gasps went up when he tugged Anhuset's gag down to her neck without hesitation or concern he might lose his hand. His nose wrinkled when he caught the smell on her. “Are you bleeding anywhere or having trouble breathing?”
She was tempted to say yes and beg him to untie her so she could check, but instinct told her he'd know she was lying, and his warning to her guards echoed in her mind. “Just a few bruises,” she said.
He nodded and left her to see to the man whose screams had weakened to pitiful moans. Anhuset couldn't make out what Karulin said, but when he returned to her, he eyed her with renewed caution and a faint approval she was certain she didn't imagine. “It seems there's no part of a Kai that isn't dangerous,” he said. “You shattered Lewelis's nose and knocked out three of his teeth. You'll have a knot on your brow for the doing, and you stink worse than a dead weasel, but you didn't come out the loser.”
Soaked in piss, tied like a hog, and held captive by a mad bastard eager to make her the focus of some future and no doubt violent game didn't feel much like winning, but at least now Chamtivos's men would think twice before trying to make sport of her a second time.
Chamtivos returned from the tent to join their little gathering. After listening to Karulin's summary of events, he tutted, gave Anhuset a once-over glance filled with revulsion, and left her to help Lewelis to his feet. He listened to the man's complaints of her ill-treatment of him with an attentive expression and a few sympathetic nods. Even she gasped along with the others when he suddenly pulled a knife and slashed Lewelis's throat in one swift arc.
Chamtivos turned away before the body hit the ground, and once more she caught a glimpse into the cruelty-laced madness lurking behind the boyish façade. She stiffened when he walked toward her. The crowd backed away, except for Karulin, who eyed his master as warily as he did Anhuset.
The warlord wiped his blade clean on a bystander's sleeve. That person dared not utter a word of protest. “The Kai woman is my captive,” Chamtivos said in a strangely cheerful voice. “Not yours. Mine. And while she lives, I think of her as one of my possessions.” He offered them all a sunny smile that made everyone take at least two steps back. “I don't like people touching my things without my permission. Do it again, and you'll join Lewelis there, feeding the vultures and the worms.”
His gaze settled on Anhuset. “You're a vicious cunt,” he told her. “Ogran was right when he said you were worth three humans in a fight. Day after tomorrow promises to be an exciting day indeed.” The maniacal glee in his voice sent splinters of ice through her veins. She didn't ask him to clarify or expound. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He'd only drop more obtuse hints as a way to torture her, hoping to seed her fear and drink it like a poisoned nectar. Instead she focused on his last statement. Ogran.
Her suspicions had borne out. He might not have the funds to bribe a warlord to murder a margrave, but he was just as involved in its planning.
Chamtivos gestured to the group in general. “Get her rinsed off. It's bad enough having to look at her. I don't want to have to smell her too.”
He strolled away but not before Anhuset spotted blood on his clothes and his hands. Dried blood that didn't belong to the dead Lewelis. Her heart thudded heavy. Serovek.
She clenched her jaw under the dousing of ice water, nearly breaking her back teeth in the effort not to screech from the shock of cold pouring over her. The shivers she couldn't control. They worsened every second until she almost convulsed from muscle spasms. At least she no longer smelled like a dead human's piss.
Karulin came to her rescue yet again, this time carrying a blanket. “My gods,” he muttered as he dragged her to a dry patch of ground. “You're a lot heavier than you look.”
You're just a sad, weak human, she thought, unable to stop her teeth from chattering long enough to speak.
Rescuer he might be, but Karulin was also cautious. He draped the dry blanket over her wet form, then pulled another strip of cloth from a pocket of his tunic. This time he didn't have