Grateful for the lack of numerous windows that would have flooded the throne room with light this time of day, she stopped squinting and focused her gaze on Rodan, monarch of the kingdom of Belawat. The man she was certain had Brishen abducted and mutilated, the man who sought Serovek's death thanks to fear and paranoia of having his throne usurped. Her upper lip began to curl with the loathing and contempt swelling inside her. She forced both down. Now wasn't the time to allow for temper or obvious dislike. This would be her greatest test in patience and diplomacy, two things no one had ever praised as her strengths.
She genuflected before him, bowed her head and gave the Kai salute of a soldier to their commander. She raised her head to meet his eyes, revolted by the sight of his bloodshot sclera and the milky scale covering one of his faded green eyes. She hadn't thought human eyes could be uglier. She was wrong.
“Sha-Anhuset,” he said in a voice nearly as harsh as his lined and weathered features. “Lord Pangion has written favorably of you in his account of the journey you shared to the Lobak valley. It seems Chamtivos and his men weren't quite prepared to fight a Kai.”
Serovek had been allowed to write an account? Anhuset hoped her expression remained bland while inside she wondered how he'd managed such a feat while imprisoned. She also wondered how much of that account would remain in its original state and how much the king's scribes would alter it. “I don't think the warlord or his men were prepared for Lord Pangion, Your Highness. It was he who killed Chamtivos and hopefully put an end to the fighting in your territories there.” 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.
