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It was a good thing he never underestimated her martial prowess. He snatched up thesilabatjust in time to deflect her strike with the waster. Nearby, Magas gave a disgruntled whuffle.
Anhuset's narrow-eyed gaze flared bright in the dim stables. “I was talking about your horse.”
“Were you indeed?”
His mild taunt earned him a hard wallop to the hip from her waster. He dodged her open-palmed blow, went low and managed to kick one of her legs out from under her. She stumbled but recovered just as fast. After several feints and counter feints, as well as exchanged blows, they ended up on the stable floor amid a flurry of straw.
Anhuset straddled Serovek's torso, hard thighs clamped against his sides like a vise, her waster's edge pressed to his neck. She gave him a glimpse of her pointed teeth when her lips parted in a smirk. “Now what, margrave?”
“I die from lack of air,” he said on a soft wheeze. “My gods, woman, did you fall on me, or did Magas?”
She gave a scornful huff but shifted position to ease her weight on him. “Better now, dandelion?”
He inhaled a thin breath, still recovering from having his chest flattened. “Never let it be said the Kai are made of flower petals and wool rovings.”
“I don't know how you weak humans ever got this far.”
“We're cunning, feral, and afraid of dying.”
Anhuset arched an eyebrow. “If that was praise toward your kind, it's the worst I've ever heard.”
Serovek savored her considerable weight now that she was settled more on his midriff and pelvis. He glanced to the side at her waster. “Are we finished sparring, or are you planning to wallop me a few more times with your sword?” He didn't mind lying on the stable floor among a cloud of straw remnants, though a tickle in his nasal passages warned of a coming sneeze.
Anhuset tilted her head to one side, studying where the waster's blunt edge rode the ridge of his jugular. “Had this been a real sword and a real fight, I'd have cut your head off by now.”
Her eyes rounded when Serovek gently poked her ribs with thesilabat'stip.
“True, but not before I skewered you like a roasted chicken with this handy stick of yours.”
Her chuff of laughter made him smile. He liked her laugh. From what he was learning about her, she was a solemn woman and her laughter rare. He'd once thought her humorless until she began trading quips and taunts with him. An endless cache of fascinating qualities lay behind those bright citrine eyes and dour expression, and he had every intention of discovering them.
Something in his face must have given away a hint of his thoughts. Anhuset's amusement faded, and the air around them pulsed with a different kind of tension. She pulled the waster away but didn't move from her spot atop him. A slender finger, tipped in a sharp black claw, speared a lock of his hair before twining it around her knuckle. “You're even uglier this close up.”
The blood coursing through his veins rushed toward his groin. He dropped thesilabatto rest his hands on her hips. “And you're just as beautiful.”
Those firefly eyes narrowed. “I imagine that silver-tongued charm felled a battalion of women at the Beladine court.” She gave his hair a quick tug before unwinding it from her finger. “I still won't swive you, margrave.” She rolled off him and stood.
Serovek lay supine a moment longer, missing the feel of her weight and heat on him. “Ah, sha-Anhuset. You're a harsh woman,” he teased. “Breaking my heart as well as my back.”
“Don't tempt me, Lord Pangion. My threat to tear your arms off before this trip is over remains.” She held out a hand, which he took and gained his feet. The yellow shading in her gaze flickered, and Serovek had the sense her gaze passed over him. “You're nimble for such a big man,” she said, the faintest thread of admiration running through her voice. “Fast too.”
He brushed straw bits off his clothes and out of his hair before giving her a wry look. “So to sum up, I'm big, ugly, and annoying.”
Once more, the brief flash of pointed teeth in a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared. “So sayeth you.”
Unlike her, he didn't hesitate in showing her his grin, widening it even more when her nose wrinkled at the sight of his own square ivories. She had made him laugh, made him lust, and most of all made him forget the nightmares that plagued his sleep.
He bowed to her. “You have my gratitude,” he said. “I'll be a walking bruise by daylight, but the sparring did what I couldn't do alone.”
She took thesilabathe held out to her. “And what's that?”
“Quieted the sounds of Megiddo's screams in my head.” Just saying the words made him shudder inside, and he shoved down the echo of the monk's torture and thegalla'slaughter before it broke through the wall of silence he'd built with Anhuset's help.
She passed him to return thesilabatand waster to their place among her baggage. “I've always believed there isn't anything a good brawl and a few bruises can't fix.”
“I'm sure a little Kai magic never hurt either.”
The sudden stiffness in her posture surprised him, and her expression turned wary. “I suppose,” she said in a noncommittal voice that was a telltale sign itself, as was her abrupt change in subject. “You should try and sleep before the dawn comes. Even an hour or two will help.”
