The supplies he’d brought with him were meager. A few road rations, medicinal salves, a blanket, and of course weaponry—all hastily thrown into field satchels while he gave last instructions to Mertok before racing out of Saggara to meet up with the tracking teams. There had been no time to gather extra clothing or shoes, nor had there been any thought given it as Brishen drowned in silent fear for his wife and daughter. Until they reached Saggara, Ildiko would have to make do with his blanket to cover her from the biting flies that swarmed in summer.
After a brief exchange with Anhuset, who donated her blanket to wrap Ildiko’s feet in makeshift shoes, Brishen gathered a small armload of supplies from the satchels, andapproached Dendarah as she held Tarawin in her lap. He crouched in front of the pair, smiling when the little girl held up a carved wooden toy he recognized as one of her favorites. He bowed his head to the royal guard in appreciation. Dendarah, like Anhuset, was not a motherly type. She was unmarried, had no children of her own, nor expressed any desire to pursue marriage or motherhood. She was, however, absolutely devoted to the queen regnant. In the chaos and rush of leaving Saggara and starting the hunt, she’d thought to pack one of Tarawin’s toys. A thoughtful gesture full of hope.
“Once I’ve seen to the hercegesé, I’ll return to relieve you of child-minding duties. I’ll need you again for them later, but for now, you acting alongside Anhuset as guard will serve us all best.”
She nodded. “Of course, Herceges.” A hesitant look came over her features. “I wish to apologize directly to the hercegesé for my failure in protecting her and the queen, but I don’t know the best time for it.” She glanced at where Ildiko sat propped against a tree, head leaned back, eyes closed. “Now may not be appropriate.”
Recalling Ildiko’s surprising indifference toward Dendarah, Brishen was inclined to agree. His wife’s behavior in that instant had been odd, and he chalked it up to her ordeal. Still, it wasn’t like her not to acknowledge someone, even were she seething with anger. “I agree,” he told the royal guard. “Wait until we’ve returned to Saggara, and things calm down.” He tried to reassure her. “It isn’t her way to ignore, in any circumstance, even anger. I suspect she’s in shock.” Somehow that sentence rang false in his ears and sour on his tongue.
Whether or not Dendarah believed it, she simply nodded again. “As you deem best, Herceges.”
Ildiko opened her eyes and offered him a tired smile when he returned to her bearing gifts. She ate road rations and drank thewater he’d brought, remaining mostly silent while he cleaned the blood from her face and arms, and tended to her injured feet as well as the nasty slash on her arm.
“How did this happen?” he asked, holding up her arm for a closer look. The cut was shallow but long.
“I struggled with one of them while trying to take Tarawin. He cut me.”
Brishen paused from inspecting the wound. That didn’t make sense. Earlier she’d told him the guards were too drunk to notice her escape. He frowned but held his silence and returned to inspecting the wound. This was a deliberate slash carefully made, not one inflicted during a struggle. He didn’t question her more about it but kept the thought in the back of his mind.
Ildiko didn’t say anything when he checked the scratches on her neck and collarbones—marks made by a thin chain dragged across skin.
He remembered her necklace found on the drover road, now safely tucked away inside his tunic. He reached to pull it out, then paused.
Wait.
The silent, internal voice he’d always listened to in the past spoke now, a single word of…warning? Caution?
“Why the frown, Brishen?” Ildiko watched him, her own brow stitched with worry.
He lowered his hand to clasp one of her feet, inspecting it. “With Anhuset and Dendarah acting guard and other members of our hunting party not far away, we’re as safe as one can be in the middle of the forest, but I’ll feel better once we’re through Saggara’s gates.” Everything he said was true, though not what made him frown. He did his best to smooth out his expression and hide the unease rising within him, alongside the anger. Judging by her reaction—the slow relaxation of her shoulders against the tree—the salve he’d brought worked its magic inrelieving the pain in her feet. He wrapped them in pieces of the blanket Anhuset had given him
“You’re acting strange,” he’d told his once second-in-command in a low voice moments earlier.
“Am I?” She’d handed him her blanket, her gaze flickering from him to Ildiko and back to him.
Her stoicism hadn’t fooled him. Something was bothering her; she just wasn’t ready to share it with him yet. “If you think we’re being followed, you need to tell me, cousin.”
That had made her scowl. “Why would I keep something like that from you, Herceges?” She’d shoved the blanket harder into his arms. “See to your wife. If I or Dendarah think we may be attacked, you’ll be the first to know.”
He bit back a sigh as he now worked to secure the blanket strips to Ildiko’s feet. They were all on edge and would remain so until they returned home. “Not nearly as good as having shoes, but at least you’ve some protection, and we’ll be on horseback most of the return trip.” He glanced at her, catching the odd intensity in her stare again as she watched him. “What can you remember about your abduction?”
She shrugged. “Very little. A maid I didn’t recognize brought tea. I grew very sleepy, and when I woke, I was in a wagon. I was insensate most of the time from whatever they made me drink. I know there were two Kai and a human cart driver. They stayed silent most of the time, though I think I recall a mention of ransom.” Her hand was pale against his sleeve, livid scratches decorating her knuckles. She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I don’t remember more.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, drifting down slowly with the intent of brushing his lips across hers. Once more, he felt a subtle shudder under his hands before she turned her face just enough that his kiss landed on her jaw.
She pulled away to offer him a tentative smile. “Do you have more to drink? I’m terribly thirsty.”
Never did Brishen think he’d recoil from his beloved wife, but in that moment, it was as if she doused him in ice water. It took all of his will not to wrench away from her as she watched him with one eye a layered white, gray, and black, and the other, a radiant, citrine yellow.
CHAPTER SIX
Icy air coiled around Ildiko’s bare feet, chilling her ankles. She curled her toes against the cold stone and edged away from the rattling cinerary until she balanced on the edge of the bier. Even as she put distance between herself and the dead, she still leaned forward, arms outstretched to stop the vessel’s racket lest it draw the Kai outside to come and investigate the noise. An internal voice that warned her the danger from her guard was far less than touching whatever clamored to get out of the urn made her pause. The lid halted its movements, as if it waited, hoping she might make the perfect mistake and touch it. She drew back, skin crawling at the notion, and wiped her hands on her tunic.
With one eye still on the urn, she turned her attention back to the rope. If only it were a little longer or if she were taller and stronger. If she were Kai…
She glanced down at her replacement garb, an idea blossoming. Ineni hadn’t been the tallest Kai woman, but she was still much taller than Ildiko. The trouser cuffs puddled at her feet, and the tunic, meant to reach mid-thigh, hung almost to Ildiko’s knees. Good material, strong threads, and plenty of fabric. She shucked the trousers, shivering as the columbarium’sunnatural cold spread gooseflesh over her thighs. The rope ruthlessly teased her. It swung in tantalizing circles just out of reach until Ildiko thought she’d bellow her frustration and destroy any hope of escape. The cinerary nearby clattered louder with every curse word she muttered, as if excited by her struggles.
She finally caught and held the rope in place long enough to knot one of the trouser legs to the frayed end. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and she wiped the trouser cloth across her forehead. An experimental swing on the fabric assured her that for now her knot remained snug and the garment strong enough to hold her weight.
