The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,143
swallowed down laughter when the more squeamish among them flung themselves against the walls as she passed them in the open-air cloisters or fell into the thorny embrace of dormant rose bushes lining the snowy gardens. The urge to smile wide and long almost overcame her, and she gained an appreciation for Ildiko's enjoyment of crossing her eyes in front of Kai nobility.
She followed Droginin down several hallways, their boots striking a tandem rhythm on the floors. Behind them, the Beladine nobility followed in a wave of chatter. They kept their distance but shadowed the two and their small contingent of soldiers all the way to a set of narrow double doors three times as tall as they were wide and flanked on either side by a pair of guards in royal livery.
“Sha-Anhuset of Bast-Haradis to see His Majesty,” the captain said.
Word of her arrival in the city had obviously reached the palace before she did for there was no hesitation or questioning before two of the guards opened the doors for her to cross the threshold. Droginin offered another bow. “This is where I leave you, sha-Anhuset.” He pivoted sharply before cleaving a path through the crowd of court butterflies waiting to follow her through the doors.
Their protests sounded loud behind her when the guards crossed glaives to prevent them from filing into the chamber, and she caught a glimpse of disappointed faces when the doors shut. This chamber was not so grandiose as the one she saw through the space made by another set of partially open doors. This was obviously the antechamber before the great hall with its elevated throne at the far end. A man heavily garbed in expensive woolens and silks greeted her with a sly and disapproving expression. His critical stare took in her riding leathers and tough woolens made to withstand the rigors of the road and weather.
“His Majesty will see you now,” he said without preamble. “Follow me.” He led her through the second set of doors and into the great hall.
It was a grand space simply for its size and the height of its roof. Tapestries whose details were lost in the gloom hung on the walls at regular intervals, providing warmth in a room colder than a sepulcher. Her breath fogged in front of her as she crossed the cavernous chamber, noting the countless number of swords, polearms and shields used to decorate those places the tapestries didn't cover. Trestle tables and benches were pushed to either side of the chamber, kept out of the way until meals were served. Small clusters of people stood in various spots watching as she approached the dais upon which the throne sat and the old man who hunched there like a vulture.
Grateful for the lack of numerous windows that would have flooded the throne room with light this time of day, she stopped squinting and focused her gaze on Rodan, monarch of the kingdom of Belawat. The man she was certain had Brishen abducted and mutilated, the man who sought Serovek's death thanks to fear and paranoia of having his throne usurped. Her upper lip began to curl with the loathing and contempt swelling inside her. She forced both down. Now wasn't the time to allow for temper or obvious dislike. This would be her greatest test in patience and diplomacy, two things no one had ever praised as her strengths.
She genuflected before him, bowed her head and gave the Kai salute of a soldier to their commander. She raised her head to meet his eyes, revolted by the sight of his bloodshot sclera and the milky scale covering one of his faded green eyes. She hadn't thought human eyes could be uglier. She was wrong.
“Sha-Anhuset,” he said in a voice nearly as harsh as his lined and weathered features. “Lord Pangion has written favorably of you in his account of the journey you shared to the Lobak valley. It seems Chamtivos and his men weren't quite prepared to fight a Kai.”
Serovek had been allowed to write an account? Anhuset hoped her expression remained bland while inside she wondered how he'd managed such a feat while imprisoned. She also wondered how much of that account would remain in its original state and how much the king's scribes would alter it. “I don't think the warlord or his men were prepared for Lord Pangion, Your Highness. It was he who killed Chamtivos and hopefully put an end to the fighting in your territories there.”