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The mollusks and their bounty of amaranthine dye were the wealth of Bast-Haradis and Ildiko of Gaur the greatest treasure of Brishen Khaskem.
“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.”
It had taken every last drop of control not to shake her, shout at her and ultimately grovel at her feet and beg her to stay.
“I would have been content to live my life as just Brishen,” he whispered into her hair. “Who was loved by Ildiko.”
“I’ll sleep long and hard when I’m dead. You defy death by celebrating life.”
“Prince of night, come back and grow old with me.”
“Guard with your life that which is most precious to me.”
“No. Nothing so grand. 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.”
