The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,160
If Serovek had killed the scarpatine, then Rodan would have had grounds to forfeit the match. The king had willingly sent him in there, betting Serovek wouldn't just help Anhuset, he'd interfere.
He might well have been right. Serovek would have killed the scarpatine himself defending Anhuset if she could no longer defend herself. The match would be called forfeit and he'd cheerfully stand trial before a tribunal whose purpose wasn't the pursuit of justice but to please the king. He'd said nothing to Anhuset, afraid if she knew the ramifications of anyone but her killing the scarpatine, she would have taken unnecessary risks to win, even it meant dying to do so.
We live for those we love. We die for those we love. Her statement rang in his mind, a peek into what it was like to be cherished by this fierce, steadfast woman.
She stood beside him now below the king's box and squinted up at the Beladine monarch, her face as sour as his as they stared at each other. Rodan finally stood and approached the balcony's edge once more. His gaze settled on Serovek, grim and resolute. Serovek wondered what excuse or twisted interpretation of the law he might use to revive the charges against Serovek and keep him prisoner until Rodan chose to kill him.
One of the royal sorcerers stepped forward and handed him the same piece of stone, infused with the magic of sound. It amplified Rodan's voice again so all in the forum could hear him. “I've always known you to be an exceptional fighter, Lord Pangion, and your champion certainly equals you in skills. You've both provided us with worthy entertainment.” He paused as the audience's cheers overwhelmed the magic. Once the noise died down, he continued, his features tight with dislike. “And your champion is victorious. The charges against you no longer stand. You are acquitted.” He gestured to someone behind him. “See to it he's unshackled.”
The crowd again erupted into cheers and clapping, many calling out Serovek's name. He winced, wishing they wouldn't. He was in this spot because Rodan already thought he was too popular. The king held up a hand for quiet. “There is, however, the matter of High Salure. How you answer my question will determine whether or not it's returned to you.”
Serovek braced himself for another trap.
“Will you bind yourself to Anhuset of the Kai as her husband?” Rodan said.
The question silenced the crowd more effectively than any spell. The weight of thousands of stares settled on Serovek's shoulders and back, and beside him Anhuset stood rigid, staring straight ahead at the arena's high wall.
This was what she referred to when she told him to say yes to the king's question of marriage. At the time he thought it odd, spoken as it was out of context and as a quick warning before the prison guards interrupted them. He'd probably disappointed her when he refused to stand quietly aside while she faced certain death to prove his innocence. He couldn't find it within himself to regret that, though he planned to apologize later. A marriage proposal though, even one spurred on by a ploy or strategy, was altogether a different matter. A personal one. One that shortened his breath, made his heart beat fast and his soul light with joy.
“Yes,” he said. “A thousand times over. Yes.”
Anhuset's stance didn't change, but Serovek still felt her wilt with relief. Rodan's smile was a thin slash and his brief nod to her a mysterious one. “The margrave has said yes,” he repeated for the crowd's benefit. A few cheers and applause met the announcement. Even more curious speculation arose among the stands. “Is this still your desire as well, Anhuset?”
She nodded emphatically so all could see her answer even if they couldn't hear it. “Yes.”
“So be it.” Rodan spread his arms to encompass all in the forum, raising his voice even though the stone with the spell to amplify it did its work without his help. “By the laws of this land and the approval of this monarchy, the kingdom of Belawat recognizes the marriage of Serovek, Lord Pangion, margrave of High Salure and Anhuset of Bast-Haradis. So may it be. So may it remain.”
The crowd answered back with one thundering voice. “So may it be. So may it remain.”
It was the shortest, strangest wedding ceremony Serovek had ever attended and by far his favorite, highlighted by the irony of exchanging one kind of binding for another when one of