He strolled closer, his steps light on the stone floor despite the boots he wore. He raised a palm in question. “What? Not Serovek? Or even Lord Pangion?” Laugh lines crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. “We each shared an end of the same sword once.”
At his reference to the time she stabbed him, her back went so stiff, it audibly cracked. The amusement that often graced his features when he spoke to her disappeared at her reaction, and a line creased the space between his black eyebrows as he met her slitted gaze.
“Your humor leaves much to be desired,” she growled before turning her back on him and striding away. The weight of his stunned silence followed her the entire length of the corridor.
Supper lasted an eternity. Brishen had invited a few of his ministers, those whose enclaves bordered the Beladine lands Serovek governed. The discussions at the tables, carried out in Common tongue for the benefit of their guests, revolved around the coming spring planting on either side of the border, reassurances from both Brishen and Serovek that no galla had been seen, the ever-present dangers of those who raided across both territories, stealing livestock or food stores, what neighbors battled over water rights to a particular stream or a communal well. There were inquiries into the infant queen’s health and that of Ildiko, who had stepped into the role of motherhood. No one spoke of abandoned Haradis or the fact the Kai still reeled from the sudden and unexplained loss of magic for every male old enough to grow his first beard or female who’d had her first bleed.
The first was still a raw wound, the second a secret Anhuset suspected every Kai instinctively knew to keep from any human. She had no doubt that word of this particular disaster would get out eventually, and the human kingdoms surrounding Kai territory would find a way to exploit it.
She picked at the food on her plate, dividing her attention between the talk around her and the activity of all who entered or exited the great hall. If Ildiko were sitting next to her, she’d sternly remind Anhuset that she was no longer on duty. And Anhuset would brush the admonishment aside. She was always on duty.
As much as she tried to resist the temptation, she couldn’t help but turn her gaze to where Lord Pangion sat beside Brishen, deep in conversation with all those who sat nearby. Those Kai who were meeting him for the first time were obviously impressed not only with his eagerness to eat scarpatine pie, but his ability to filet the hostile insect without getting pierced by its nasty barb and shot full of venom.
He watched her as well, his stare falling on her numerous times throughout the meal, even as he answered the many questions Brishen’s ministers peppered him with regarding Belawat’s plans for a new dam farther upstream or its willingness to trade with the Kai farmers with homesteads on its borders. Anhuset looked past him, pretending that deep blue gaze didn’t draw her.
As the meal progressed and finally came to an end, her anger waned. Her reason told her he hadn’t meant to offend her in any way, that he was likely puzzled by her reaction to his teasing. There was no way he could know how much that terrible moment they shared bothered her.
Once supper concluded and the various guests went their separate ways, Brishen motioned for Anhuset to join him, Ildiko, and Serovek in a small antechamber he typically reserved for more private meetings.
She was the last one in and closed the door behind her with a soft click, staying nearby to listen for any lurkers outside who might decide it was a good idea to eavesdrop.
The other three took seats at the table in the center of the room, and Ildiko served tea from a steaming pot a servant had delivered.
Brishen toasted his guest. “Tell us more of this letter you received from the monk’s brother.”
Serovek fished a folded parchment from an inner pocket of his vest and passed it to Brishen to read. “He doesn’t go into detail, only saying the Jeden Order has asked that Megiddo be returned to them. No explanation as to why.”
Brishen quickly scanned the correspondence before glancing up. “You told me once the Jeden Order worships a single god and are skilled in warfare. Anything else?” He set the letter down and refilled his cup, offering to do the same for Ildiko, who declined with a quick shake of her head.
Serovek didn’t refuse, holding up his cup for a second pour. “Besides the fact they tread on heretic territory? No.”
Anhuset spoke up then, addressing Brishen. “He is one of theirs. Why wouldn’t they want him back?” Though she didn't mention it, she hoped Megiddo’s sword might be returned to the monks along with his body. Nothing good would come of remnant magic spun up from the spellwork of a long-dead Kai wizard dabbling in necromancy.
An arrested expression passed over her cousin’s face. “Maybe,” he said in a studied, noncommittal voice. “Maybe not.”
She frowned, slipping into bast-Kai. “He isn’t your responsibility, Highness.”
He returned her frown. “I disagree. He’s bound by Kai magic.”
“Which you…” Anhuset paused, the words “no longer wield,” heavy on her tongue before she rolled them back. “Can’t control with him because his soul is no longer in this world.” She met Ildiko’s worried gaze, remembering the phantasmal blue glow that had passed through Brishen’s eye earlier.
Serovek refused a third helping of tea and pushed his empty cup away. “Your sha is right, Brishen,” he said in Common tongue. “I wanted to tell you about the message but not to place some misbegotten guilt on your shoulders. The monk’s order and his family agree he’s best residing with the other monks. Is it our right to refuse the request?”
Brishen remained frustratingly unmoved by the argument. “Possibly. The Jeden Order is located in a strife-ridden area. You said so yourself. The monks reclaimed their territory stolen by the warlord Chamtivos, but there are still skirmishes there.”
Serovek waved away his concerns. “I’ll have a contingent of troops with me to accompany Megiddo’s body to the monastery. Why anyone would want to make off with a soulless body defies reason, but they’ll have to work hard and be willing to bleed a great deal if they want him.”
Anhuset saw her chance. She left her vigil by the door to stand on the opposite side of the table from Brishen. “I can go with them to represent the Kai so the Beladine, and the monks know we honor the sacrifice one of their own made for us. I can also take his sword with us as well and deliver it to the monks.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before Brishen said “Absolutely not. The sword stays.”
There was a finality to his tone that made even Serovek’s eyebrows climb. Brishen was a genial man, yet there was in his voice a reminder that he was also a toughened warrior, a man who had destroyed his own mother’s corrupt soul without hesitation and battled abominations born of Elder magic. The prince regent of Bast-Haradis.
Again, Anhuset sought Ildiko’s gaze. The hercegesé gave a faint shake of her head, her features pale and disappointed, but she chose not to argue Brishen's edict. Megiddo’s ensorceled sword would remain at Saggara.
In an obvious attempt to break the tension in the room, Serovek turned to Anhuset, a smirk tilting the corners of his mouth a little. “A Kai warrior in our party. We won’t exactly blend in when we travel.”