasked to protect the hercegesé. I failed. Were it not for you, she’d be dead.”
Brishen scowled. His cousin had obviously tapped into the small cask of spirits stowed away on the supply wagon; otherwise he couldn’t fathom how she’d arrived at such a ridiculous conclusion. He had been the one who saved Ildiko from her attacker, but through no fault of Anhuset’s. She was a fighter of exceptional prowess, respected throughout their military forces for her bravery and her skill, but she was not the goddess of war.
She and the two Kai who guarded Ildiko at the wagon had been overwhelmed by the number of bandits attacking them. They’d fought hard and fought well but were heavily outnumbered. There was no way Anhuset could have spotted the man sneaking under the wagon without turning her back on her opponents and having her head separated from her shoulders for the effort.
He stared down at her, noting the way her silvery hair shimmered with the light of the sun instead of the moon. He turned and found Ildiko a small distance from him, sitting on a tree stump, heavy-eyed and slumped with fatigue. A guard of grim-faced Kai surrounded her, weapons drawn and at the ready.
“Ildiko.” She raised her head wearily. “Come here, please,” he said in Common tongue.
She rose, dusted off her skirts and joined him in front of the kneeling Anhuset. She frowned as heavily at the sight as he had. “What’s wrong?”
He gestured to Anhuset who still refused to look up from the ground. “My lieutenant wishes for me to execute her for failing to protect you.”
“Wh
at?”
Brishen didn’t need to understand all the finer subtleties of Gauri expressions. Ildiko’s exclamation was telling enough. She was aghast at the idea. He had no intention of killing his cousin, especially for a nonexistent offense, and his was the final word in the matter. Still, Kai protocol demanded his role in Anhuset’s fate be a secondary, albeit final one.
Ildiko sputtered, her peculiar gaze flitting back and forth between him and the silent Anhuset. “That’s just sil—” She clamped her lips closed before she completed the word, for which Brishen was thankful. He agreed with his wife that Anhuset’s request was silly, but his cousin’s pride was great, and he’d seen her shoulders stiffen at Ildiko’s shuttered remark.
“Anhuset believes she has failed in her duty to me by not protecting you from the man who found you beneath the wagon.” Brishen kept his voice and expression bland. “However, the alleged offense isn’t against me. You are the one most affected by her actions. What say you? Do you perceive insult and wish for punishment?”
Ildiko’s eyebrows arched, and she tilted her head in such a way that he easily translated her silent Are you serious about this? He nodded, and she rolled her eyes. A mass shudder rippled through every Kai witnessing the exchange between them.
Ildiko paused for several moments before speaking. “I find no offense. She did her duty and protected me from those who meant us all harm. There were many bandits; there was only one Anhuset.” She flashed an equine smile. “Who fought better than three Gauri.”
Murmurs of approval and agreement rose amongst the Kai. Anhuset stood, her chin raised. Brishen caught the glimmer of growing respect in his cousin’s eyes. She nudged her sword toward Ildiko. “I still offer you my sword, Your Highness.”
Ildiko waved it away. “I’m honored, but that would be a waste of good steel. You can certainly put it to better use than I could. I’d likely slice off one of my fingers or toes. Keep it for when you have to act my guard again.”