North Queen (Crowns Book 1), page 27
“Then he should mean nothing to you,” she cut back.
“I will have the Bear,” he said, his anger rising. “Think of it as the price of peace.”
“Then you’ll have nothing!”
His face hardened. “So will you,” he snarled.
In a single movement of fury, she wrenched away from his loose hold and grasped the hilt of his sword, pulling it free from its scabbard. He moved after her, but she brought the blade up, halting him. “So be it,” she said as she backed against the railing of the balcony. She already had nothing else to lose. She stepped back toward the rail.
He held up his hand. “No!”
She stopped.
“No,” he said, his breath coming quicker. “Don’t.”
Neither of them moved. His eyes held an intensity that unsettled her, but she stood firm. Then his face softened slightly. Still, she didn’t move.
“Those are your terms?” he asked finally.
Norah’s breath caught in her chest. Was she setting terms? Was she seriously considering marrying the Shadow King? She lowered the sword but took another step back. She didn’t feel herself standing before him. Perhaps it was all another dream, a terrifying dream. Suddenly, the image of her on the Shadow throne came crashing back. She swallowed. Was this what she had seen? Perhaps the vision hadn’t meant that she’d take the Shadowlands by force. Perhaps this had been her fate all along.
She took a deep breath and looked around. Fate or no, she couldn’t live like this, with death and destruction. She couldn’t marry a man who did these things for pleasure.
“Before I answer that—what is this place?” she asked him. “What happened here?”
The king paused, letting his eyes wander. He grimaced, as if there was pain for him here. “This is what’s left of Aviron.”
“Where you were captured when you fled Bahoul?”
He nodded. “They sympathized with Aleon. They were enamored by the charm of the empire and Aleon’s riches. Their king, Jaiah, planned to send his daughter with the offer of marriage, along with the gift of my heart cut from my body.”
Her skin prickled.
“They cut open my chest…” His words drifted as he looked out across the hills from the balcony. “But they underestimated Soren.” He paused. “I don’t remember how we made it out. I don’t remember fleeing to the canyons. Only that he got us out and brought me home.”
Her breaths came unsteadily.
“After my coronation,” he continued, “I appointed Soren as my lord commander, and he gave me my first gift as salar—the kingdom of those who’d sought my death.”
Norah remembered the story her grandmother had told her about the destruction of Aviron. If only Mercia knew what had really happened. She turned away, trying to gather her thoughts. Vengeance was never a defense of one’s actions, but things weren’t always as they seemed. These stories she’d been told, the stories that drove fear into so many, they weren’t the truth. At least, not entirely. And she had the power to change everything.
But regardless of the circumstance, she couldn’t condone this devastation. “If we’re to wed, I’ll defend only,” she heard herself say, looking back at him. “Mercia won’t invade another kingdom for you. I won’t have this… all this destruction.”
He gave a slight nod.
“My people will have food and horses and weapons,” she added.
He stepped closer to her. “All that is mine will be yours. Everything and everyone.” There was a weight to his tone, one of assurance. He was committing to her. “And all that is yours will be mine,” he added.
“Except Alexander,” she said firmly.
He sighed, yielding. “I accept these terms.”
Norah’s heart beat in her throat.
“Are we betrothed then?” he asked.
The circumstances were suddenly very real.
“I suppose we are,” she replied, as the weight of sadness shrouded her heart.
Chapter thirty-three
The journey toward Kharav seemed endless. Mikael let her ride the mare of the Wild freely, to her surprise. She followed the king as they made their way through the rocky hills. The commander was quiet, somber. No doubt the news of their marriage weighed on his mind. Norah almost felt sympathy for him.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, something felt off. “We’re heading west?” she asked.
“Your army draws closer,” he told her. “We go to meet them.”
“They’re not behind us?”
“No. They didn’t march for Bahoul. They will come directly through the Tribelands.”
The realization hit her. He had relented too easily in trying to take back Bahoul. Now she understood. He had discovered her army wasn’t headed there. That had been his change in plans.
Her heart raced in her chest. Alexander was close. She wasn’t sure she believed the king’s promise not to take him, not to harm him. There was nothing at all that prevented a battle, only the words spoken between them.
“What will happen when we meet them?” she asked nervously.
He looked at her calmly. “Announce our marriage and send them home.”
“Right,” she breathed, feeling the slightest of reassurance. But her mind wandered to Alexander again, and her anxiousness returned. She didn’t know how she’d tell him she was marrying the Shadow King. Would he understand? Would her people understand?
“How is it you can ride her?” the king asked, bringing her mind back to him. “How can you ride a horse of the Wild?” His question caught the commander’s attention as well.
Norah looked down at the animal and shook her head. “I don’t know. I think she understands me somehow.” It was a mystery to her as well, but there was something different about the mare—they had a connection… like she’d had with the fox when she was lost in the forest.
He raised a brow and looked at the commander, and they rode on. Norah still didn’t understand the significance of the mare. Her mind had been so consumed with Alexander and her army that she hadn’t given it enough reflection. This was a special animal. Perhaps if she had her memories, she’d know why.
The journey was quiet, and Norah found the time blurred as she lost herself in her thoughts. They were tormenting thoughts—Alexander’s face when she’d tell him she was to wed the Shadow King, how she’d leave him to return to the Shadowlands. Each hour weakened her resolve.
She shivered against the winter air and pulled the hood of her cloak forward, trying to find some warmth. Just then, in the distance, Norah spotted movement. She squinted her eyes against the wind.
Horses.
Riders.
Moving quickly toward them.
They drew closer, and her pulse raced. A sword gleamed in the air, held high by the lead rider. They were attacking.
“Mikael!” she called, pulling the mare back.
Norah’s chest tightened. She didn’t even have a weapon. The Shadow King sat quietly on his horse in front of her. He raised his fingers slightly to calm her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the advancing Horsemen, feeling panic well within her. But Mikael seemed indifferent, and Norah forced herself calm. While she considered herself to be ill fated in marrying him, she did trust he’d keep her safe.
The commander slid off his mount and pulled out his axe. She looked at the other soldiers and noted that they hadn’t taken up their arms. But the commander stood, wielding his axe, and waited.
A shrill scream sounded from the lead Horseman, and Norah realized it was a woman. The woman’s horse bore down on the commander with a thunder. Just before she reached him, she leapt from her mount and met his blade with her own. The clash rang through the air as she hit the ground and tucked into a roll, leaping up and turning to meet him again. The rest of the Horsemen fanned out to either side, surrounding them.
The woman fought him back with a fury, and Norah was mesmerized. She was clothed in soft leather and furs, fitted to her form. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in braids, and black markings lined her eyes. She bared her teeth as she exchanged blows with the commander, but there was a hint of a devilish smile—she was enjoying the fight.
She swung high, and he met her blade with his axe, striking it down with a force and pushing her backward. The woman pulled her sword back quickly, slicing into the flesh of his arm and drawing blood. She moved to attack again, but he spun and delivered a blow to her side. She countered with an elbow and caught him on the brow. The commander reached out and grabbed her, sweeping his leg under her and taking her to the ground. She loosed another elbow to his shoulder, and he winced. Pinning her with his weight, he looked at her to yield. Instead, she ripped down the wrap from his face and drew him down into a deep kiss.
Norah gasped, not fully understanding what was happening. The commander broke away in surprise and disgust, releasing the woman. She flashed a fiendish smile and rose, pulling her sword from the ground. “You’re losing your edge, Soren,” she goaded him, eyeing his arm. She stepped forward, looking closer at him. “Or perhaps you’re still recovering from whoever gave you that look.” She grinned, nodding at the bruising on his face.
The commander shot Norah a glance, and the woman followed his gaze. It was as if she hadn’t realized they were there.
“Tahla,” Mikael greeted her.
“Salar,” she replied with a nod, a formality coming to her. Then her eyes widened as they found Norah. “Savantahla?” she gasped. Tahla drew closer to them as though she were looking at a ghost.
Norah didn’t understand, but she remained still, keeping the hood of her cloak pulled down low. It took her a moment to realize the woman was looking at the mare, not her.
Tahla glanced at the commander and then back to the horse, stepping even closer. The commander’s axe came up, halting the woman. She scowled at him but then turned her attention back to Norah.
“How is this possible?” she asked. “How do you ride with Savantahla?”
Norah still didn’t understand.
And Mikael didn’t answer her question. “We seek accommodations for the night, as my armies pass through. We go to meet the Northmen at the far Canyonlands.”
“The Northmen?” she said with surprise, lifting her brow. Then her face hardened slightly. “You go to battle the North Queen?” she asked, glancing at him for a moment but then looking back at the mare. “You call us to go with you?”
“No.” Looking at Norah with a slight curve in his lip, he opened his hand and gave a nod. She pushed the hood of her cloak back, showing herself. “This is the North Queen,” he said.
The woman drew in a bewildered breath, speechless. “The North Queen commands Savantahla?” she asked finally. “And rides with you?”
“We go to announce our marriage,” Mikael said. “The union of Kharav and the North.”
“Sol!” Tahla exclaimed, which Norah assumed to be an expression of disbelief. “Marriage?” the woman asked, looking at the commander, not seeming to believe the king. “Kharav and the North?”
A smile came across Tahla’s face, and her brows raised in astonishment. “That’s unexpected. I don’t know what to say.” She paused, shaking her head. “But the Uru would be honored to host you this evening. And to host Savantahla.” She swung onto her horse with a big grin and waved them to follow.
Norah urged her mare close to Mikael as they rode after the Horsemen toward their village.
“I don’t understand. Who’s that?” she asked Mikael quietly.
“Tahla Otay of the Uru. Her father is chief.” He paused. “When Soren and I escaped Aviron, I was near death. Tahla and her father helped me, healed me, and saw us through the canyons and back home.”
It was all coming together for her now. Bahoul. Aviron.
“The Uru are the largest of the Horsemen tribes,” he told her. “And they’re friends. They’re keepers of the western Canyonlands, one of the only two entryways into Kharav.”
Norah had heard of the Canyonlands but didn’t fully appreciate their magnificence until they came into view. Massive cliffs of black rock rose from the ground, as if split by the gods, creating thin passages in their crevices with an eerie darkness at their base. As they wove deeper into the dark labyrinth, she urged her mare closer to Mikael’s mount.
The ground beneath them held patches of ice, but as they rode farther, she noticed small trails of running water. Deeper into the canyons, the water ran faster. They moved to the banks, and at the end of the canyons, the water poured into a large river.
They followed it around until the earth broke and Norah heard the sound of waterfalls. A path emerged and narrowed, and the descent became steeper. She fell back, behind Mikael, as they rode single file. The trail turned sharply and then climbed back up. They rounded another corner, and a massive village sprawled out in front of them. Small structures were carved into the hillside, revealing hundreds, perhaps thousands, of families and stone homes.
The sight took Norah’s breath away. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
Tahla glanced back at her and smiled.
As they approached the village, people gathered at the edge. There were many, but as they drew near, Norah spotted a man with a regal stature. He wore a wrap beautifully twisted around his head and adorned with beaded overlays, and in his right hand was an intricately carved wooden staff.
Tahla called to him in Urun tongue, and he looked wide-eyed at Norah and her mare. He replied and bowed his head low. Norah shifted uncomfortably as the Uru people dropped to their knees, bowing as well.
“My father says it’s a great honor to host Savantahla,” Tahla said. “We give thanks to Savan for this blessing.”
Norah glanced at Mikael. He gave her a small smirk, amused by her confusion, and slid off his horse. She watched as he made his way to the chief and bowed low to the old man, his reverence unmistakable. The chief reached out and put his hand on Mikael’s shoulder and then pulled him into an embrace. Norah was surprised at the emotion that touched her, and she swallowed it back with a smile.
The army set camp outside the city. Norah left the mare with other horses by the river and followed Mikael to a large fire with people gathered in a circle around it.
“Why is Abilash a king and… this man… a chief?” she asked him.
“Coca Otay is his name. The Uru are one tribe, and Coca Otay leads them. Abilash has taken many tribes. He is a chief of other chiefs.”
“Is Abilash chief of Coca Otay?”
“I would never allow that,” he told her.
Strange, Norah thought, that Mikael had such influence on the Horsemen tribes. She watched as the Uru welcomed him, bowing, smiling, and giving him small gifts. They respected him here, loved him even.
A hefty Urun woman offered Norah a hot drink and motioned for her to sit. She took a seat on a large stone and watched the celebration around her. They were happier about her marriage than she was, but Norah had to admit she wasn’t unhappy. Everything was so different from what she had expected. Even Mikael. Especially Mikael. Nothing was as it seemed, nothing was as she’d imagined. What else was hiding in this strange, special world?
Chapter thirty-four
The fire blazed brightly in the late afternoon’s dying sun, and the sound of celebration rang through the Urun city. Norah sat quietly, soaking up the warmth and enjoying the first feeling of ease since her capture. She watched the flames of the fire reach into the night as dancing Horsemen celebrated around it. Pulsing, twisting, turning, they moved their bodies to the sound of the drums—like spirits not bound to the earth.
She sensed eyes on her and looked over to see Tahla watching her.
The chief’s daughter moved to the large rock beside her and gave her a friendly smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” Tahla told her. “I just didn’t believe the stories. But now you’re here.”
“What stories?” Norah asked, puzzled.
“The North Queen with winter hair. I couldn’t even picture you. Can I touch it?”
Norah smiled awkwardly. “My hair?”
Tahla grinned with a nod.
Strange. Norah shrugged. “Sure.”
Tahla reached out and combed her fingers through the blonde locks. “I don’t know what I was expecting. I imagined ice in some form.” She smiled sheepishly. “It feels like normal hair.”
“It is normal hair,” Norah said, and both women laughed.
“Do all people in the North have light hair?”
Norah nodded. “Most of them, although not as light as mine. Many are more golden haired.”
Tahla’s mouth opened in surprise. “Even the men?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds beautiful,” the chief’s daughter said with a smile.
Norah thought of Alexander. “It is,” she said, and they laughed again.
Tahla quieted, but still radiated a burning curiosity. “How do you command Savantahla?”
Norah didn’t know how to answer. “I’m not even sure what that is. Do you mean the horse?”
“Savantahla means the spirit of the Wild,” she explained. “Animals from the land of the Wild, they’re all Savantahla. Horses, birds, wolves, foxes. Savan is in all of them.”
“Foxes?” Norah asked in surprise. Her mind drifted back to the fox in the Wild. Now she was certain they were connected. But how were they connected to her?
“Any animal of the Wild. You know them by their compulsive beauty, and their eyes.”
Norah thought about the mare. She was beautiful. Her mane was thick and long, and even without the sun, her dappled coat shined. Norah knew that compulsive beauty, and she knew the eyes: a hypnotizing gold. “I don’t command her,” Norah told her. “I only ask of her.”
Tahla paused. “They say only witches can speak to Savantahla.”
Norah raised a brow and rocked her head to the side. “I’m not a witch, although I have been accused of being one.”
