As if she heard his thoughts, Anhuset gestured to the box. “I’m to relay the message from the herceges that he couldn’t think of anyone more suited to battling an enraged female while enjoying the fight.”
His laughter echoed through the bailey, while his men snickered around him. The box with the angry scarpatine inside jumped in his hand. “I’ve always liked your cousin. Now to convince my cook I pay him enough to make the pie.” He held out the box to the soldier closest to him. “Take it to the kitchen.”
The man hesitated, glancing from one side to the other, as if silently asking for volunteers to take on the task. None of his cohorts stepped forward. He gingerly reached for the box before grabbing it with both hands. It jerked in his grip, the scarpatine’s tail striking the sides of the box with hard taps. The soldier took off for the kitchen at a jog, eager to be rid of his burden.
Another soldier offered to take Anhuset’s horse for stabling. She untied the satchel from its place behind the saddle and slung it over her shoulder before leaving her mount to the man’s care. Had it been any other woman, Serovek would have offered to carry her burden for her, but this was Anhuset. He didn’t relish having his hand bitten off for the effort.
She paced him as they passed under the barbican and into the bailey. A busy place full of clamor and chaos, only the briefest pause in the noise marked her arrival before resuming.
“Watch your step,” he told her, pointing to the depressions in the soft ground where rain had gathered from the day before, then iced over sometime during the night. Even with the sun high, those pools in the shade remained frozen. Winter had been long this year and spring slow to arrive.
He had never known her to be a chatty woman, though she never hesitated in expressing herself. Serovek was familiar enough with the Kai to know her taciturn manner was an individual trait and not one representative of the Kai in general. He didn’t mind carrying the conversation. Anhuset didn’t say much, but she had an expressive face and revealed a lot more than she was probably aware of and would be horrified to learn, especially from him. He bit back a smile.
“Did you have a good journey to High Salure?”
She shrugged. “Good enough. No one tried to kill me on my way here, though it’s damn bright today.”
He ushered her to the citadel’s main entrance. “Let’s get you out of the sunlight.”
Someone on the other side had been waiting for them. The doors opened the moment Serovek’s boot touched the threshold. One of his servants had snuffed out half the candles and lamps while he’d been outside. The great hall was no longer ambient but tenebrous, with most of its illumination emanating from the fire roaring in the hearth.
Beside him, Anhuset gave a small grunt. “You need not go through this trouble for me. I’m used to guard duty during the day. The brightness is an annoyance, that’s all.”
“Are you sure that’s something you can cope with for a prolonged period? We’ll be traveling by day, resting at night.”
“I’m not human.” By her tone, she might well have said “I’m not diseased.”
Serovek chuckled. “Implying you’re not weak. Rumor has it the delicate Ildiko Khaskem took down one of your Kai assassins with a shutter pole. By herself.”
They both paused at the foot of the stairwell. Anhuset dipped her head in acknowledgment of his strike. “Point taken.” She raised an eyebrow when he stared at her. “Don’t look so surprised. Just because you have a talent for annoying me like no other doesn’t mean I won’t recognize you as victor in an argument.”
He let out a long, slow whistle. “Sha-Anhuset, you will never cease to amaze me.”
The look she gave him would have withered a lesser man to a desiccated husk. “It isn’t that momentous, Lord Pangion,” she said in the driest tones.
Despite the bleak purpose of their trip, it promised to be an entertaining one. Serovek grinned. Anhuset’s acerbic wit fascinated him as much as her appearance and demeanor. That fascination only strengthened with each interaction they shared. “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
They ascended the tightly spiraling stairwell to the second floor, where the space opened up to a corridor lined in closed doors. Serovek led her to one and pushed it open to reveal a sumptuously appointed chamber illuminated only by the light spilling from the fire dancing merrily in the corner hearth. The windows were shuttered against the daylight and the cold, leaving shadows to pool in the niches and under the wall hangings.
“Will this suit?” he asked. “If not, there are other rooms to choose from. My staff can have another ready for you in short order.” He’d inspected this space itself once it was readied, hoping she’d approve. Anhuset though often surprised him.
A flicker of unease darted across her sharp features as she took in the room’s trappings. “You went to too much trouble. I would have been fine with a space in the barracks.”
He had half-expected such a reaction. The Kai woman was far more comfortable among humbler surroundings, but something had urged him to offer her the best at his disposal. Maybe a vanity on his part. He didn’t dwell long on the niggle of disappointment.
“If you’d prefer the barracks, I’ll see to it a space there is set up for you, but I hope you won’t decline an invitation to have supper with me.”
Anhuset shook her head. “This is fine. No need wasting someone’s labor and making them work to prepare a second place for me to sleep.” A slight turn of her head alerted him she watched him from the corner of her eye. “I despise frivolous nitwits who’ll put a household in an uproar just to appease their whims.”
“Then we’re of like minds. But you still haven’t said if you’ll dine with me.”
“What are you serving?”
The unmistakable note of dread in her voice made his eyebrows rise. He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Join me and find out. Or are you afraid?”
Her own silvery eyebrows crashed together. “Name the hour.”
They agreed to meet in the great hall at sundown. While he would have liked to spend the rest of the day with her, offering himself as tour guide to the citadel, he had last-minute preparations and plans to make with his steward.
Anhuset dismissed his apology with a flick of her hand. “Not necessary, margrave. I’ve been here before as you know. I’m familiar enough with the grounds.” She set her satchels next to the curtained bed and scraped back her hood to reveal her hair, white as new-fallen snow and gleaming even in the dim firelight. “Your marhskalk owes me a chance to win back money I lost to him in the last dice game we played together.”
For a moment, Serovek fiercely envied his master-at-arms, Carov. He’d much prefer to spend the next few hours in Anhuset’s company himself, engaged in a friendly game of chance, even if she managed to clean out his treasury. He’d especially welcome a sparring match with her. She was a formidable fighter—he’d seen that firsthand—and would make a worthy opponent.
He accompanied her downstairs and into the bailey where she joined Carov and a group of soldiers training in the practice yard. A few called out to her, inviting her to participate in a mock battle. Her yellow eyes caught fire. She bowed briefly to Serovek, promising to meet him at their appointed time for supper.