The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,144
He'd provided her with the opportunity to impress upon him Serovek's loyalty. She had no intention of squandering it. The quick narrowing his eyes told her he recognized her reply for what it was.
He continued his questioning. “Why has the Khaskem sent you all the way to Timsiora? Alone?” Within that simple question lay a wealth of growing suspicion
“He hasn't sent me, Your Majesty. I come as one woman in support of a friend.”
One of his hoary eyebrows slid upward. “According to those at the gate, he's also your lover.” His mouth turned down a little and his nostrils flared as if he tasted something unpleasant.
“Just so, Your Majesty.” He might find it distasteful that Serovek had shared a bed with her, but Anhuset pitied every poor woman who'd shared a bed with this bilious sack of bones.
He snorted. “I wonder if Serovek would confirm such a declaration.”
“Only he can answer that, Your Majesty.” Surely she would choke on this forced graciousness before she completed her task.
“And the Khaskem has nothing to say about his sha riding to Timsiora for a visit with a man accused of treason and sedition?”
Brishen had been right to insist that if she went to the Beladine capital, she couldn't do it as an ambassador. Rodan poked and prodded, looking for something he could latch onto that might be interpreted as Kai interference. “No, Your Majesty. The Khaskem hasn't sanctioned this visit. While he considers Lord Pangion a personal friend, he feels this is a Beladine matter, not a Kai one.” How many times would she have to rephrase the same answer before Rodan stopped asking?
The king slouched in his seat, eyeing her with a combination of distaste and fascination. “You realize that as Lord Pangion's self-proclaimed lover, you're hardly an objective witness for his innocence, even if your account of the trip agrees with his.”
The prickly feel of sweat broke out on her back, despite the icy temperatures in the cavernous chamber. This was where she had to make every single word count, make it logical, sincere, and most of all of benefit to the king and to Serovek. Her weakest skill set highlighted in these most important moments. What she wouldn't give right now for a sword and good, bloody fight. “I'm not here as a witness, Your Majesty.” The address grew more bitter on her tongue every time she uttered it. “I come for other purposes.”
Rodan must have heard a certain tone in her voice for he abruptly straightened, the mild curiosity transforming to intense interest. “Continue. I'm listening.”
Anhuset exhaled slowly, choosing her words carefully on that long, drawn out breath. “I know for a fact the accusations made by Bryzant the steward are false and motivated by envy, greed, and the desire to rise by any means necessary. Chamtivos's interest in Lord Pangion was only the money his death would bring him, money promised to him by Bryzant. The warlord told me so himself. For Bryzant, the margrave was simply an obstacle to be removed and Chamtivos the tool to do it. Such a man who'll betray his liege puts no value on loyalty and will betray anyone.” She let that last word linger in the air for a moment. “But as you say, I'm not objective in this matter. Bryzant wanted all of us dead. No witnesses.”
She had set the framework of her argument, and in that moment she desperately wished Brishen were here to make it instead of her. He'd do so with ease and a naturalness that didn't come to her without immense struggle. The perspiration beaded on her back now trickled down the valley of her spine. “I believe wholeheartedly in Lord Pangion's innocence. I will stake my life on it.” Rodan's eyes narrowed, and she saw within his face a hint of burgeoning understanding for what she was about to say. “Beladine law states the accused may prove his innocence by choosing a champion to fight for him in judicial combat. If the champion wins, the accused will be acquitted and allowed to go free.”
An image of Brishen's ashy face, with his mouth thinned in worry, and his eye a yellow paler than an early autumn moon as he stood by her horse to see her off, rose in her mind. “Win that combat, cousin. Paint the city red with your opponent's blood if you have to, but win that fight and come back to us alive.”
Rodan steepled his fingers together and peered at her over