“I've never heard of Tineroth either. A city that size reached by a bridge of such grandiose size and design would be well-known by those living in the area and appear on every map, even as ruins. Care to wager that if we returned there tomorrow, both would be gone?”
After the events on the bridge, there'd been no debate over whether or not to journey through the territories plagued by Chamtivos and his band of raiders. It was a dangerous route, but no one wanted to attempt a crossing through the haunted city, not even Erostis or Klanek, who'd only seen some of what occurred on the bridge.
“You already lost our bet over who was fastest across the bridge,” she scoffed. “Are you trying to beggar yourself to me with these bets?”
He chortled. “I have a feeling I'd win this particular wager. That city was no more anchored to earth than the mist covering it.”
She agreed. “And exactly why I won't take that bet.” In other circumstances she might not have beaten him across the ravine. Serovek was a big man, but also a surprisingly fast one. Still, after hearing phantom humans chant ancient bast-Kai in sepulchral voices, she'd practically sprouted wings in her eagerness to get far away from the restless dead.
Serovek left her for a moment, returning from his sleeping spot with his pipe. “Care to join me?” He held up the pipe in offer.
She declined, content to watch him prepare the pipe for smoking. There was something about his actions that soothed her, and she turned on her side to face him.
He had good hands, deft in everything they did, from controlling a horse and wielding a sword to extracting a bodkin point from her shoulder and snapping a man's neck as punishment for the crime of murder. His fingers were straight, with short, clean nails. She'd known the feel of those hands clasped with hers, on her shoulders in a stable after Magas nipped her. What would it be like to have that strong, capable touch on other parts of her body? Did he seduce his lovers with a caress that promised even greater pleasure? The stars above winked back at her but offered no insight or answers.
“What weighty ponderings have painted such a black scowl on your face, Anhuset?” Serovek held the unlit pipe in one hand, his head tilted to one side as he regarded her. The fire limned his face and body in flickering light.
Anhuset would die a thousand deaths before revealing her speculations to him. She asked a question guaranteed to redirect his attention. “Why have you not remarried?”
His eyes widened before narrowing in silent amusement. He unfolded his big frame to stand—all grace and size and hard muscle. “You always manage to surprise me, firefly woman. Give me a moment, and I'll satisfy your curiosity.”
He left a second time, returning from the campfire with his pipe lit. He resumed his seat beside her, drawing on the pipe and exhaling smoke rings before he finally spoke. “Are you making an offer of marriage?” he asked, no hint of teasing in the question.
She sputtered and sat up. “No!” She glared at his widening grin, which stretched even wider when she harrumphed and resumed her lounging position. “You're the worst sort of tease,” she grumbled.
“Oh, my beauty, you have no idea. I hope one day to enlighten you.” He raised a hand in surrender when she opened her mouth to scold him. “No more teasing,” he said. “I promise.”
“You still haven't answered my question. You're a wealthy Beladine nobleman with land and vassals, an army you can field for your king, and a reputation as an outstanding lover that's gone beyond Beladine borders. Even the Kai have heard of your prowess. I've seen for myself how human women vie for your attention.”
The inner voice she wanted so badly to thrash into silence chose that moment to mock her. Not just the human ones. You're beginning to see him with their eyes.
Serovek blew a thin stream of smoke into the air. The cloud swirled upward in fragrant wisps. “Why do I suddenly feel like the fatted hog?”
“Because a rich, unmarried nobleman of any country is a prize to be won as soon as possible.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “You aren't gameza, are you?”
“A bastard?” He shook his head. “No. Even if I were, it wouldn't matter. I'm the lord of a prosperous estate and have the support of King Rodan. I remain unmarried because I choose to.”
Her thoughts whirled, along with her emotions. Confusion over his lack of motivation in expanding power, wealth, and status through an advantageous union, relief that he showed no preference for some Beladine beauty with strange eyes and small square teeth, who could weave ribbons into her hair with the same ease that Anhuset could handle a sword.
“Do you still grieve your wife?” Maybe that was why he chose not to remarry. Loyalty to a dead woman. Anhuset had never known such depth of feeling for a lover. It seemed to her an awful, vulnerable thing.
Serovek regarded her in silence for several moments before answering. “Delving deep tonight, Anhuset.”
“Tell me to stop and I will.” She strove to understand the heart and mind of this man. Melancholy shadowed his former easy humor, a lingering taint left by his time as eidolon, fighting the galla alongside Brishen.
He shrugged. “I've nothing to hide.” Smoke rings floated around them as he drew on the pipe and exhaled. “You never stop mourning those you loved and lost. Glaurin was a good wife. I honor her by remembering her fondly, all those things about her that gladdened my spirit, instead of those which might have annoyed me. She paid me the compliment of being my wife and giving
