“Abbot,” the captain bellowed from below, “I don't have all day. Give us the margrave.”
Serovek jerked Anhuset in his arms and kissed her scowling mouth. She returned the kiss just as hard and was still scowling when he let her go. He joined Tionfa at the battlements, leaning out so those below could clearly see him. Anhuset's expletive-rich snarls about staying out of arrow range singed his ears. “Keep your boots on, man. I was just fetched from my bed. I'm coming down now.”
He retreated from the wall along with Tionfa and discovered Anhuset nearly standing on his heels.
“What do you want me to do?” she said.
I want you to become my wife and share my bed for the rest of our lives. Instead he gestured to the abbot. “Follow Tionfa's first suggestion. Use the back gate. Take Erostis with you. If Rodan's man asks, I'll say he didn't survive his wounds and his body was burned. Return to Saggara on Magas.” He'd turn himself over to his captors without struggle. Magas though was his and his only. “Rodan has always coveted him. He's out of a mare from Nadiza's lightning herd. The king doesn't get my stallion as a bonus.”
“He shouldn't be getting my stallion either.” She glared at him as if he were the one who instigated all of this.
A euphoric swoop of joy at her words bottomed out his stomach. He considered pulling her into his arms a second time but as that glare turned even hotter, he thought better of it. “So I'm yours now?”
Before she could blister his ears about the poor timing of his teasing, Tionfa interrupted, motioning to the hall where his escort waited. “Margrave.”
He and Anhuset followed them down the stairwell. They'd split off from each other at the bottom. “Tell Brishen to keep an eye on his borders and a tight net on any Kai raiders trying to cause trouble on the Beladine side,” he instructed her. “Rodan is just looking for an excuse.”
“And I'm just to forget about you being led off in shackles to face a traitor's fate?”
He wouldn't pay her the insult of patronizing her by saying all would be well. No one could predict such a thing. “That honeyed tongue you said I had? Not only useful in seducing a prickly Kai woman. The king knows my value to him. I'll talk my way out of this one.”
“You are far too sure yourself sometimes,” she said as they reached the last step and. This time it was she who grasped his arms as if trying to resist temptation and hold him prisoner herself.
He kissed her forehead and the frown there. When he pulled back, he smiled. “Maybe, but here you are in my arms, so I must be doing things the right way.”
Their goodbye kiss was as swift and intense as the one on the battlements. Serovek set her from him and stepped out of her reach. “Go. If I were the captain of that troop, I'd send men to scout the surrounding area just to see what might be found. Fetch Erostis and get out of here quickly. Don't be found.”
She nodded and bolted down the hall leading to the stairwell that would take them to the wing of the monastery where guests were housed. Another pair took off for the stables at the abbot's instructions. If Magas and Anhuset's horse were already saddled, she and Erostis would be galloping away from the monastery before Rodan's men could clap Serovek in irons.
Tionfa stayed beside Serovek as they crossed the bailey toward the gate with its double portcullises. Serovek unbuckled his sword and some of his armor, handing it to the abbot. “Will you keep these for me until I can return for them?”
Tionfa nodded. “Or send them to whomever you choose.”
They both paused not far from the inner portcullis. Serovek bowed to Tionfa. “I and the Khaskem owe you much for keeping Megiddo safe until we can find a way to unite his soul with his body, and I personally am in your and your brothers' debt for saving me, Erostis, and sha-Anhuset. And for trying to save Klanek.”
The other man returned the bow. “The world is a better place with the brave and compassionate in it, margrave. We hope you all walk this fair earth for many years to come.” He glanced at the Beladine contingent waiting on the other side of the gates and lowered his voice. “Should you ever decide to take the throne, I think you'd find more support than you realize. The Beladine kingdom would thrive under your rule.”
Serovek darted a glance at his waiting escort and spoke just as softly “Don't say that too loud, abbot, or you'll be joining me on the journey to Timsiora, wearing a handsome pair of shackles of your own. Besides, I've no interest in such a thankless duty. Kings who were once free soldiers become prisoners of diplomacy and administration. That is a slow death.”
Tionfa accompanied him to the inner portcullis and gave the signal to have it raised, then lowered again once Serovek walked under it to stand before the outer portcullis. He nodded once to the waiting troop commander who nodded back in recognition of a peaceful surrender of a prisoner. Serovek didn't look back when the outer portcullis struck the ground with a bang and rattle of chains.
Two more soldiers joined their leader, each one reining their mounts on either side of him. One led another saddled horse behind him. The commander dismounted to meet Serovek halfway. He saluted, surprising Serovek with the gesture of respect. “Lord Pangion,” he said. “I'm Captain Ratik. I served at High Salure for a season when I first joined the army.”
A young captain, maybe a dozen years Serovek's junior with a familiar face under his helmet. He searched his memory for a green recruit newly arrived at High Salure and found what he was looking for. “I remember you. Your sister married Lord Canotkin's youngest son.”
Ratik cracked a smile until he remembered his duty and whom he addressed. “She did,” he said in a solemn voice. “Very good memory, my lord.”
One of the things Serovek had learned early in his years as a military leader was the importance of remembering faces, names, and some small personal detail tied to them. These were men who rode into battle together, sometimes died together, and defended each other. They followed the orders of a superior, most of the time unquestioning, and to Serovek's way of thinking they deserved some recognition from that superior that they were more than just a sword or a spear or blood to be spilled in pursuit of an objective. That philosophy had earned him a fierce loyalty among the men who served High Salure. His thoughts turned briefly to the treacherous Ogran. There were exceptions.
At Ratik's gesture, the soldier holding the irons came forward and stopped when Ratik held up his hand a second time. “Give them to me.” Once he held them, he stared at Serovek with a resolute expression, as if he was about to do something unpleasant or against a personal code. “Will I need these?”
Serovek had no intention of trying to escape. There was much more at stake here than his freedom. If that's all it was, he would have sneaked out with Anhuset and Erostis. But the manacles were more than just devices of restraint, they were a symbol, and he had no doubt Rodan expected him to ride to the capital and be presented to his king wearing them. “Probably,” he said.
The captain sighed, nodded, and clapped the manacles on his wrists. “You understand my opinion of this means nothing. I'm doing my duty.”
“As a Beladine margrave, I expect no less from any Beladine soldier.”