The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,65
smell of herbs and smoke infused into the potatoes. Serovek motioned to Erostis to fill another plate as Klanek took his from Anhuset, his gaze hard on her clawed hands as if he feared she'd change her mind and snatch his supper back from him, taking his arm with it.
“Care to brave the roasted maggot? It won't try to kill you like scarpatine.” Serovek couldn't resist teasing her. “Or if you don't wish to take so big a risk, I'll be happy to share a few pieces of mine with you.” He raised his plate in offer.
Her glare might have set him on fire had it stayed on him longer, but the helping of supper Erostis handed her proved a more powerful distraction. All three men watched as she brought the plate up to her nose, indulging in a long inhalation before spearing a potato chunk with one claw and popping it into her mouth. As she chewed, her lamplight eyes widened and rounded.
“This can't be the same disgusting heap of dirt-tasting mush I had to swallow at the Khaskem's wedding dinner,” she declared once she swallowed. She speared another piece, this time eyeing it with a speculative look.
Her audience's laughter coaxed a smile from her, much to Serovek's delight. “One and the same,” he said. “Erostis's boast wasn't an empty one. He's a good cook.”
“Why do you think I'm here?” the soldier added, giving Anhuset a wink. “It isn't because the margrave thinks I'm pretty to look at.”
Anhuset embraced her conversion from hater to lover of the previously despised vegetable with gusto, wolfing down three heaping servings before announcing she intended on abducting Erostis to take him back with her to Saggara so he might share his culinary secrets with the Kai cooks.
Erostis gave his liege a pained look. “Sorry, my lord, but I'm not learning how to cook that bug pie abomination you like to eat if I go there. I have my limits.”
After the destruction of High Salure's kitchen as half his garrison waited outside the doors to do battle with an escaped scarpatine, Serovek agreed with him. “I think it best to leave the preparation and consumption of such a dangerous meal within Kai territory, where the staff knows how to handle one of the creatures in most situations.”
“No pie for you at High Salure, margrave,” Anhuset said with mock sympathy.
“It just means I'll have to visit Saggara more often, madam,” he replied, waiting for her expected scowl at the idea of seeing him. His heart knocked briefly against his ribs as her expression turned pensive instead, nor did she fire back a sharp rebuttal.
Anhuset further shocked him by setting her plate down and announcing she was off to scout the area. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect the fierce Kai sha had found a ready excuse to flee.
She returned just as Serovek finished brushing down Magas for the evening and checked the ropes of the makeshift corral he and Erostis had strung earlier between a grouping of trees. The firelight behind her edged her silhouette in a ruddy corona. Her silvery hair challenged the moon's grace, and the bright tapestry of her eyes glowed in the darkness as she approached him. “I wondered if you'd still be awake when I returned.”
He met her halfway. “Did you discover anything odd?”
She shook her head. “No.” She dragged out the word, and they both paused in their trek back to the fire, stopping next to the wagon.
Serovek frowned. “There's a wealth of reservation in that one word, Anhuset.”
Her lips turned down at the corners. “I could just be twitchy thanks to our trip to Haradis.” She nodded toward the dark barrier of trees from which she'd emerged. “I found three sets of tracks heading in the direction we're traveling, following a line of trampled brush and trails of blood. Boar tracks too. I think a trio of hunters was tracking a wounded hog. The spoor wasn't fresh, but I followed it for a short time until it faded. Nothing of interest really.”
“But?” She might well be twitchy as she claimed, seeing an enemy behind every tree, under every rock, and lurking in every shadow. It didn't matter. He trusted her instincts, and something about the spoor had raised her hackles.
“It feels purposeful.” She blew a strand of silvery hair away from her face, and her foot tapped the ground in a sign of her frustration. “I'm not explaining this right. Old tracks, old blood. An ordinary hunt.