She didn't waste a moment recounting their journey to the monastery, starting first with what she knew would displease him—their side trip to Haradis. Brishen's expression, usually mild, turned harsh, every angle sharpening with his growing scowl, especially when she told him of the galla still lurking behind the walls and how she believed it had been a manifestation of Megiddo that had saved them. Anhuset glanced at Ildiko. The hercegesé didn't scowl as her husband did, but her face was even paler than when she first rushed into the room.
“Serovek should have never brought you there,” Brishen said, voice flat. Angry. “And neither one of you should have gone into that cursed place.”
“The decision was mine, Brishen. I would have gone alone if he refused to accompany me.” Anhuset lifted her palms in a supplicating gesture. “I know why you refuse to revisit Haradis or allow others to do so. I understand. Truly. But had I not done so, we wouldn't have known about the canals dug or the fact there was a galla trapped in there. Maybe more.” Saying that sent a shiver through her, and Ildiko hugged herself as if warding off the cold.
Brishen's expression only hardened even more. “Be that as it may, I am ordering you as your regent and your commander to stay away from Haradis. You will not go back there without my express permission. Is that understood?”
Mild-mannered and jovial most of the time, though less so since the galla's ravages, Brishen angered was a formidable sight to behold. The few times Anhuset had seen him like this, he'd reminded her of both his parents. Ruthless, implacable, dangerous to cross. She bowed. “Yes, herceges.”
“Continue,” he said, and his voice was no longer as chilly as before.
She told him of the bridge that shouldn't be there and the haunted city with its phantasmal queen and her entourage of ghosts, of Bryzant's and Ogran's betrayal of Serovek, of Chamtivos and their ordeal in the camp as well as the fight on the island and the monks' arrival there.
Brishen raised a hand to halt her narrative. The yellow of his eye flickered from dark to light with the change of his emotions. Swirling ribbons of fear laced with shock and worse, guilt. “Are you all right?” That one-eyed gaze passed over her slowly, looking for signs of injury.
Anhuset nodded, quick to quash any notion that she blamed him in some way for Chamtivos's actions. “I've been in worse shape coming back from patrol. The Nazim monks are good fighters, even better healers, and impressive sorcerers.” She winced inwardly at the note of envy she couldn't hide when she said the last and winced again at the faint sadness in Brishen's face. “The Beladine king would do well to keep them as allies instead of proclaiming them heretics and turning them into enemies.”
She finished with a retelling of the royal troop's arrival and her and Erostis's flight. She kept her encounter with Ogran even briefer. He didn't deserve her time or Brishen's ear.
She said nothing at all about the halcyon days at the monastery while Serovek recovered—in her arms, in his bed.
Brishen gave a low whistle. “After all of that, it's hard to believe you and the others managed to get Megiddo safely to his brothers.”
Anhuset recalled Serovek's dreams, the ethereal blue light in his gaze just like the one she'd seen in Brishen's. The same light that sometimes flared around Megiddo's bier. There was no better time than now, with Ildiko present, and the three of them alone in this chamber where others couldn't hear.
“Herceges,” she said, and saw him stiffen at the tone in her voice. “You should know that while I traveled with the margrave, I witnessed more than once what looked like remnants of Kai magic on him.” Ildiko's short gasp sounded beside her. “He dreamed of Megiddo, but it was more than a dream. A vision was more like it, of the monk tortured in some cursed place swarming with galla. I woke him from one such dream, and when he opened his eyes, they glowed with the blue light of Elder magic. Megiddo's bier glowed the same way at the time.” She paused as Brishen's skin turned the lackluster shade of fireplace ash. “The margrave told me he's had such dreams since returning home from fighting the galla and says they're worse, stronger, sharper, and more numerous when he's in close proximity to the monk's body.”
“Brishen,” Ildiko said softly. He held up a finger to stop her from saying anything else, making Anhuset wonder if the hercegesé had finally confronted her husband about his own visions and the azure glow in his eye.
“We'll attend to that later,” he said. “For now, Serovek has more to worry about than visions of Megiddo. The messenger who came here said while there's a military adviser controlling High Salure for now, this Bryzant you mentioned has left High Salure to speak with the king at Timsiora, no doubt to argue for a sentence of guilt and the punishment of death for his erstwhile lord.”
Anhuset growled. “That treacherous pus bucket wants High Salure for himself or a reward of equal value from the king. He set all of this in motion the moment Serovek left for the monastery. I'm going to kill that bastard just like I did his minion.” She caught Brishen's half smile. “It isn't funny, Brishen,” she snapped. “I've given my report. I need a horse and supplies so I can ride out again. I don't have time for more talk.” Her reason told her such recklessness would do no one any good, but her emotions ran high and hot at the moment, verging on an uncharacteristic panic that also made her waspish.
“Make time,” he replied, undaunted by her anger. “By the look of you, you haven't slept or eaten for a couple of days, have half the forest stuck in your hair, and you smell worse than a bog. You want to help the margrave? Start with a bath and some food.” It was his turn to offer a placating gesture at her glare. “If you march into King Rodan's court demanding an audience or worse, that Serovek be set free, it's a certainty they'll execute him. He's highborn and high-ranking. He'll be granted a trial and the right to rebut his accusers.”
“A mock court and a mockery of justice.” She paced in front of Brishen.
“Guaranteed, but a trial, even the sham of one, buys more time. Give me the chance to remind myself of the details of Beladine justice and form a plan. He's my friend too. Use the time to map your best and fastest route to Timsiora. If you want an escort, take whomever you think will benefit you best.”
“That would be you,” she said, already knowing his answer and knowing too she'd make the journey to Timsiora alone.
His eyelid slid down, covering his eye while the one over his empty eye socket fluttered. He opened his eye once more to study her, such fondness in his features, it made her heart ache for this prince of no value who had saved a world. “I only wish I could,” he said. “But we both know that isn't possible.”
Ildiko, only an observer and listener during their time in the room, finally spoke. She brushed Anhuset's elbow with her fingers. “Come with me,” she said. “I already sent Mesumenes to find someone to prepare a room for you and bring up food, drink, and water for a bath.” Her nose wrinkled to emphasize the need for the third.
“I can just go to the barracks,” Anhuset said. She was always more comfortable there than here with its echo of ancient royal Kai splendor, a splendor not for her.