Eidolon (Wraith Kings, #2)

by Grace Draven

“Would you have come back when it was over?” he repeated in those same dead tones. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I would have wanted to.”

He snatched her to him, and her feet cleared the floor for a second time. “I will not give you up,” he vowed between clenched teeth. “I will suffer the ritual, gladly. Let it rip me apart and put me back together again. I will rob my people of their magic and fight the galla. I will not renounce my wife.” He shook against her, burying his face in her neck. “Don’t leave me, Ildiko,” he implored. “The burden is only bearable because you’re here.”

“Nothing good about it. I should be sleeping instead of standing out here half blind and freezing my arse off, waiting for his lordship to arrive. Not only are humans ugly, they’re inconvenient.”

Ildiko was still awake and greeted Serovek with a wide smile and outstretched hands when he entered the great hall. “Welcome, my lord! It’s good to see you at Saggara.” He caught her hands in his and bowed. Wavy dark hair spilled down in a curtain, hiding his face and Ildiko’s fingers. Brishen went rigid. This man had rescued him, and Brishen owed him a life debt, but he found it hard to squelch the jealousy rising within him or the suspicion that behind the hair, Serovek might have kissed Ildiko’s slender fingers. Serovek straightened. “The fair hercegesé,” he said. Brishen’s hand flexed briefly on the hilt of the knife sheathed and belted at his waist.

“You are my queen,” he murmured into her hair. “And my queen you will remain.” She replied with a slurred “I love you, Brishen,” and he exerted all his willpower not to crush her to him, meld her into his skin. Keep her safe. Keep her close.

“Do human women truly find him handsome?” Anhuset’s voice lacked its customary sarcasm. Her question held only disbelieving curiosity. Ildiko chuckled. “I imagine so. He’s blessed with good looks, a fine form and good character.” Brishen’s eye narrowed. Her praise seemed excessive. “And I imagine they don’t call him the Beladine Stallion for nothing.” He scowled.

He sighed and hugged her, careful not to clutch too hard. If he held her as hard as he wanted, he’d break her. She settled into him and was soon slumbering, breath ghosting warmly across his chest. “I would have been content to live my life as just Brishen,” he whispered into her hair. “Who was loved by Ildiko.”

She was life and hope and strength, and he drew on all three as he bent his head to kiss her deeply.

I’m content to live my life as just Ildiko,” she said softly, repeating words similar to those he once whispered in her hair when he thought her asleep. “Who is loved by Brishen.”