by Grace Draven
They engaged in a silent battle until Anhuset exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I give you my promise not to say anything about this to him unless he asks.” She scowled. “You’ve the skill of a Kai courtier, Your Highness. Able to twist reason to suit your purpose.”
Ildiko recognized the mild insult within the compliment but took no offense. “Well at least, there is some commonality between our two peoples.”
The two women held an uneasy truce between them, and Ildiko’s prayers were answered when Brishen regained his lucidity without any recollection of striking out at his wife while in the throes of delirium. There had been more than one moment when Anhuset practically vibrated with the temptation to blurt out something, but she held her tongue and busied herself with organizing the evening travel plans with Mertok.
“Ildiko? Where are you, wife?”
Ildiko blinked, brought back to the present by Brishen waving a hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry. I was daydreaming. Or would that be nightdreaming now?” She smiled, then remembered his first question. “Not grim thoughts. Just a curiosity. When you were sick with the mortem fever, you confused your mother with Talumey’s mother. Anhuset said yours doesn’t smile often.”
She left her question unspoken, giving him an escape if he chose not to expand on Anhuset’s remark. Instead, he leaned back in the saddle, his wide shoulders relaxed. “My cousin is right. The queen isn’t one to smile. If she does, then you look for the knife wielded from the shadows.”
Ildiko gaped at Brishen. He’d described his mother in such a mild voice, as if the murderous tendencies he hinted at were no more interesting or threatening than if she had an obsessive love for orange slippers. “Are you serious?”
“Quite,” he said in that same neutral tone. “I doubt my father has slept a full night with both eyes closed since he married her.”
Ildiko shuddered inwardly at the prospect of meeting her new mother-in-law. Her aunt had been a force to be reckoned with. Haughty, self-important and devious, Fantine had been a master strategist, manipulating the many Gauri court machinations with a skilled hand. King Sangur; however, trusted his wife wouldn’t kill him while he slept. Obviously, the same couldn’t be said of the Kai king and his lethal queen.
“I’m not looking forward to meeting your mother, Your Highness.” A few soft snorts of laughter sounded from the Kai soldiers riding nearby. Ildiko met Brishen’s wry gaze. “Should I wear this breastplate when we’re introduced?”
Brishen’s teeth were like ivory daggers in the darkness. “I’ll protect you. Besides, she won’t harm you. She’s too enamored with the idea that I’ve been forced to take a human to wife. If there’s one thing Secmis loves more than plotting an assassination, it’s watching misery.” He nudged his horse closer to hers and leaned in. “Be sure to act completely disgusted with me and bitter at your fate,” he said softly. “She’ll make sure we’re in each other’s constant company.”
Ildiko’s thoughts reeled. One thing was certain—she wouldn’t be bored. Staying one step ahead of her malevolent mother-in-law would take all her wits and focus. How a viper of a woman as Brishen described managed to raise such a jovial, affectionate man flummoxed Ildiko.
“You must take after your father in temperament,” she said.
The humorous snorts from earlier turned into outright guffaws. Brishen’s grin widened. “Hardly. My mother sleeps with one eye open as well.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Ildiko. You’ll understand more about my parents when you meet them. I’m counting on you giving me your honest impressions afterwards. I suspect they will be entertaining.”
Ildiko didn’t return his grin. He might find all this quite funny; she found it terrifying. She stiffened her back and clutched the reins in a tight grip. Her new in-laws may be a deadly pair, but she refused to be intimidated.
“I doubt we’re much different from any other royal family out there, human or Kai.” Brishen edged his horse closer to hers. “We marry to strengthen our positions, hold our power, acquire more land and provide heirs for the throne. A business arrangement in every way.” His features sobered, the grin fading. “If we’re lucky, we find an amiable companion in our spouses.”
His description applied perfectly to the royal family in which Ildiko was raised. Her parents’ love for each other had been an anomaly rarely seen among the Gauri aristocracy and not witnessed at all in Sangur and Fantine’s immediate family. Marriage was business and politics. Affection and bedsport were usually reserved for mistresses or the occasional lover.
“And mistresses?” she said. For some reason she chose not to dwell on, a discordant internal note thrummed inside at her at the idea of Brishen having a mistress.
One black eyebrow rose. “What about them?”
“Do you have a dozen or so?” Ildiko raised her chin at the twitch of laughter that played across his mouth. It was a perfectly legitimate question. Her cousins’ husbands each had a mistress and a bevy of bastard children. Her uncle, the king, kept a prima dulce named Annais, for which Queen Fantine was eternally grateful.
Brishen lost the battle not to smile. “A dozen? I doubt I could deal with one.” He shifted into a more comfortable spot on the saddle. “Besides, I have a Gauri wife to comfort me. Why take a mistress?”
His answer puzzled Ildiko. “But that isn’t the role of a mistress.”
“Isn’t it? I think we all seek companionship, wife. Sometimes it’s physical; sometimes it’s much more.” An odd flicker danced in his eyes, and like his grin before, his smile faded. “Loneliness is an empty void. We look for that friend in the light.” His glowing eyes squinted a little, deepening the laugh lines at their corners. “Or in the case of humans, in the dark.”
Brishen stopped his horse for a second time and tugged Ildiko’s reins to halt her mount as well. He must have given an unseen signal because the Kai riding with them widened the space around them to afford more privacy.
“What is it?” she said. “What’s wrong?”
His gaze pressed down on Ildiko. Not the smothering weight of a too-heavy blanket in summer but more like an embrace that invited affection. Not for the first time, she desperately wished she could read his eyes, see past the luminescence to the equally bright soul behind it.
“Will you be that for me, Ildiko,” he said. “That beacon in the void?”
Ildiko’s heart cracked. Loneliness had been her most constant companion, the silent shadow that hovered over her for years. If there was one thing she understood, it was the emptiness of the internal void. Her reply might not make sense to him now, but she’d explain later when they were alone.
She reached out, fingers tracing the herringbone pattern of his chainmail sleeve. “The void is vast, like the sea at night and no land in sight. I’ll be the beacon, Brishen.”
He captured her hand and kissed her palm. His lips were cool on her skin. “My parents will loathe you, wife.” Ildiko felt all the blood drain from her face. Brishen’s smile returned. “Don’t be afraid. That’s a good thing. They’ve hated me since birth. They only like those they can crush.”
He looked as if he’d say more but was interrupted by sharp cries and excited yips from the other Kai. Ildiko tried to understand the rapid stream of unfamiliar words flowing between the soldiers, but all she could catch was “Haradis,” and “gate.” She turned to Brishen. “What are they saying?” His reply birthed a legion of butterflies in her belly.
“Beyond that slope is Bast-Haradis and the capital. Welcome to my kingdom, Ildiko of the Kai.”
CHAPTER TEN
Brishen escorted Ildiko down the long corridor that lead to the throne room. She held onto his arm, her fingers digging furrows into his skin, even through his vambrace. It was the only sign of her anxiety, besides her ashen pallor. She wore a serene expression, and her steps were sure and steady in the hallway’s darkness.
Ildiko had grown quieter the closer they got to Haradis and gone completely silent whe
n they topped the ridge that looked down on the dimly lit city nestled in a small valley ringed by gently rolling hills. She’d answered his questions with nods or shakes of her head, and every once in a while a short yes or no. He could smell the fear rolling off her.
“You’re not alone in this, Ildiko,” he reassured her for the dozenth time. Before their trek to the throne room, she simply nodded. This time she turned to him, her face wiped clean of expression.
“This is the kingdom of Bast-Haradis, Brishen. I’m human. Here, I am alone.”
He halted and she with him. Brishen gazed at his human wife, touching on the colorful hair and strange eyes, the pale skin with its ever-changing shades that were subject to her moods. His soldiers’ reactions to her would be nothing compared to those of the Kai court. Insular for so long, most of the nobility had rarely seen a human. Those who had, barely remembered. They’d stare and whisper amongst themselves and do so, so much worse than that.
Brishen wanted to protect her, shield her from the inevitable trial of meeting not only the vipers amongst the court but those who ruled them—his parents. He was powerless to do so. She’d have to face them all, one human amongst a people who once considered all her kind food. But she wouldn’t do it alone.
He reached for her free hand. “You are also a princess of the blood through marriage, a member of the royal family. My wife. Every Kai in that room owes you their allegiance and respect. I will cut out any tongue that would try and besmirch you, Ildiko.” He pressed his lips to her palm.
The tiniest crack appeared in her serene composure. Her mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “Or bury an axe blade in their heads?”
His guilt over his inability to rescue her from his own family eased a little at her humor. “I’m adept with spear and sword as well. Just name who you want me to skewer for you.”
Ildiko’s smile widened. “Not the best approach I think to winning supporters.” She inhaled a long breath before slowly letting it out. “I can do this, but you must promise not to let go of my hand, even if I’m breaking your fingers.”
Brishen gently pulled her into his embrace. She felt fragile in his arms—barely more than shadow wrapped around slender bones and clothed in Gauri silks. “I promise.”
“I will not shame you with my fear, Brishen,” she whispered against his neck.
He sighed into her hair. “But I might shame you with mine, wife.” He stroked her back and offered a last bit of advice before they made their introductions to the court. “They are only serpents, Ildiko. Crush them beneath your heel.”
He led her the rest of the way to the ornately carved double doors guarded by a pair of soldiers. The sentinels bowed, their faces as closed and expressionless as Ildiko’s was now. The doors swung open, revealing a cavernous chamber with tall ceilings, walls decorated in tapestry and weaponry and lined by statues of ancient Kai kings and queens—all lit by wavering torchlight.
Brishen barely registered its grandeur. He’d grown up in this palace. The hall had looked like this since before his grandfather was born and probably long before that. Instead, he focused on the pair of figures watching them from the thrones elevated on a platform reached by a set of nine steps.
The silence greeting him and Ildiko gave way to a rising din of voices, a steady buzzing that grew in volume like the approach of a locust swarm. There were shocked gasps, comments about the Gauri woman’s terrifying eyes and strange face, expressions of pity for him.
Ildiko might not understand most of what was said, but it didn’t take a fluency in the Kai language to know her appearance was causing a stir. Like him, she kept her gaze trained on the king and queen. Her fingers were icicles on his.
“Steady,” he said under his breath.
They stopped at the first step leading to the thrones. Brishen tugged lightly on Ildiko’s hand and they both genuflected.
Brishen addressed the floor. “Your Majesties, I am your humble servant. I present my bride, Ildiko, niece of the king of Gaur, Sangur the Lame. Now hercegesé to me.”
The throne room had grown silent once more, pulsing with anticipation as Brishen and Ildiko waited on their knees.
“You may rise.” King Djedor’s sepulchral voice echoed throughout the chamber. His eyes were nearly white with advanced age, and the gray skin hung on his facial bones like sodden garments clipped to strung line. “I’m told the powers in Belawat tried to have you killed to show their disapproval of this marriage.”
Brishen knew his father well enough to know that as soon as this introduction was concluded, he’d be summoned to his father’s council chamber for a full accounting of the attack. He shrugged. “We killed them all but lost three of our own. Our companions fought bravely. I carry the mortem light of one.”
Another murmuring buzz passed through the crowd of courtiers lining either side of the throne room. Brishen had done the family of the fallen soldier a great honor. The king’s expression didn’t alter at the revelation. Brishen had expected nothing more. His father had never expressed either approval or disapproval of his younger son’s actions. They had no bearing on the throne or line of succession; therefore they were of no importance.
He did turn a curious gaze to Ildiko. “I remember the first time I saw a human. A man. The women are even uglier.”
A titter of laughter passed through the crowd and just as quickly died when Brishen turned to note who laughed. Ildiko’s fingers twitched in his grasp.
Djedor’s wrinkled lips stretched into a grin, revealing teeth gone as black with age as his eyes had gone white. Brishen braced his shoulder against Ildiko’s to keep her from lurching backwards. The king turned to his silent wife. “What think you of your new daughter, Secmis?”
The queen, beautiful and as youthful as the day she married her husband, stared first at her son and then at her Gauri daughter. Unlike her husband, she spoke the Common tongue so Ildiko would understand everything she said. “Welcome to Haradis, Ildiko Hercegesé. I hope you can find your place here. My son has sacrificed a great deal to marry a human woman and seal our alliance with the Gauri.”
Her lip had curled as she spoke, and though her voice was even, Secmis didn’t bother hiding her contempt for Brishen’s wife.
Brishen fancied he heard Ildiko’s back crack as she stiffened next to him. She yanked her fingers out of his grasp and advanced to the second step, shoulders back, chin raised in a haughty manner that challenged the queen’s own arrogance. A collective gasp rose among the watching nobility.
Brishen dropped his hand to his sword pommel. Gods forbid he’d have to slash his way out of the throne room to prevent his mother from killing his wife, but he’d do so if necessary. He balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to grab Ildiko and run.
Her own voice was calm, lacking disdain but sure and uncowed. “What sacrifices would those be, Your Majesty? I see only a groom returned home with a bride after an admittedly dangerous trip. He bears no wounds, no scars, and possesses all his limbs. I haven’t yet had the time to henpeck him to death.”
This time the crowd’s laughter was disguised by splutters and bouts of coughing. Brishen didn’t know whether to groan or applaud. Ildiko’s wit would gain her either respect or a writ of execution.
Secmis’s golden eyes narrowed. “You mock me?”
“No, Your Majesty. That would be rude.” Ildiko gave a brief bow. “I wish merely to understand my husband’s sacrifice. He will live among his own people. I cannot bear him children, but the line of succession is secured many times over. He cannot marry a Kai woman, but if the Kai court is anything like the Gauri court, his union with me won’t prevent him from having a mistress. Several if he wishes. If he can’t bear the sight of me, we can talk in the daylight when he doesn’t see so well. Then I can argue the sacrifice is mine, not his.”
Secmis’s skin, the color of unpolished steel, darkened even more. Her eyes blazed brighter than all the torches in the throne room combined. She half rose from her seat, long finge
rs curled. Had Ildiko stood in front of her, she would have been disemboweled.
Brishen had partially drawn his sword from its sheath when the king let out a bellowing laugh. Secmis turned a glare on him hot enough to set his robes alight. He ignored her and slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. “She’s ugly, my boy, but fearless too. You could have done worse.” He motioned to the doors. “Get her out of here before your mother orders her beheading.” He flashed black fangs at Ildiko. “You’ll manage well enough, Gauri woman. I look forward to our next meeting.”
The return trek to the doors seemed a thousand miles and as many years away. Brishen strangled the urge to sprint for safety with Ildiko in his arms and kept them both to a stately walk. Once the doors closed behind them, they maintained their pace until they were out of sight and earshot of the guards.
Brishen pivoted to stand in front of Ildiko. Even the ashen color to her skin had bled away, leaving her pale as bleached bone. Her eyes were wide and black with terror. She took a step toward him before her knees gave out. He caught her in his arms and held her close.
“Well done, Hercegesé! You’ve faced down my mother and pleased my father. Not a Kai in that room will cross you now.”
She shuddered against him, her body as icy as her fingers had been. He heard the rapid chatter of her teeth before she clenched her jaw and drew steady breaths. Once she calmed, she leaned far enough away from him to meet his gaze.
“I’ve made an enemy of your mother,” she said in a mournful voice.
“Everyone is Secmis’s enemy, wife. You’ve just made yourself a worthy one in her eyes.”
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
He kissed her forehead. “No, you’re going to eat. We still have a formal dinner to suffer through in a few hours.”
“Gods help me,” she muttered.
“You’ll need it,” he cheerfully replied.