Anhuset bit back a laugh. She understood what he implied. If she couldn't swim, he'd have to carry her across, and if he did, they were in imminent danger of drowning. If she were to guess, she probably equaled Serovek in weight, and while he was impressively strong, carting another person across deep, fast-running water presented significant risk for both. “I'm an excellent swimmer.”
His wide shoulders drooped in relief and his square teeth flashed white with his smile. “Is that a boast?”
She sniffed. “It's a fact, margrave. I'll even challenge you to a race across if you wish and promise not to tell your men that you lost. Badly.”
His laughter carved the lines at the corners of his eyes a touch deeper. “As cold as that water promises to be, I wager I can walk on it just to keep from freezing my balls off.”
Anhuset was growing to enjoy the look of his amusement. The sound of it too. It teased but didn't mock. She'd never known him to be cruel, though she'd witnessed his ruthlessness firsthand when he'd sentenced a brigand to die and carried out the execution himself without hesitation. Those who mistook his jovial manner as a weakness took their life in their hands.
She never made such a mistake with anyone, but she'd underestimated Serovek Pangion and the power of his charm. He was a man she could admire at every level. She didn't want to feel this way. Not for anyone.
“The Absu won't get any warmer with us standing here,” she said abruptly, ignoring the puzzlement flitting across his face at her sudden gruff tone. She bent to remove her boots and strip off her clothing. Soon, she was bare to the wind and sun, with chill bumps covering every bit of skin. Her nipples ached from the cold, and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. A strangled sound reached her ears, and she paused from stuffing her clothing deep into the oilskin she carried to catch Serovek peeling off his trousers, leaving him as naked as she.
He was an impressive sight. Muscular and long-legged. A big man with a physique hardened by years of martial training and horsemanship. Her gaze drifted over him, stopping at his groin to stare admiringly at his endowments. “So the rumors were accurate,” she said bluntly. “I wondered. And doubted.”
He exhaled a combination of a cough and startled laughter before clearing his throat. “Did you now? I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating. You're refreshingly forthright.”
The heat of a blush suffused her skin, chasing away the cold. She'd never been one to mince words, but there were times when it was better to keep one's thoughts to oneself. This was probably one of those times. But what was said was said, and she couldn't roll back time. “I don't know how else to be, Stallion.”
“And I'm grateful for it,” he replied. He swept a hand down his torso. “If it were warmer...well, you aren't seeing me at my best.” He winked.
“I've seen you at your best.” Her tongue had taken on a life of its own, refusing to heed the command of her brain which shouted at her to shut up. “On the summit of a tor, as an eidolon returned from battling demons, in a fight with those who tortured my liege. The gods were generous with you, but that isn't what elevates you or any man.”
With that said, and the fires of mortification still singing through her blood, she didn't wait for an answer or rebuttal. Instead, she lifted her pack and shoes, inhaled a bracing breath and waded into the river.
All thoughts of Serovek's naked beauty fled her mind at the first lap of the Absu's icy caress on her skin. Every Kai curse word she'd learned from childhood to present day poured from her lips in a stuttering stream as she swam across the narrow channel, keeping the arm holding her gear above her head. Behind her, a litany of snarling Beladine invectives filled the air as the margrave joined her.
The Absu's waters were numbingly cold, never warming even after their vigorous swim. Once out of the water, Serovek shook like a drenched dog, scattering a shower of water droplets in every direction. “Fuck, it's cold,” he declared through chattering teeth, accompanied by a shiver as he sloughed more water off his skin with his hands. His hair hung in a dripping horse's tail over one shoulder. The bracing cold had washed his complexion of any ruddiness. Anhuset found him almost attractive.
They hurriedly dressed in the still-dry clothes dug from their oilcloth packs. She almost groaned aloud at the blissful feel of thick dry wool wrapped around her. She'd left her cloak with her gear in favor of a padded tunic and a small cap she now pulled down over her chilly ears. It did nothing to shield her from the afternoon sun's brightness, but they'd be in the forest shade soon. She'd just have to squint until then.
Serovek fastened on his second boot and stood. He flexed one foot, frowning. “I think my toes have frozen together. At least we won't have to swim on the return trip.”
“We don't have much sunlight left. We'll need to walk to warm up.” Her back teeth clacked across her words. He was right. It was fucking cold, and standing about complaining wasn't going to make things any better. She did as he had, drying her feet and slipping on her boots before setting off toward the line of trees standing sentinel in front of them. Behind their shield wall, lay a sun-dappled trek through a dense understory and beyond that, Haradis.
Serovek fell into step beside her, still shivering. He carried a long knife in one gloved hand and used the other to help clear a path. She carried a similar knife, the weapon serving as both slayer and scythe if needed. They cut through a barrier of crackling thorn bushes, still dry and brown from the last days of a clinging winter. “It's a good thing we aren't hunting or being hunted,” she muttered. “We're making more noise than a herd of cattle, and I left enough blood on those thorns to paint a portrait.”
The woodland twilight offered respite from the sun, drawing upon itself a deeper darkness as the day waned. Anhuset was grateful for the shade and not having to squint. She glanced at her companion, noting that he now squinted in an effort to make clear those things made obscure by the gloom. “We're closer to Haradis,” she said. “I'm familiar with this area and can put us on an easier path than this one.”
“By all means, take the lead,” he said, gesturing for her to stride in front of him. “The darker it gets, the harder it'll be for me to see. I never thought I'd be in a hurry to return to Haradis, but I don't need to slow us down by stumbling my way through the woods half blind.”
He was Beladine, raised in a society where women rarely held a leadership role, and she'd expected him to offer some token resistance to her leading the way. He did not, and she was glad for it and his practicality. At least there'd be no foolish arguing over who enjoyed the questionable privilege of being first to carve their way through a spiky bramble thicket.
Darkness had descended fully by the time she caught sight of the closest tower that flanked one side of Haradis's main gate. It rose above the treeline like a spear point, the small windows near the top nothing more than black spots from which no lamplight shone.
“The woodland breathes softly,” Serovek said in quiet tones. “And carefully, as if it either waits for something to come forth or hopes it passes by once it finally does.” The slight change in the way he held the cane knife alerted Anhuset to his rising caution.