She'd forgotten about that injury. “Courtesy of one of Chamtivos's henchmen. I head-butted his face after he pissed on me.”
This time Serovek's ferocious scowl defied any pain he might have suffered from the expression. “He's first on my list to kill then.”
“You'd have to wait your turn behind me,” she said. “Besides, Chamtivos already did it. Cut the lout's throat for causing trouble and mistreating what Chamtivos considered his property.” That statement made her want to tear the warlord's arms off. And his legs for good measure.
Serovek regarded her, trading his frown for a half smile. “Battered and pissed on, you're still beautiful.”
“And I didn't think you could get any uglier.”
His smile grew, accompanied by a wince. “Does this mean I can't coax you under me?”
“The beating has made you delirious. I doubt you can even stand at the moment.” Her mind recognized his jesting, but her body reacted otherwise, sending a hot blush flowing under her skin. Her heart, barely slowed after the climb, resumed its previous heavy beat.
Serovek waved a hand in a careless motion. “Some bruises, a few cracked ribs. They didn't geld me.”
“Don't think the idea didn't occur to them. And you didn't mention the black eyes. Your nose is broken too. You're in no shape for a swiving.”
He snorted. “I'm beaten, not dead. I'd suggest you be on top, but you weigh as much as my horse. You'll break the rest of my bones those shit maggots didn't get to.” A chuff of laughter escaped her. “Ah, there it is,” he marveled, as if he'd turned back a threadbare cloth to reveal a valuable jewel.
“There's what?” Her question was rhetorical. She knew to what he referred.
“Your smile. There's no finer sight than a smile from sha-Anhuset, unless it's a smiling, naked Anhuset.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Anhuset rolled her eyes. “Feeling better by the moment, I see.”
She sat down next to him, watching as he turned his head to take in their surroundings. His amusement was gone, the jovial manner with it. “What happened to the others? Klanek, Erostis?” His voice dropped. “Megiddo?” He listened without interruption as she recounted the events from the attack until their current predicament and Chamtivos's plans to hunt them the following day.
“You've made an enemy of your steward it seems. He hates you enough to pay a fortune for your death and planned it over time I'm guessing.”
His heavy sigh spoke of regret, sorrow, even a touch of embarrassment. “Bryzant has been my steward for a decade. It's never a joy to learn you've nursed a viper at your breast. He's capable and intelligent, but he needed help to execute this plan from a distance.”
“Ogran?”
He nodded. “You were right to be suspicious of him.”
It was her turn to sigh. “One of a few times when I wish I'd been wrong.”
“He was a useful puppet. Not smart enough to coordinate such a plan on his own, and he gains nothing from my death, but show him enough coin, and he could be persuaded. Bryzant, on the other hand, has some things in common with Chamtivos. A younger son without inheritance or prospects beyond his service in my household. He was ambitious and above all, patient. And he lacked Chamtivos's predilection for killing off family members. If he paid the warlord, he did so from funds taken out of my treasury. I might find it amusing if you weren't part of his machinations. Or Megiddo and my soldiers for that matter.”
“Did he tell you he plans to ransom Megiddo to the Jeden Order?”
He pressed a hand to his left side. “Every time his dogs used their fists on me.”
For now, there was little she could do to alleviate his discomfort, nor could she stay here with him much longer. They needed water, and she needed to scout the island, learn what the terrain held in store and discover any hiding places or defensible spots they could exploit in preparation for tomorrow's ordeal.
“I'll have to leave you here for an hour or two while I search the area. There's no avoiding it.” She handed him the eating knife Karulin had sneaked to her.
Serovek's mouth fell open. “They missed a knife on you?”
“Not mine,” she said. “Chamtivos's second-in-command. The two are at odds. Karulin is a decent sort if you don't count attacking travelers and holding them hostage for ransom money. And compared to Chamtivos, he's sweetness, light, and sanity. He left the knife on purpose. It was either an act of rebellion or one of betrayal.”
“It seems loyalty is hard to come by these days, no matter who you are,” Serovek said in wry tones. He tried to return the knife to her. “Take it with you. You don't know what you'll cross in your exploration.”
She pushed it back to him. “I have ten claws, sharp teeth, and can take down anything with the aid of a sturdy stick. I'm well armed. You need the knife more than I do.”
“I've no argument for any of that,” he replied.
She stood and brushed dirt off her trousers. “Good. Less time wasted.” A thought occurred to her. She needed some way to know if he was in trouble while she was gone. “Can you whistle?”
His brow creased in frown lines and he pursed his mouth. A clear, near perfect mimic of a flycatcher's song filled the air, carrying through the trees where a chorus of bird calls answered with full-throated enthusiasm.
“Impressive,” Anhuset said without a drop of sarcasm when he stopped.
“And hurts worse than being kicked in the balls.” Serovek pressed a hand to his mouth. “If you're wanting me to whistle a tune for you before you go, forget it.”
She resisted the urge to once more comb his tangled hair back from his face with her fingers. “Tempting but no. Whistle if you're in trouble. Something like a two-three-two pattern so I'll know it's you and not some bundle of feathers courting a female.”
“Anhuset.” Serovek crooked a finger and she leaned closer, admiring his long dark lashes and the swoop of his eyebrows. His mouth beckoned her despite its bruising and the remnants of blood in its corners. “Be careful. I don't want to lose you.”
The words sent a bolt through her. Words not of lust or teasing but of deep affection for her, of fear for her. Anhuset almost replied she wasn't his to lose, but that was no longer true.
She, who'd never subscribed to delicacy of any type, stroked Serovek's swollen face in a delicate caress. “Worry not. I'll take care and return soon.”
Her trek down the slope, through the forested labyrinth was quicker than she anticipated. She didn't dwell on the question of whether she was leaving Serovek or fleeing from him.
Chapter Ten
A beautiful butterfly with the sting of a hornet.
There wasn't a bit of flesh on him that didn't hurt, and his insides didn't fare much better. Serovek had been in more than his share of fights in his lifetime and wore the scars as badges, but he'd never endured the kind of beating Chamtivos and his men had doled out to him. If he didn't piss blood or spit out a couple of teeth, he'd be amazed. If he and Anhuset lived through this fun little excursion the warlord had planned, he'd consider believing in merciful gods.