Radiance (Wraith Kings Book 1)

by Grace Draven

  “The first. If you visited me, I’d have to cover all the mirrors in my house or replace a lot of cracked glass. You could put a pack of wolves to shame with those teeth.”

  He snapped his teeth together in a feral grin. She didn’t draw away from him. “At least I have all my teeth, which is more than I can say for a lot of the Gauri men—and women. Besides, I’d rather look like I can bay instead of whinny.”

  They laughed together then until the woman’s features turned somber. “Thank you for not lying about what you thought of my appearance. You might have a face to turn my hair white, but your honesty is handsome.”

  She charmed and fascinated him, and Brishen wished he had the leisure to know her better. But there was no time. He married at dusk when both human and Kai eyes could see each other clearly and recoil at the sight.

  Voices in the distance carried across the green lawn and into the oak’s shaded sanctuary. The woman rose and scraped her hands across the imaginary wrinkles in her skirts. “I have to go. I am missed.”

  Brishen rose as well and captured her hand, surprised at its warmth when he had expected cold, flaccid flesh. She didn’t try to break free of his clasp as he lifted her fingers and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I have enjoyed our chance meeting, madam.” He released her and bowed.

  She returned a brief curtsey and a last smile. “As have I, sir. You have lessened my worries. We’ll meet again.” She turned and hurried toward the voices growing ever closer.

  He might glimpse her at the wedding, but there would be no chance for a second conversation. Brishen called after her. “What is your name?”

  Her voice drifted back on a hot breeze, raising his suspicions and his hope. “Ildiko. I am Ildiko.” She disappeared behind a hedgerow.

  Brishen stared at the path she’d taken, her figure no longer visible. Surely, his luck did not run this true. His Gauri bride was named Ildiko.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You make a passable bride, Ildiko and will adequately fulfill your duty to the kingdom and our family.” Queen Fantine sniffed as she cast a critical eye over her niece’s appearance. “And don’t forget that duty extends to the bedchamber. It doesn’t matter that he’s practically a hobgoblin. You’re not to jeopardize this alliance by denying your new husband.”

  Ildiko clenched her jaw so hard her temples throbbed. Her aunt had repeated this same admonishment so many times, Ildiko could recite it in her sleep. If she said it one more time, Fantine would find herself chewing on a mouthful of one of Ildiko’s beaded slippers.

  A soft rap on the receiving room door drew the queen’s attention away from her. “Enter,” she called out.

  The door cracked open, admitting a wide-eyed court page. To Ildiko, he looked as if he’d eaten a dozen lemons whole. He bowed to Fantine. “Your Majesty, His Royal Highness, Brishen Khaskhem of Bast-Haradis wishes to speak with the Lady Ildiko.” He paused. “Alone.”

  Ildiko’s annoyance became trepidation. She laced her fingers together to hide their trembling and turned to fully face the door. Beside her, Fantine bristled in outrage.

  “I think not. It violates all customs and proper conduct. He can speak to her after the marriage is proclaimed official. The wedding is in less than half an hour anyway. He can wait.”

  A gray hand tipped with pointed nails curled over the page’s shoulder. The man gave a yelp and leapt to the side, leaving space for a cloaked figure to stride through the opening. The queen and the attendants gasped as one. All but Fantine dropped into curtsies as the Kai prince bowed respectfully before her.

  “Your Majesty, I beg your indulgence. A private moment with my bride, please.”

  Ildiko wobbled in her curtsey. That voice! She recognized that voice. The cloak was different than the one he’d worn in the garden—still muted tones of black and gray but lavishly embroidered and cut more for ceremonial use than everyday wear. Amongst the vibrant roses, he’d been a shadow. Here in the receiving room, backlit by the western sun’s fiery descent, he was a featureless silhouette.

  She straightened to stand silent and impassive next to Fantine. The queen scowled, her expression carving meandering rills into the pale mask of her face paint. “This is improper, sir, prince or not. Can’t it wait?”

  Ildiko slid a surprised glance to her aunt. That Fantine wouldn’t just order the Kai prince to leave at once spoke volumes. She might counsel her niece to death on duty and the importance of this alliance, but she was no hypocrite. She wouldn’t jeopardize it either and afforded Brishen an unusual leniency with her question.

  The prince obviously knew he held the upper hand. “No, Your Majesty; it cannot. I ask only a little of her ladyship’s time.”

  “You will be late for your own wedding,” Fantine cautioned.

  “I assure you, we will not.” Brishen remained exquisitely polite and steadfastly determined.

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. She shot a warning look at Ildiko who had no trouble interpreting its message. Watch your tongue. Ildiko nodded. Fantine motioned to the maids who lined up behind her like infantry. “You have a quarter hour. No more.”

  She swept out of the room on a tide of dignified annoyance. The maid last in line turned, gave Ildiko a pitying glance, and closed the door behind her.

  As soon as they were gone, Ildiko broke into a smile. “It’s you.” She didn’t bother hiding the relief in her voice.

  The prince closed the distance between them and pulled back his hood, once more revealing lamplight yellow eyes set deep in their sockets, sharp-boned features cast in shades of slate, and a toothy smile that made her lock her knees against the urge to leap away from him. He reached for her hand. Ildiko didn’t hesitate and placed her palm in his, still startled by the unexpected warmth of his skin. If she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine his touch as that of a Gauri suitor’s. He brushed his lips lightly across her knuckles a second time and released her.

  “Are you disappointed?” That lambent gaze gave nothing away other than a hard squint as a shaft of sunlight speared a window and glanced along his profile.

  Ildiko led him to a dimmer part of the chamber where candles provided a gentler light. “Relieved, not disappointed.” She gestured to a nearby table holding glasses and a decanter of wine. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  Brishen shook his head, the tiny braids woven into his long black hair swinging with the movement. He shrugged his cloak off his shoulders so that it draped down his back. The motion revealed ceremonial armor of blued plate over layers of rust and brown silk. A sheathed sword hung at his hip. Like those of his kin who guested in the castle, he was tall and lithe, every movement an exercise in grace and economy.

  Ildiko tilted her head to one side. “You knew I was your intended before you came here, didn’t you? How?”

  His eyebrows arched. “You gave me your name when I asked. Remember?”

  “There are several Ildikos living here. It’s a common enough name. I could have easily been a servant.”

  Brishen chuckled and pointed at her. “In that fine gown? Hardly.” He flashed his fanged smile. Ildiko didn’t lock her knees this time. “I just knew. Call it instinct.” He snapped his fingers with a click of nails. “Or Kai magic. We’re all born with a touch of it, you know.”

  She shook her head, her own lightheartedness giving way to worry. “No, I didn’t know. I know very little about those who will become my people once we’re married.”

  He stared at her for a silent moment. Owl’s eyes, she thought. He and his folk had the eyes of nocturnal hunters, but without pupils, just the glowing luminosity that mesmerized her like a mouse.

  “I will teach you,” he said.

  She blinked, startled out of her stupor by his reply and completely forgetting the thread of conversation. “Teach me what?”

  He had thin lips with a natural downturn emphasized by diagonal grooves on either side of his mouth. It gave him a grim look, except when he smiled, which he did now. “About the Kai. If
you wish to learn, I will teach you. Far better than any wrong-headed Gauri book written about us.”

  A wash of relief poured through her, along with a kindling of hope. Her bridegroom wasn’t Gauri; he wasn’t even human. He was, however, congenial and gracious. She had proclaimed his appearance ghastly and his honesty handsome. Ildiko still stood by both opinions. She could have done infinitely worse. More than a few Gauri women had the misfortune to marry human men with handsome faces and ghastly souls.

  “That’s generous of you. I intend to hold you to your offer,” she said. Her curiosity about his visit remained. “I’ve led you astray from your purpose. What did you wish to speak with me about?”

  Brishen clasped his hands behind his back, and Ildiko had the distinct impression he braced himself to approach an uncomfortable subject. “My question is a delicate one, and I mean no insult by its bluntness. Have you thought of the consummation?”

  Ildiko’s stomach undulated against her ribs. She fought down a mortified blush and sought to disguise it by a disdainful rolling of her eyes. Brishen took a quick step back. “Everyone has been thinking of the consummation,” she said. “I can hardly escape all the well-meaning advice, sympathetic pats on the arm, and suggestions for various tricks to employ for how to lie back and think of duty to king and country.” She gave him a wry smile. “The most popular advice is to make sure the room is so dark I won’t be able to see my hand—or yours for that matter—in front of my face.”

  Brishen’s shout of laughter echoed throughout the room before he clamped down on his mirth and settled for a wide grin and luminous eyes that glistened. “I’ve been told something similar, only we should consummate at noon, when I’ll be virtually blind.”

  Ildiko’s muffled her own laughter behind her hand. “May the winged god Bursin save us from so much helpful guidance.”

  The laughter faded but their smiles remained. Brishen’s thinned a little. “What do you want to do, Ildiko?”

  He had asked a question Ildiko thought she’d never hear in her lifetime. No one ever asked her what she wanted; they only told her what she was to do and say. For a moment she was struck dumb. He waited patiently as she gathered her thoughts. “May I be honest, Your Highness?”

  He snorted. “In private, call me Brishen. It’s a decent enough name.”

  “It’s a fine name. Were you actually born during a rainstorm?” Though he didn’t seem as volatile or violent as a storm, his name fit him. Ildiko suspected his easy nature cloaked a character as strong as crucible steel.

  Brishen nodded. “You’re leading me astray again, Ildiko. To answer your first question, yes. I not only desire your honesty, I demand it.” He shrugged. “Besides, I think it a little late to tiptoe around each other, don’t you? I’ve called you hideous, and you’ve expressed your opinion of my looks by declaring them worthy of a skull-crushing. I doubt we’ll offend each other’s vanity at this point. Speak your mind.”

  Ildiko placed her faith in his reasoning and said “I like you, Brishen, but can we delay the bedding? It’s not even necessary, really. I can’t bear you children, and I’m told the Kai royal line is secure. You have how many nephews?” She clasped her hands so tightly together that the beds of her fingernails went white.

  “A veritable litter. Six at last count.” Brishen bowed. “I accede to your wishes, madam.”

  Ildiko forgot propriety, dignity and all reserve. She lunged at Brishen and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He went rigid in her hold; she didn’t care. “Thank you!” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and let him go before he could either free himself or hold her to him.

  He inclined his head as another small smile curved his mouth. “Believe me when I say it is I who should be thanking you.”

  Ildiko returned his smile, then followed his gaze as it drifted past her shoulder and caught. She turned and saw the full length mirror standing in the last rays of afternoon sun. Brishen came to stand beside her and the two stared at their reflections amidst a fine shimmer of golden dust—red-haired Gauri woman and glowing-eyed Kai prince.

  Brishen addressed their images. “We’ll manage well enough together, Ildiko of Gaur.”

  She briefly touched his shoulder. “I believe you, Brishen of Bast-Haradis.”

  A hard pounding on the door warned them their private meeting was over. Brishen presented his arm to Ildiko. “Ready to get shackled, madam?”

  She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Try not to smile too widely, Your Highness. You’ll scare the children in the crowd.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Brishen glanced at his new wife who slouched in the saddle as she rode beside him. They traveled with a party of two dozen Kai toward Bast-Haradis’s eastern borders and the capital of Haradis. A half moon, scudded by fast-moving clouds, glimmered above them. Ildiko’s hair shone gray instead of red in the moonlight, her face wan and drawn from lack of sleep.

  He’d tried to coax her into the small wagon that held a pallet and supplies so she could sleep during the journey. She flatly refused. “Your days are to be mine now. I need to adjust as soon as possible.” She’d punctuated that declaration with a successive trio of yawns.

  Brishen wagered she wouldn’t make it to dawn but had a horse readied for her anyway. He, his bride, and his fellow Kai had taken to the road right after the wedding banquet ended.

  Of the many weddings Brishen had attended during his lifetime, his had been the most ridiculous. The ceremony itself had been a proclamation of unification. Judging by the crowd’s reaction—both Gauri and Kai—it might as well been a declaration of war. Hands had gone to sword pommels on both sides, and each group watched the other, at the ready to hurl themselves across the flower-strewn aisle and cross blades. His kin were easily outnumbered by Gauri court warriors twenty to one. Numbers alone guaranteed that if such a fight broke out, it would be bloody but also brief.

  Considering the Gauri had pursued this alliance with zeal, and the Kai had accepted with enthusiasm, he could only guess that such an acrimonious response to his union with Ildiko had been the gut reaction of two peoples who knew very little of each other and resented giving up one of their own to those they found loathsome.

  He might not be able to read expression in her ghoulish eyes, but he had no trouble interpreting the worry lines creasing his bride’s brow. He didn’t automatically flinch this time when she glanced at him. “Bursin’s wings, Brishen. We’ll never get through the banquet without the spilling of blood.”

  She was right, and he wracked his brain for a way to defuse the tense situation. The air thickened to a simmering broth of hostility when the Gauri bishops proclaimed their union blessed and final. Brishen took both of Ildiko’s hands, leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. She might have mollusk-pink skin, but she was warm and smelled of temple incense. He stepped back and flashed a quick grin.

  Her hands jerked in his grasp before she arched an eyebrow. “Wolf,” she said softly.

  “Horse,” he replied just as quietly.

  Ildiko’s lips twitched before she finally gave in and let loose a peal of laughter. The sound was magic, more powerful than any sorcerer’s spell, more startling than the roll of a Gauri’s eyes. Both the Gauri court and the much smaller Kai contingent visibly relaxed. Hands dropped from pommels, stiff shoulders relaxed and nearly everyone stared at the newly wedded couple as if they were mad.

  Brishen took her in his arms and squeezed her until she squeaked. “Well done, princess,” he whispered in her ear. “Well done.”

  The threat of a brawl still lingered, despite the obvious mutual acceptance between bride and groom. Brishen shuddered in the saddle as he recalled the banquet.

  Until then, he and his fellow Kai had eaten dishes prepared by a Kai cook Brishen’s mother insisted they take with them. The Gauri royal family had willingly offered a portion of the sprawling kitchens so the Kai chef could prepare meals for his people. Brishen had thought it a wagonload of
pretentious nonsense and the complaints from his people about Gauri food juvenile rants until he caught his first whiff of a Gauri dinner being prepared and almost retched. His cousin, Anhuset, had cast him a self-satisfied smirk. “I told you,” she said in a smug voice.

  Oh, how right she had been. At the banquet, he’d sat beside Ildiko through interminable and insincere toasts of happiness to the couple. The wine and ale at least had been exceptional. The food was another matter.

  There had been a moment prior to the wedding when he’d feared a revolt from his kinsmen and a possible hericide. He’d gathered the members of his entourage in his guest chambers for an impromptu meeting.

  “We need to show good faith toward our hosts. We’ll eat what they prepare at the dinner following the wedding.”

  There had been hisses and cries of protest from every Kai. Anhuset’s lip curled in disgust. “Have you seen the food these people eat? If it isn’t already refuse, the way they prepare it turns it into refuse. I wouldn’t feed it to a starved mongrel.”

  Brishen didn’t budge. “Someone rip out your backbones while you waited for me to arrive?” he snapped. That had silenced them all. “It’s one meal. You’re Kai warriors, war-trained and battle-tested. You can choke down a bowl of their soup and smile.”

  “The first time I smiled at a Gauri nobleman, I think he pissed himself.” Anhuset’s comment heralded muffled laughter. She inclined her head toward Brishen. “You are our lord and prince. We follow you.”

  Brishen had narrowed his eyes at her. A challenge cloaked in obeisance. They followed him. That meant they expected him to be the first to try every dish before they did. As their leader, it was a foregone conclusion. The role of leadership carried the burden of setting an example; he’d never turned away from that expectation.