Chapter VI Guts
VI Guts
Khay wakes me bright and early, just after dawn.
I stare at the golden light creeping up the wallpaper as my maids bustle around the room, preparing me a basin of hot water and serving tea.
This is an eerily normal morning, save for the early time and the Agnidari man leaning back against the wall and watching it all with amusement.
“I am sorry to say, you probably won’t have so many luxuries at Magnar’s keep,” he drawls when a maid brings me a teacup to bed, and I stretch among my swan down pillows with a yawn.
“I don’t expect any,” I say as calmly as I can.
I haven’t slept nearly enough, I’m hungry and exhausted, and I dread today almost as much as I dreaded death yesterday. The unresolved grief for my father is a pile of stones in my chest.
Khay seems fascinated, tracking the movements of my maids as they dance around the room in a practiced sequence, laying out dress options, underthings and toiletries, adding hot water to the basin, and pouring more tea in my cup as soon as I drain it.
We’re back to a semblance of normalcy now that the servants aren’t being mauled.
“No one takes their meals in bed at the keep,” he says, shaking his head when I accept a pastry covered with nuts and chocolate shavings. “You’ll have to dress before breakfast and sit at the table with everyone.”
I roll my eyes. “You say that like you expect me to find it outrageous. We take breakfasts at the table, too. Mostly on Sundays.”
I bite my tongue as soon as I realize what I said. “We” used to mean me and my father. There is no us anymore. Only me.
“Do you mind?” I glare at the Agnidari, shaking crumbs off my nightshirt. “I need to get changed.”
He cocks an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Then I have to watch so I know what you usually need help with. Don’t mind me, little diamond. I’m your knight, too, now that you’re Magnar’s wife.”
I stare at him, annoyed and confused.
“What do you mean, don’t mind you? I’ll be getting changed. You need to leave.”
Khay pushes away from the wall with a grunt of reluctance. “Fine. But I’ll see you bare sooner or later. I’m your knight.”
I shake my head as I watch him leave, my mind groggy despite the tea, my nerves raw and strung tight with anxiety. I don’t even try to guess what he meant.
“The green one.” I point at my favorite riding habit, one that’s worn soft, with a long train that will be pinned up to my hip when I sit sideways in the saddle.
I quickly don a chemise, and my maids help me with two thin petticoats. They tie soft, worsted wool stockings around my thighs. My hair is gathered into a low bun at my nape, and I pick an everyday hat with a green ribbon to shade my face from the sun.
More underthings and necessary items for the journey are packed in a saddlebag. My coffers will travel in a carriage, which will take much longer to reach the Agnidari keep. We are to travel on horseback.
When all my maids line up in front of me in a silent curtsey, I have to bite back tears. It’s goodbye.
“I wish I could stay with you,” I say, battling grief for the secure, soft life I’ve led until now. “I hope you’ll be safe. Farewell.”
Khay laughs when he sees me outside my door. I take a bracing breath, stifling irritation that curls up my stomach.
“What,” I snap through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry, but is this what you’re wearing?” he asks, chuckling and shaking his head. His dark eyes crinkle with humor. “My lady, with all due respect, this is not the right choice. We’ll be traveling fast, changing horses. This won’t be a picnic in the woods.”
It takes a great deal of effort to stay composed, and my voice still comes out harsh and grumpy.
“This is my most comfortable riding dress. What do you suggest I wear instead?”
“How about some trousers?”
I grit my teeth. Oh, the audacity. “I don’t own any.”
Outside, a war horn blows, its sound shriller than that of the hunting horns I know. Khay looks at the ceiling with a weary sigh, as if praying for patience.
“See? That’s why I should have stayed and watched. I would have found you a pair of trousers, but it’s too late now. Come. We have to go. I hope you’re wearing something appropriate underneath, at least.”
I nod, biting the inside of my lower lip to keep my face impassive.
It’s not like I picked a pair of silk stockings. Wool is very appropriate for riding.
Khay leans down to take my hand and pulls it up as he straightens. “Come on. There’s one bit of business Magnar needs to get done, and then we’re off. Hope you had a good breakfast while you were changing, because we’re not stopping until noon, at least.”
I had three bites of pastry, after which my stomach rebelled. I don’t say it out loud, too busy running to keep up with Khay’s long steps.
He leads me out into the inner courtyard that’s filled with Agnidari men. I take a shaky breath, seeing how many there are. Those I saw yesterday in the throne room were just a fraction of Magnar’s army, and there are hundreds of warriors standing in the remnants of grass trodden into bloody mud.
They part when they see me, creating a narrow corridor leading to the cobbled center of the courtyard, where Magnar stands. An Agnidari warrior kneels at his feet with his hands tied behind his back.
“There is always one,” Khay says with a sigh.
I straighten and step into the passage. It’s dark, the tall forms of the Agnidari casting shadows on me. It feels a bit like walking through a thick grove of young trees. They are silent, and I feel unpleasantly aware of my every step and breath.
“Thank you for joining us, my queen,” Magnar says with a small bow.
His hair is braided today, a few wisps of white framing his face. I remember with a jolt how Khay called him beautiful. In the fresh light of morning, wearing leathers free of blood and clean boots, he is, indeed—not disgusting.
When he smiles, seeing the way I study him, I don’t flinch away from the teeth peeking from between lush, dark blue lips. I still hate them. I just promised myself not to show my fear today.
Magnar looks at the crowd of his warriors gathered in front of him. His face grows sharp, eyes cold as he unsheathes his sword with a slick, metallic sound.
“Our brother in arms, Ghisan, disobeyed my order and raped a Farneerian after I forbade it. He will be punished.”
My eyes widen in fear as the sun glints along the deadly edge of Magnar’s sword. Is he going to…? I try to move back, realizing how close I stand, only five human-sized steps between me and the kneeling warrior. Khay tugs me closer and Magnar turns to me, his voice quiet but cutting.
“He disobeyed the order I issued to please you, my queen. Have the guts to face the consequences.”
Khay chuckles under his breath. “Guts. That’s a good one.”
I trap my plea to the gods behind clenched teeth and look down at the blue-haired Agnidari warrior. He seems young, but as he sneers up at Magnar, I see he lacks one of his front teeth.
“You promised us females!” the bound man spits, puffing up his bare chest. “You’re a weakling who can’t keep his word. Not my king!”
There are murmurs in the crowd behind us, quiet and restrained. Magnar cocks his head to the side, his eyes cold and thoughtful, manner calm. I am grudgingly impressed. A man who doesn’t rage when his authority is challenged is a rare sight.
“I promised you females during the war,” he says, his confident voice carrying.
“I kept my word. But the war is over. We won. I gave you victory, I gave you peace, and I will not let a horny cunt like you jeopardize this victory just because you like it too much when your women cry. Say your prayers, Ghisan.”
Ghisan spits on the cobbles at Magnar’s feet with hate, his muscular chest heaving with rapid breaths, skin shining with sweat. Magnar rolls his shoulders, and with movements so fast, they almost blur before my eyes, he swings the sword and cuts up.
For a moment, everything is still. In the silence, a bird trills in a nearby tree.
With a horrid splat, Ghisan’s bowels spill onto the cobbles. I hold my breath, squeezing Khay’s hand so hard, I’ll probably bruise him. My eyes are open, and not because I’m brave. I simply cannot look away from the gore.
The intestines are pale and smooth, bathed in blood, and he is not dead yet, oh no. The warrior reaches down with a grunt of pain, grabbing fistfuls of his entrails and trying to stuff them back into his gaping stomach cavity. They slip through his fingers, slimy and hot.
Magnar takes a piece of cloth offered by one of the warriors who assisted with the wedding yesterday, the bald Arvi, and wipes blood off his sword. When he’s done, he sheathes it at his hip and tosses the dirty cloth at Ghisan.
“Shall we?”
Magnar the Tyrant offers me his hand gallantly, not even a minute after he disemboweled a man. I feel faint, black spots dancing before my eyes. As if in a nightmare, one where I cannot run or scream for fear of attracting a predator’s attention, I take his hand and follow without protest.
“Bold choice of an outfit, my dear,” Magnar murmurs, leaning closer to shorten the distance between us. “I like it.”
“Why does everyone comment on it?” I mutter, squeezing his hand as tight as I did Khay’s. My heart is hammering, and I’m still lightheaded. “This is a perfectly ordinary riding dress.”
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
We reach the high castle’s gate on the other side of the courtyard, and I stop, looking at the remnants of it.
It’s torn open, surrounded by splinters, and about a dozen Agnidari warriors are hard at work gathering the shredded wood, some manning trestles supporting long, thick planks.
They are fixing what they broke to make the castle secure.
“The gate,” I say through a tight throat, this new violence briefly wiping away the sight of spilled guts. “It was… My father said it was impenetrable. He… At night, when I had nightmares, he’d say I was safe because no monsters could pass through this gate.”
“And look at all the monsters that marched in as soon as it fell.”
I shake my head, forcing back hot tears crowding behind my eyelids. “Doesn’t matter. My horse is in the stables, if you haven’t burned them down.”
I try to tug him right, to the outer buildings built around the lower castle’s courtyard, but Magnar chuckles and pulls me toward the gate in the outermost wall of the castle.
This one was the first they broke open, and it only took them a day.
The lower castle gate was much weaker than the one guarding the innermost buildings.
“You’re not riding alone, my queen. I don’t want to waste time chasing you when you inevitably try to escape.”
“What?” I try to stop, but he drags me with shocking force, and I have no choice but to follow. “Then how…”
“With me.”
We cut through the lower castle’s courtyard that teems with Agnidari and humans hard at work. Even from a distance, I can tell human servants avoid the Agnidari as much as possible, but no one attacks anyone. The bodies of my father’s soldiers are nowhere to be seen. It’s almost… normal.
Like Magnar said. The war is over.
When we reach the greensward outside the castle walls, I gasp softly seeing the sea of dark tents.
This is where the Agnidari lived during the siege, the tents put up just outside our arrows’ reach.
The camp is busy, even more warriors strutting around, carrying things, some packing the tents.
When we pass, they press their fists to their chests, greeting Magnar.
I feel hot and sweaty in my petticoats, and the late summer sun beats down on my hat with merciless heat. The air smells of leather, horses, and red clover. My calves cramp from the fast pace Magnar sets, though I suppose it’s leisurely for him and his long legs.
And ahead, behind the camp…
“By goddess Lirande’s veil,” I whisper, gaping at a herd of the largest horses I have ever seen in my life.
“Is she a riding goddess?” Magnar asks with an amused huff. “If not, find someone else to pray to. Those thighs will get quite a pounding today. Pity it will be my steed’s doing, not mine.”
I can’t deal with his taunting right now, so I ignore it, trapping the scream of rage boiling in my throat. Decorum, princess. Good manners above all.
But when Magnar stops in front of a black horse with a shockingly glossy coat, I can’t hold back a tiny whimper of misery. The saddle is wrong, of course. I finally see why everyone was so judgmental about my attire.
“What is it?” Magnar asks, turning until his back is to the sun, his shadow protecting me from its heat.
“I have only ridden side-saddle before,” I say quietly, clenching my fists when he lets go of my hand.
I realize I forgot my riding gloves, too. This final inconvenience, small though it is, makes me fall apart. The day ahead seems insurmountable, like there is no way in hell or heaven I’ll live through it. I can’t bear it. Tears burn my eyes, and I blink them away with anger.
Khay, Arvi, and the soldier with thin red braids I saw yesterday tend to three massive horses nearby. I still can’t comprehend the size of those steeds. There’s no way I can mount one without help.
“Side-saddle?” Magnar frowns, watching me seriously, and I am so grateful for this crumb of attention. “What does it mean? I am not familiar with the riding habits of human royalty. Other human women I saw rode astride, like men.”
I shake my head once. “It’s… unseemly for a princess to ride astride. I… I learned how to ride with both legs on one side. Without… spreading them.”
My face heats as I explain. It all feels dirty and indecent, but when I glance at Magnar, bracing for another taunt, his face looks pained rather than gleeful about my misery.
“I won’t let you ride alone,” he says with a sigh. “Besides, that side-saddle technique sounds unsuitable for long-distance travel. How long was your longest ride?”
I hate to admit he’s right, but there’s no point in lying. “Two hours, give or take.”
He nods, then suddenly, he’s on his knees at my feet, his large palms circling my ankle under the hem of my dress.
I gasp, forgetting my tongue as he swiftly runs his hands up my calf, over my knee, and higher.
They stop and linger where the ribbon tying my stocking around my thigh presses into my flesh.
For a shocking, indecent moment, he caresses the bare skin of my inner thigh; then he’s up faster than lightning as my dress drops back around my feet.
I’m dizzy and a thousand times hotter than before.
“That won’t do,” Magnar says, his voice neutral, face wiped of emotion. “Come with me.”