The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,49
she was bare to the wind and sun, with chill bumps covering every bit of skin. Her nipples ached from the cold, and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. A strangled sound reached her ears, and she paused from stuffing her clothing deep into the oilskin she carried to catch Serovek peeling off his trousers, leaving him as naked as she.
He was an impressive sight. Muscular and long-legged. A big man with a physique hardened by years of martial training and horsemanship. Her gaze drifted over him, stopping at his groin to stare admiringly at his endowments. “So the rumors were accurate,” she said bluntly. “I wondered. And doubted.”
He exhaled a combination of a cough and startled laughter before clearing his throat. “Did you now? I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating. You're refreshingly forthright.”
The heat of a blush suffused her skin, chasing away the cold. She'd never been one to mince words, but there were times when it was better to keep one's thoughts to oneself. This was probably one of those times. But what was said was said, and she couldn't roll back time. “I don't know how else to be, Stallion.”
“And I'm grateful for it,” he replied. He swept a hand down his torso. “If it were warmer...well, you aren't seeing me at my best.” He winked.
“I've seen you at your best.” Her tongue had taken on a life of its own, refusing to heed the command of her brain which shouted at her to shut up. “On the summit of a tor, as an eidolon returned from battling demons, in a fight with those who tortured my liege. The gods were generous with you, but that isn't what elevates you or any man.”
With that said, and the fires of mortification still singing through her blood, she didn't wait for an answer or rebuttal. Instead, she lifted her pack and shoes, inhaled a bracing breath and waded into the river.
All thoughts of Serovek's naked beauty fled her mind at the first lap of the Absu's icy caress on her skin. Every Kai curse word she'd learned from childhood to present day poured from her lips in a stuttering stream as she swam across the narrow channel, keeping the arm holding her gear above her head. Behind her, a litany of snarling Beladine invectives filled the air as the margrave joined her.
The Absu's waters were numbingly cold, never warming even after their vigorous swim. Once out of the water, Serovek shook like a drenched dog, scattering a shower of water droplets in every direction. “Fuck, it's cold,” he declared through chattering teeth, accompanied by a shiver as he sloughed more water off his skin with his hands. His hair hung in a dripping horse's tail over one shoulder. The bracing cold had washed his complexion of any ruddiness. Anhuset found him almost attractive.
They hurriedly dressed in the still-dry clothes dug from their oilcloth packs. She almost groaned aloud at the blissful feel of thick dry wool wrapped around her. She'd left her cloak with her gear in favor of a padded tunic and a small cap she now pulled down over her chilly ears. It did nothing to shield her from the afternoon sun's brightness, but they'd be in the forest shade soon. She'd just have to squint until then.
Serovek fastened on his second boot and stood. He flexed one foot, frowning. “I think my toes have frozen together. At least we won't have to swim on the return trip.”
“We don't have much sunlight left. We'll need to walk to warm up.” Her back teeth clacked across her words. He was right. It was fucking cold, and standing about complaining wasn't going to make things any better. She did as he had, drying her feet and slipping on her boots before setting off toward the line of trees standing sentinel in front of them. Behind their shield wall, lay a sun-dappled trek through a dense understory and beyond that, Haradis.
Serovek fell into step beside her, still shivering. He carried a long knife in one gloved hand and used the other to help clear a path. She carried a similar knife, the weapon serving as both slayer and scythe if needed. They cut through a barrier of crackling thorn bushes, still dry and brown from the last days of a clinging winter. “It's a good thing we aren't hunting or being hunted,” she muttered. “We're making more noise than a herd of