The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,130
his arms. “Since we're obviously pressed for time, tell me what happened, and we'll go from there.”
She didn't waste a moment recounting their journey to the monastery, starting first with what she knew would displease him—their side trip to Haradis. Brishen's expression, usually mild, turned harsh, every angle sharpening with his growing scowl, especially when she told him of the galla still lurking behind the walls and how she believed it had been a manifestation of Megiddo that had saved them. Anhuset glanced at Ildiko. The hercegesé didn't scowl as her husband did, but her face was even paler than when she first rushed into the room.
“Serovek should have never brought you there,” Brishen said, voice flat. Angry. “And neither one of you should have gone into that cursed place.”
“The decision was mine, Brishen. I would have gone alone if he refused to accompany me.” Anhuset lifted her palms in a supplicating gesture. “I know why you refuse to revisit Haradis or allow others to do so. I understand. Truly. But had I not done so, we wouldn't have known about the canals dug or the fact there was a galla trapped in there. Maybe more.” Saying that sent a shiver through her, and Ildiko hugged herself as if warding off the cold.
Brishen's expression only hardened even more. “Be that as it may, I am ordering you as your regent and your commander to stay away from Haradis. You will not go back there without my express permission. Is that understood?”
Mild-mannered and jovial most of the time, though less so since the galla's ravages, Brishen angered was a formidable sight to behold. The few times Anhuset had seen him like this, he'd reminded her of both his parents. Ruthless, implacable, dangerous to cross. She bowed. “Yes, herceges.”
“Continue,” he said, and his voice was no longer as chilly as before.
She told him of the bridge that shouldn't be there and the haunted city with its phantasmal queen and her entourage of ghosts, of Bryzant's and Ogran's betrayal of Serovek, of Chamtivos and their ordeal in the camp as well as the fight on the island and the monks' arrival there.
Brishen raised a hand to halt her narrative. The yellow of his eye flickered from dark to light with the change of his emotions. Swirling ribbons of fear laced with shock and worse, guilt. “Are you all right?” That one-eyed gaze passed over her slowly, looking for signs of injury.
Anhuset nodded, quick to quash any notion that she blamed him in some way for Chamtivos's actions. “I've been in worse shape coming back from patrol. The Nazim monks are good fighters, even better healers, and impressive sorcerers.” She winced inwardly at the note of envy she couldn't hide when she said the last and winced again at the faint sadness in Brishen's face. “The Beladine king would do well to keep them as allies instead of proclaiming them heretics and turning them into enemies.”
She finished with a retelling of the royal troop's arrival and her and Erostis's flight. She kept her encounter with Ogran even briefer. He didn't deserve her time or Brishen's ear.
She said nothing at all about the halcyon days at the monastery while Serovek recovered—in her arms, in his bed.
Brishen gave a low whistle. “After all of that, it's hard to believe you and the others managed to get Megiddo safely to his brothers.”
Anhuset recalled Serovek's dreams, the ethereal blue light in his gaze just like the one she'd seen in Brishen's. The same light that sometimes flared around Megiddo's bier. There was no better time than now, with Ildiko present, and the three of them alone in this chamber where others couldn't hear.
“Herceges,” she said, and saw him stiffen at the tone in her voice. “You should know that while I traveled with the margrave, I witnessed more than once what looked like remnants of Kai magic on him.” Ildiko's short gasp sounded beside her. “He dreamed of Megiddo, but it was more than a dream. A vision was more like it, of the monk tortured in some cursed place swarming with galla. I woke him from one such dream, and when he opened his eyes, they glowed with the blue light of Elder magic. Megiddo's bier glowed the same way at the time.” She paused as Brishen's skin turned the lackluster shade of fireplace ash. “The margrave told me he's had such dreams since returning home from fighting the galla and says they're worse, stronger, sharper, and