Anhuset's stomach had plummeted not only at Brishen's words but at the shadow of memory behind his eye. If anyone knew the horrors of torture, it was him. His reasoning lay heavy on her shoulders, layers upon layers of hard choices that would directly affect the rest of her life in great and small ways if she followed the line of his thinking and agreed to it. “He's no longer a prime catch if he marries someone like me.” A bastard Kai woman who couldn't bear him children, was neither Beladine nor recognized as noble, who lost her magic and couldn't tie a hair ribbon properly, who knew much of war and little of feminine graces, who would never be a sought-after widow or gain an inheritance. A woman of no value at all to a Beladine nobleman seeking to rise in power.
Brishen had nodded. “Not someone like you. You specifically. Such a marriage would only be tolerated if Serovek remained a margrave. The Beladine people will never accept a Kai queen consort, even if she were the wife of a popular usurper.”
She had instantly accepted the risks and dangers of acting as Serovek's champion in a fight to the death. Done so without a second thought. But a marriage...
Brishen had encouraged her to take an entire day to consider it before she gave him her answer, and she'd used the entire day to ponder over her choices. She had never stooped to coyness and loathed it in others. She'd faced death without looking away many times. Facing life and doing the same was much harder, but she didn't turn from truth, and the truth was she'd fallen in love with a handsome-ugly human man of immense courage and unwavering integrity. If Serovek was worth dying for, he was certainly worth marrying, and once past the upheaval of her own heart and thoughts at the realization her life would irrevocably change if she became his wife, she embraced the idea. Only the question remained if he'd embrace it as well.
“Of the many things I might have expected you to say, I didn't expect that,” Rodan said. “Let me ask you this first. Why would you want to marry Serovek? Surely, the Khaskem wouldn't approve of such a match between his sha and one of my noblemen?”
The words stuck in her throat for a moment, but she forced them out and past her lips. “I would no longer be his sha, nor will I be allowed to remain in the Kai army.”
His frown deepened. “Surely you'd give up more than that. Are you not third in line for the throne after the queen regnant and the Khaskem?”
The question surprised and sent a spike of unease through her. How had he known she was related to Brishen through his father's line? Even most of the Kai only thought of her as his sha, nothing more, and those who knew otherwise didn't discuss it, especially with humans. “I'm not in any line, Your Majesty. I'm gameza, a bastard; the daughter of King Djedor's sister and a stablehand.” She described her heritage without embarrassment. She didn't place her personal value on her bloodlines. “Kai inheritance laws bar gamezas from succession of any kind.”
“Interesting.” Rodan's face had soured even more with her explanation. Anhuset prayed it wasn't because he didn't believe her but because he suffered from the same prejudices against bastards many of noble birth possessed. Disdain in this instance was of no importance. Disbelief was a problem. “Why,” he said, “would a high-ranking Beladine like Serovek choose to bind himself to you? Granted, his debt to you for saving him should you win the trial would be immense, but such debt can be satisfied with payment, and he's a wealthy man.”
Disdain it was, and Anhuset almost fell to her knees to thank the gods for Rodan's prejudiced haughtiness. “I believe he desires such a bond as I do, Your Majesty,” she told him with a shrug. “And what is the harm in asking? If he says no, I still offer myself as his champion.”
And for your sake, you better say yes, Stallion, she thought.
The king stared at her for so long, she began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep on the throne with his eyes open. Did humans sometimes sleep that way? She hadn't witnessed such a thing before, but those strange eyes did things no Kai eyes did. With any luck, he was still wide awake and concluding what she and Brishen had hoped to impart: that with a Kai wife destroying any chances of Serovek pursuing the throne, it would benefit Rodan more to keep his capable margrave alive and governing the hinterlands.
Finally, he spoke. “Fascinating. I'll consider your words and take council with my advisors regarding the request for trial by combat as well as a marriage.” He tilted his head to the side, regarding her with the intensity of a man trying to figure out a baffling puzzle. “I'm undecided, sha-Anhuset, if you're very brave or very reckless.”
“One can be both, Your Majesty.”
For the first time in this unending audience, Rodan gave up a small huff of amusement. “Very true. You're welcome to take lodgings in the palace if you wish it.”
Anhuset couldn't think of any place in this entire city she'd rather not spend an evening than under the king's roof. “I consider it an honor, Your Majesty, but I'm an unexpected visitor and don't wish to rob one of your courtiers of space. I have a place to stay just outside the city, though I would ask a boon of you.” She didn't lie. That space was a narrow tent pitched in the conifer forest covering the canyon walls surrounding Timsiora.
“What is that?” he asked, the slight narrowing of his eyes warning her, he was tiring of this meeting as much as she was.
“That I may see Lord Pangion.”
The narrowed eyes went to slits for a moment, reminding her of a feral cat. He stared at her, then shrugged. “One visit. On the other side of the bars, and accompanied by guards and at least one of my sorcerers.” He still believed the Kai possessed their magic and was taking precautions. Anhuset had no intention of enlightening him.
She bowed low. “Of course, and you have my thanks.” Excitement bubbled inside her, anticipation and no small relief. Soon she'd be gone from here, and while she'd never before delighted in a visit to a prison, she'd engaged in many firsts today. One more made no difference, except in this case, she'd see a man whose face and touch had haunted her dreams since she left him in a monastery, prepared to give himself over to royal troops as a prisoner.
“A messenger will find you when you have my answer,” Rodan said and dismissed her from his presence with an abrupt shooing motion.
His guards wasted no time escorting her out, though it was they who jogged to keep up with her as she left. The flock of courtiers were still outside, their faces avid. Word of what she'd said at the gate had obviously reached to all corners as many in the crowd wore smirking expressions, even horrified ones. Anhuset ignored them all, striding through their midst and threatening to stride over them if they didn't get out of her way.
Droginin was waiting for her outside the castle. Anhuset hadn't expected to see him again. “I've volunteered to take you to the Zela, sha-Anhuset. It's the prison here in Timsiora and where the margrave is currently kept.”
Once at the prison, he spoke with the guards there and was met by the warden, a refined-looking man whose appearance seemed at odds with his grim profession and even grimmer surroundings. Droginin offered to keep an eye on her horse while she was inside. “I'll take you back to the city gates once you're through here,” he said.