Her remark put to rest any hesitation he might have harbored about taking the long way through contested territory. It spoke volumes that the fierce Anhuset wasn't keen on journeying into the eerily silent city the queen called Tineroth.
He was done with ghosts and galla, and his feet craved solid ground. “You boasted you're a fast swimmer.” He gave Anhuset an arch look, grinning a slow grin when she returned it. “But how fast can you run?”
“Faster than you, margrave,” she scoffed.
“Care to wager on that?”
“Any time, any place,” she said and launched into a sprint for the spot where Erostis and Klanek waited.
Serovek raced after her, uncaring if he lost a handful of coin to her, relieved to leave behind the dead and the grim words of their monarch.
“A dark song is your spirit, Wraith king, a hymn of the broken.”
Chapter Eight
Not so ugly this morning.
Anhuset lay on her back looking up at a star-studded sky as she worried a dirty silk ribbon between her thumb and forefinger. She preferred being on guard duty, but she obeyed Serovek's edict that the four of them would take short shifts through the night so they were all mostly rested and alert during the day. No more napping on her horse while they rode through contested territory.
Despite the stains and fraying edges, the ribbon still slid smoothly between her fingers. One of her companions was asleep, the second tending the fire, and Serovek himself taking this round of the watch. None would see her stroking the ribbon.
She'd rescued it from a burial in the mud when the herb bundle it wound around had fallen to the ground by one of the wagon wheels. Arms full of newly purchased supplies, she'd stared at the cluster before nudging it out of the way with one foot. Once she loaded supplies into the wagon, she scooped up the bundle. The trailing ends of the ribbon binding the herbs together had once been a pristine white before the fall in the mud had stained them brown. Serovek's words spoken in affectionate tones as he recalled wife Glaurin and her preference for ribbons echoed in her mind.
“She was proud. Beautiful. Long hair that she wore tied back with silk ribbons.”
She'd stared at the ribbon, finally unwinding it. The ruined herbs went by the wayside and the ribbon into the pouch she kept on her belt. Guard duty had provided her the privacy to fidget with the ribbon, first to try weaving it into her hair under the heaviest locks where no one could see it. Her attempts met with failure, and she'd hurled the ribbon away, only to rescue it from the thorns of a berry bush. Serovek was right. She'd do a much better job of strangling someone with the ribbon than decorating her hair. She was no Glaurin Pangion, proud and lovely. She was sha-Anhuset, proud and fierce.
Since then, she'd kept the ribbon in the pouch until she was alone, using it like prayer beads instead of hair ornament. She didn't pray, but the ribbon's silky feel on her fingertips relaxed her. Tonight she hoped it might lull her into a quick nap.
“Whatever you're worrying between your fingers, Anhuset, it's a wonder your claws haven't shredded it yet.”
A quick sleight of hand and she shoved the ribbon into her tunic sleeve. Serovek, relieved of guard duty by Erostis, approached her, his smile deepening the lines in his face, lending his handsome features an even greater attractiveness. Anhuset lurched upright, the breath trapped in her throat at the horror of that thought.
Serovek's smile slid away. He paused in front of her. “What's wrong? You look like you've just seen a galla.”
She scrambled for some explanation for her action and settled on changing the topic. “Is it my turn for guard duty? I wasn't asleep.” A poor save, and one that made Serovek arch an eyebrow.
“No, you're after Erostis. Remember? Then Klanek after you.”
“Shouldn't you try and get to sleep now that your watch is done?” He saw entirely too much. The last thing she wanted was for him to ask to see what she'd just tucked out of sight. The image of his knowing expression made her cringe inside.
“I will soon enough. I saw you were still awake and couldn't resist seeking out your sunny company.” He winked, not waiting for an invitation before sitting beside her.
Not long ago, she would have snarled at him for his teasing, flummoxed by his humor and overt flirting. Now she simply reclined back on her elbows and stretched out her legs. “I've been accused of many character flaws. That one's a first.”
He grinned, the creases etched into his skin at the corners of his eyes fanning wide. “You do make me smile, firefly woman. I'll sorely miss this when our journey is over and we part ways.”
I'll miss it too, she thought. To admit aloud she might miss his company was even worse than accepting it internally. No one, Kai or human, had ever affected her the way this Beladine nobleman did, and it terrified her. She didn't want to like him, and gods forbid she desire him!
She changed the subject once more. “Our history doesn't have a record of a city called Tineroth, at least not that I'm aware of. Not unusual as those ghosts were human, and the Kai have little interest in the affairs of humans unless they affect the Kai.”
“I've never heard of Tineroth either. A city that size reached by a bridge of such grandiose size and design would be well-known by those living in the area and appear on every map, even as ruins. Care to wager that if we returned there tomorrow, both would be gone?”
After the events on the bridge, there'd been no debate over whether or not to journey through the territories plagued by Chamtivos and his band of raiders. It was a dangerous route, but no one wanted to attempt a crossing through the haunted city, not even Erostis or Klanek, who'd only seen some of what occurred on the bridge.
“You already lost our bet over who was fastest across the bridge,” she scoffed. “Are you trying to beggar yourself to me with these bets?”
He chortled. “I have a feeling I'd win this particular wager. That city was no more anchored to earth than the mist covering it.”
She agreed. “And exactly why I won't take that bet.” In other circumstances she might not have beaten him across the ravine. Serovek was a big man, but also a surprisingly fast one. Still, after hearing phantom humans chant ancient bast-Kai in sepulchral voices, she'd practically sprouted wings in her eagerness to get far away from the restless dead.
Serovek left her for a moment, returning from his sleeping spot with his pipe. “Care to join me?” He held up the pipe in offer.
She declined, content to watch him prepare the pipe for smoking. There was something about his actions that soothed her, and she turned on her side to face him.
He had good hands, deft in everything they did, from controlling a horse and wielding a sword to extracting a bodkin point from her shoulder and snapping a man's neck as punishment for the crime of murder. His fingers were straight, with short, clean nails. She'd known the feel of those hands clasped with hers, on her shoulders in a stable after Magas nipped her. What would it be like to have that strong, capable touch on other parts of her body? Did he seduce his lovers with a caress that promised even greater pleasure? The stars above winked back at her but offered no insight or answers.