Radiance (Wraith Kings Book 1) (18 page)

“And you’re ruining my peace,” he countered.  He laid his hand on her slender waist.  “What say you?”

“Later,” she replied.  “We’re the hosts, Brishen.  We can’t be late.”

He sighed, stepped away from temptation, and offered his arm.  “Let’s get this over with then.”  He escorted her into the hall and toward one of the staircases that led to the great hall.

Ildiko squeezed his arm.  “I don’t miss the Haradis court, but I do miss your court garb.  You will be the handsomest man in the room.”

Brishen gave her a small smile.  “You mean the handsomest Kai.”  She had earlier complimented Serovek’s looks when asked.  In her eyes, he would be the finer looking of them.

Her mouth turned down a little.  “No,” she said.  “The handsomest man.”

“Lord Pangion will be there.”

Ildiko shrugged.  “So?  My opinion remains unchanged.”

He halted abruptly and hauled Ildiko into his arms.  She gasped, then sighed when he kissed her.  Her arms slid over his shoulders to play with the long braid of hair he’d queued at his neck.

Brishen forgot about time, about guests, about dinner, about the world around him.  He cursed his inability to kiss her the way she kissed him—that soft mating of tongues and lips so sensual and alluring, she made his head swim.

He groaned when the warning peal of the gate bell rang throughout the estate, signaling the arrival of visitors.  Ildiko’s blue eyes had darkened once more, and her lips were red.  Her arms slid off his shoulders, and she put some much needed distance between them.  “We’ll never make it to the hall if we keep doing this.”

“I don’t view that as a problem,” he groused.

“I don’t either, but others will.”  She tugged on his arm.  “Come, Your Highness.  We need to make our grand entrance.”

Brishen schooled his features into a polite mask, placed his wife’s hand over his and escorted her toward the hall.  A long, long night awaited him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 Standing this close to him, Ildiko was struck by Serovek's impressive size. He was a big man—a little taller than Brishen—with massive shoulders and long, muscular legs. He looked as if he could crush anvils with his bare hands. She wondered if his gregarious personality contributed even more to the sense of physical power he exuded.

He’d come to Saggara with a small entourage of Beladine soldiers.  Their sparse numbers signaled a gesture of peace and trust in Brishen that this dinner would be as safe and friendly as the one the Kai attended at High Salure.

The Beladine guests mingled with Kai officers and councilmen of the Kai villages and townships under Saggara’s protection.  Ildiko admired the ease in which the two groups socialized, so different from her wedding where Gauri and Kai almost drew swords on each other.  Such actions seemed counterintuitive to the realities at hand:  The Kai were allied with the Gauri through trade while hostilities with the Beladine brewed hotter every day.  Serovek and those under his command were unique in the political fray.  Ildiko wondered how long his friendship with Brishen would last after a declaration of war or accusation of treason.  She hoped neither came to pass.

“You are a fine hostess, Your Highness, and your cooks in danger of abduction to High Salure.”  Serovek inclined his head to where servants cleared the remains of the earlier dinner from the tables.  In one corner, a quintet of Kai musicians strummed instruments, the haunting melodies accompanying the din of several conversations.  “I especially enjoyed the scarpatine pie.”

Ildiko shuddered.  Her hope to never again see or eat the Kai’s most beloved and revolting delicacy had been in vain.  When Brishen informed her that the dish was one of Serovek’s favorites, she resigned herself to another culinary battle with her food and put the scarpatine on the menu.  She ordered roasted potatoes as well, much to the head cook’s disgust.

When servants brought out the food and set it on the table, Brishen leaned close and whispered in her ear.  “Revenge, wife?”

“Hardly,” she replied, keeping a wary eye on the pie closest to her.  The golden top crust, with its sprinkle of sparkling salt, pitched in a lazy undulation.  “But I’m starving, and I have no intention of filling up on that abomination.”

Their guest of honor didn’t share their dislike of either food.  As deft as any Kai, Serovek made short work of the scarpatine and its whipping tail, cleaved open the shell with his knife and took a generous bite of the steaming gray meat.

Ildiko’s stomach heaved.  She forgot her nausea when Serovek complimented her.  “An excellent choice to pair the scarpatine with the potato, Your Highness.  They are better together than apart.”

Beside her, Brishen choked into his goblet.  He wiped his mouth with his sanap.  “What a waste of good scarpatine,” he muttered under his breath.

What a waste of a nice potato
, she thought.  However, the more she thought on Serovek’s remark, the more her amusement grew.

“And what has you smiling so brightly?”  Brishen stared at her, his lambent eyes glowing nearly white in the hall’s torchlight.

She glanced at Serovek, happily cleaning his plate and shooting the occasional glance at Anhuset nearby.  Brishen’s cousin refused to meet his gaze, but Ildiko had caught the woman watching the Beladine lord more than a few times during dinner.

“That’s us, you know,” she said.

“What is us?”

“The scarpatine and the potato.  Better together than alone.  At least I think so.”

One of Brishen’s eyebrows slid upward.  “I thought we were hag and dead eel.  I think I like those comparisons more.”  He shoved his barely-touched potato to the edge of his plate with his knife tip, upper lip curled in revulsion to reveal a gleaming white fang.

Ildiko laughed and stabbed a piece of the potato off his plate.  She popped it into her mouth and chewed with gusto, eager to blunt the taste of scarpatine still lingering on her tongue.

The crowd broke into groups after dinner, and Ildiko soon found herself in conversation with Serovek and on the opposite side of the hall from Brishen.

The lines at the corners of the lord’s eyes fanned and deepened. "Will you favor me with a dance, Your Highness? The Kai think humans are clumsy creatures. Shall we prove them wrong?"

Ildiko glanced at Brishen who stood conversing with a mayor of one of the nearby Kai villages. He didn't look directly at her, but she sensed the weight of his gaze. Gauri society dictated that a woman either ask her father or her husband permission to dance with another man. Kai society did not. To the Kai, it was perfectly acceptable for Ildiko to take up Serovek's invitation without Brishen's approval. Still, she hesitated.

Serovek's chuckle returned her attention to him. He nodded toward Brishen. "Were we both Kai, I don't think he'd care. If I were Kai, he wouldn't care. But we're both human, and that presents something very different. I desire a dance with you, but I'd also like to leave Saggara alive."

Ildiko clinked her goblet against his in silent agreement. She had no idea how one might read the more subtle hints of jealousy in a Kai, but there was a certain rigidity in Brishen's stance that reminded her of an owl watching prey from the branches of a tree. "As I'm still learning Kai protocol, I think I'll ask my husband what the proper response is to such an invitation."

His grin transformed Serovek's already handsome face into an even more striking visage. Ildiko tried not to gape. "I await your answer, madam."

Ildiko left him to seek out Brishen.  He was no longer where she first saw him, and she kept to the outer perimeters of the room, searching for broad shoulders garbed in indigo silk and a long, black braid.  She jumped when his voice suddenly sounded behind her.

"I'm told Serovek is known as the Stallion in the Beladine court." A muscled arm slid around Ildiko's waist, and she leaned back against Brishen's chest. He rubbed his nose along the curve of her ear. "He's an exceptional horseman, but I doubt the title was bestowed on him because of his skills in the saddle."

His cheek was cool and smooth pressed to hers. "I suspect, my husband, that is exactly why he was given the title."

His low laughter rumbled in her ear.  A clawed hand outlined the curve of her waist before settling at her hip.  “You stalk this hall with purpose, Ildiko.  What do you seek?”

“Serovek has requested a dance with me.  I know the Kai don’t follow the Gauri customs, but he thought it best I ask you first.”

She felt it then, a stiffening in his body as he pressed against her.  It faded as soon as it appeared, but Brishen’s voice had lost its sensual warmth and turned clipped.

“He has a finely honed sense of survival.  It makes him a good warrior.  Do you wish to dance with him?”

Ildiko turned in his embrace so she could face him.  She stroked his arm and gazed into his eyes.  “I wish to dance with you, but I think it only hospitable as one of his hosts if I dance one dance with him.”  She winked.  “Or you could dance with him.”

Brishen snorted, and his features softened.  “There is hospitable, and then there’s ridiculous.”  He brushed his mouth across her forehead.  “You don’t need my leave to dance with another, wife.  But I reserve the right to steal you away at any time.”

Beladine and Kai guests paired off as the musicians segued into the beginnings of a more high-spirited tune.  Ildiko wove through the crowd and found Serovek where she left him.  He watched her approach with a slight smile.

“Will I live another day?” he asked.

She handed him her goblet so he could set it on the table behind him.  “That depends.  If you trample my feet,
I’ll
kill you.”  Her grin matched his laughter.  “You’ll forgive me, of course, if I trample yours.  I’m not familiar with Kai dances.  Until recently, I didn’t even know they danced.”

Serovek grasped her offered hand and led her toward the center of the hall.  “They are exceptional dancers.  Think about it.  Strong, fast, and nimble, they are made for it.  And you may recognize many of their tunes.  The Gauri and the Beladine have taken a few as theirs over the centuries.”

They waited amidst a throng of other couples who had paused after the first tune ended and before the next one began.  Ildiko glimpsed Brishen across the hall, watching them.  When the second tune started, she clapped her hands.  “You’re right!  I know this song.”

Serovek lifted her hand, bowed and swept her into a loose embrace.  “Your Highness, it is my honor.”

They fell into familiar steps.  Serovek had spoken true when he said the Gauri—and the Beladine as well—had borrowed a few things from the Kai.  She had learned to dance to this particular song when she was very young.  It was a popular dance at the Gauri court and one of her favorites.

Serovek’s familiarity with the dance was obvious.  He guided her smoothly through the steps, graceful as any Kai, especially for a man of his stature.  Her feet were in no danger of being crushed; her partner was an adept dancer.  It would have been perfect if she danced with Brishen instead of Serovek.

The dance soon came to an end, and Serovek surrendered her to a Kai officer who bowed low and requested a dance.  It was followed by another with a Kai town councilman and one after that with one of Serovek’s Beladine soldiers.

She was flushed, winded and thirstier than a willow tree by a dry lake bed when Brishen sought her out, carrying a much welcomed goblet of wine.  Ildiko took it with heartfelt thanks and drained it in two swallows.

Brishen blinked and offered his wine.  “Would you like mine?”

Ildiko shook her head.  “No.  You’ve rescued me.  I thought my tongue would stick to the roof of my mouth if I didn’t stop dancing soon and find something to drink.”  She handed her empty goblet to a passing servant.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”  He downed his drink and sent the cup off with Ildiko’s.

“I am.”  Ildiko reached out to play with one of the lacings on his tunic.  “Though I’d have much more fun if you paused a moment from all your political machinations and plans to dance with me.  Just one dance, husband.  It isn’t much to ask.”  She winked at him.  He had promised to claim her from any of her dance partners but so far had refrained, choosing instead to circulate through the hall, talking with both Beladine and Kai guests, including Serovek when that lord wasn’t dancing himself.

Brishen grasped her hand and brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss.  The caress sent tingles from the tips of her fingers to her toes and set a hot pool of desire swirling inside her.  She hadn’t chosen this husband of hers, nor had he chosen her, but fate or kind gods had brought them together, made them friends and then lovers.  While her Gauri peers might shudder at the idea of a Kai mate and give thanks they weren’t her, Ildiko considered herself the most fortunate of women.

Her expression must have revealed something of her thoughts.  Brishen tilted his head, a puzzled furrow appearing between his eyebrows.  “What is it?”

“I want to dance with you now,” she said in a low voice only he could hear.  “But I want to make to love to you more.”  Her cheeks burned hot at her own blunt declaration and the reaction it caused.

Brishen’s back snapped straight, and his eyes paled.  Her fingers went briefly numb at the sudden grip he closed on her hand.  His lips flattened against his teeth; nostrils flared, and the skin drew tight across his cheekbones. He said nothing, but Ildiko suddenly found herself jogging to keep up as he pulled her across the hall toward the stairwell leading to Saggara’s private wing.

“Brishen, wait.” she whispered, caught between panic and laughter.  The weight of several curious gazes rested on her shoulders, no doubt wondering why the
Herceges
of Saggara suddenly decided to whisk his wife out of the hall.

She stumbled into him when he halted abruptly and turned.  He caught her in his arms and helped her regain her balance.  His eyes still glowed white-hot, and his breathing paced shallow from his nostrils.  His voice, by contrast, was cool and uninflected.  “Are you trying to kill me, Ildiko?”

Were they not standing in the middle of the hall with a crowd of people watching, she’d twine her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless.  Brishen’s parted lips revealed the tips of his fangs.  Carefully senseless, she corrected.

She settled for squeezing his hand and offering an apologetic smile.  “Killing you is the farthest thing from my mind, and were we alone, I’d race you to the stairs.”  His claws were dark against her knuckles, lethal as spear points knapped from obsidian.  “But we aren’t alone, and we are the hosts.  We’re obligated to stay.”

Torchlight caught his eyes in a different pattern as his gaze flickered from her face to the crowd behind her and back again.  “And who will stop us if we leave?”

No one would.  In Haradis, Brishen was the unessential spare prince.  At Saggara, he was king and subject to no one.  Still, Ildiko didn’t relish the gossip such an act would incite.  She traced the line of his knuckles with her free hand.

“I don’t regret my words, only their timing,” she said.  “Dawn isn’t far off.  Dance with me until then, and you can bid your guests good riddance.”

His lids closed for a moment, black lashes thick against his cheeks.  When he opened them again, his eyes were once more their lamplight yellow.  “As you wish, but it will be another day of no sleep, wife,” he warned in a voice no longer cool but sensual.  He kissed her hand for a second time, leaving a damp line as his tongue stroked across her fingers.