Her throat closed tight, and a tear slid from the corner of her eye, down her cheek to tickle her ear. She cried for Cephren who grieved a daughter he thought already dead, for Brishen who tasked himself with the grim duty of meting out final justice to that daughter, and for Ineni who exemplified generations of Kai reeling from the loss of their magic.
She didn’t see him again until well after supper. She sat in the solar, sewing at her embroidery frame. Candles in wall sconces illuminated the room, revealing the pair of nurses who watched Tarawin as she played with a set of toys at her mother’s feet. A quick knock that didn’t wait for a reply, and the door swung open to reveal Brishen swaying drunkenly between a servant and a soldier.
The lopsided smile he offered her matched his loose-limbed stance as he canted to one side before the servant caught him. “Hello, Hercegesé,” he said in a slow drawl. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He shook off his escort and crashed to one knee as Tarawin dropped her toy and ran to him with a happy squeal. Ildiko’s heart jumped for a moment when he caught her in his arms, afraid he’d keel over, taking the little girl with him. But Brishen remained steady as he hugged the queen before tickling her into shrieking laughter.
They played together for a few moments until he guided her toward one of the nurses hovering nearby and rose unsteadily to his feet. “I think I need to lie down,” he said between hiccups.
The walk back to their bedchamber was a stumbling jostle as Ildiko took over the role of support pillar from the servant, while the soldier on the other side of Brishen helped her guide her swaying husband down the corridor. Once inside, they lay him on the bed, and the servant helped her undress Brishen before tossing a light cover over him.
Ildiko swiped a hand across her perspiring brow. “You Kai are a heavy lot,” she said and thanked the servant for his help before dismissing him from the room.
Sinhue passed him on the way out, glanced at the herceges sprawled across the bed and brought the empty water basin to Ildiko. “Keep this nearby,” she instructed. “By the reek of spirits in here, he’ll need it sooner or later.” A frown stitched lines into her forehead. “I’ve never known the herceges to overindulge.”
Neither had Ildiko, but she suspected this had been weeks in the making. She stroked his hair back from his face, then slid her hand across his chest to feel the steady thump of his heartbeat. “We’ve dealt with unusual circumstances lately.”
She sent the maid away after assuring her she didn’t need the help with Brishen. Except for his closed eyelid, which twitched, he lay still under the covers. His lips also moved in silent conversation with whomever he dreamed of in the fog of inebriation.
“It must have been a difficult day for you to dive so deep into your cups, my love.” She murmured the words, but he still heard them, for he grasped the hand that stroked his cheek and held it still.
“I drank with Cephren,” he said, “so he might have company while he mourned his daughter, and I might comfort a friend whom I lied to in the name of compassion.” His eye opened,deep yellow and bloodshot. Ildiko, who could never read a Kai’s emotions in their eyes, had no trouble reading the grief in Brishen’s face. “Before she died, Ineni told me she was grateful there was no one with the ability to reap her mortem light. For her father’s sake.”
Ildiko sighed. “I agree with her. It’s a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless.”
Brishen gave a slow blink and tightened his grip on her hand. “Had there been no other choice, I would have played stud for her, Ildiko. Whatever it took to save you. Would you have forgiven me?”
Her heart raced. This, she thought. This was what had lain silent and poisonous between them since they’d returned to Saggara. She had sensed something troubled Brishen greatly, something he wrestled with and couldn’t speak of until now in a vulnerable moment.
“Forgiveness is warranted when one party has committed a wrongdoing,” she said. “You wouldn’t have need forgiveness.” His hair was silky as she combed it with her fingers. “I’d give you my sympathy instead. My gratitude, my faith, and most of all my sorrow for being subjected to such a thing.” Her heart ached for him. How heavy was this invisible crown.
She kissed him then, tasting the sharp flavor of strong drink. He pulled her down atop him before rolling her beneath him. They lay tangled in the covers until Brishen yanked them aside so that his naked body pressed down on her clothed one. He groaned into her mouth when she deepened the kiss, pulling back briefly to stare at her.
“Claim me,” he commanded in a voice deeper and more guttural than she’d ever heard before.
And she did, over and over until her body shivered from exhaustion and his lay heavy and hot against hers in dreamless sleep.
“Mine,” she whispered, idly stroking his muscular back. “From the moment we met in a rose garden until I take my last breath.” It was her promise to him.
EPILOGUE
Winter following the events of THE IPPOS KING
On a snowy day, as the Kai city of Saggara sank into sleep and left the daylight world to the younger races, Brishen Khaskem closed the garden gate and joined his wife where she sat on a bench in the middle of a profusion of white flowers. She was a splash of color among the monochrome hues of white and gray, her bright flag of hair unbound so that it spilled down her back in loose waves.
She’d turned her face up to the sun, eyes closed as she savored its light. She opened them when the bench creaked beneath his weight and gave him a smile. “And why is the regent roaming about the gardens in the middle of the day instead of resting in his bed?”
He tucked one of her cold hands against his side to warm it. Even protected by his cloak’s hood, he still squinted in the daylight glare. “Because my strange wife has chosen to sit out here by herself and freeze instead of keeping me warm under the blankets.” He lifted her hand to blow on her pale fingers.Her pleased “ooh” encouraged him to do it several more times to both hands. “Where are your gloves?” he finally asked.
“I was in too much of a hurry to come outside and watch the first snowfall and forgot them on the table. There’s no use in bothering a servant with such a trivial task of fetching them.” She huddled along his side. “Besides, you make a marvelous muff.”
He chuckled at her odd compliment. “I’m glad to be of use, wife.”
A sparkle at her throat caught his eye, and he warmed at the sight of the moonstone flower he’d given her. A jeweler had repaired the chain, and Ildiko had worn the necklace when it wasn’t at risk from Tarawin’s curiosity. It seemed very fitting right now that his wife wore this particular jewelry as she sat among the white blossoms that had inspired its making.
“It’s my favorite of the many gifts you’ve given me,” she said as if hearing his thoughts.
He lifted the delicately carved flower with a black claw. “I’m glad. It doesn’t have the best memories tied to it now. I’d have understood if you put it away and never wore it again.”
