North Queen (Crowns Book 1), page 42
Soren wanted blood so badly he could taste it on his tongue. He put his hand on his dagger again, curling his fingers around the hilt to settle his fury. But there was no settling.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Mikael said softly as he drew back from Norah’s lips. “But I’ve kept the lord commander waiting long enough.”
Norah didn’t want him to leave either, but she understood. She gave him a smile. “Go on, then.”
“I’ll return in four days.”
She nodded.
“Goodbye, Salara,” he whispered, and kissed her once more. Then he stepped out the door and headed toward the castle, leaving her alone in the quiet.
Norah waited a moment, her mind in a fog. She brought her fingers to her lips. She had never imagined this life. Mikael had woken a feeling inside her she struggled to accept. It was no longer just a marriage for an alliance. She wanted to be with him. Norah smiled to herself as she stepped out of the conservatory, heading back toward the castle.
She almost didn’t feel the blade as it plunged into her belly.
The second stab came in an instant, spilling a trail of blood to the ground. Her blood. She clutched her stomach as the red warmth saturated the front of her dress.
Norah stumbled back. What was happening? Her legs felt like they weren’t her own, and they folded under her weight. She tried to catch herself as she fell, but she couldn’t feel her arms. She lay on the ground, looking up at the sky. It was so gray. No clouds, just gray. She blinked as it grew darker.
“Where’s the light?” she asked the hands that grabbed her.
But there came only darkness.
Chapter fifty
Soren heard the door to the conservatory open and peered around the wall to see Mikael stepping out, leaving the queen inside and heading toward the stables. He leaned back against the stone in the recess and waited. The king would be looking for him now.
He gripped the dagger at his side. Blood settled him. Blood created fear, and fear gave him control. But he wasn’t in control now, and no amount of blood would solve that.
His skin burned with hate. The Battle of Bahoul felt like a lifetime ago, but when he thought of everything he’d lost, everything the Northmen had taken from him, it was as if it had happened yesterday. His mother, his brother, his sister. His father. His land. Now to have the North Queen in Kharav, as his salara… this he couldn’t accept. And Salar had changed. He saw it—Mikael’s love for her.
But Mikael refused to see this madness. Even with the visions that foretold his fall, he chose the North Queen. And he gave her everything she asked, everything he thought she wanted. He even protected the Bear, the man that would bring his own end, all because she asked it of him.
He watched his breath in the winter air. When he heard the conservatory door open again, he knew it was the queen. He delayed, waiting for her to go back into the castle. He’d rather not face her either. But it wasn’t the sound of the castle doors he heard as he waited for the queen to go inside. Footsteps rang out—someone running. He peered around the corner again and saw a man fleeing around the conservatory and into the thick of trees behind.
Then he saw the queen.
Something was wrong.
She stood, looking down. From her stomach, blood spilled down the fabric of her gown to the ground below. She stared at her hands, swaying. Then she staggered forward and collapsed.
“Bhastian!” Soren thundered as he raced to her side. He dropped to his knees beside her, covering her stomach with his hands to stop the bleeding. Bhastian and another Crest guard tore through the doors at his call and looked at him in alarm.
“A man!” he barked at them. “He’s gone into the wood. Go!”
They raced after.
“North Queen,” he said, his worry rising. “North Queen!” But she didn’t respond. He pulled her into his arms and carried her into the castle. “Healer!” he bellowed, drawing another wave of guards. “Get the healer! And Salar!”
He carried the queen down the hall and up the stairs, toward her sanctuary. The queen’s maid met him halfway down and gasped when she saw them. Then she spun around and ran ahead to prepare the room.
Soren made his way into the chamber, carefully bringing her through the door, and laid her on the bed. Her blood covered him, running down his stomach and soaking into his breeches, which now stuck to his skin. He pressed his hands back over her stomach to slow the flow.
“North Queen!” he called to her again. He held pressure on her wounds with one hand as he checked her pulse with the other. Her heart still beat, but faintly. He pressed the wound tighter. Never had he thought he’d wish the North Queen to live.
It seemed to take an eternity for the healer to arrive. He was breathless from the run and started looking over the queen’s body, measuring the extent of her injuries.
“Are you blind?” Soren snapped. Fuck the four kingdoms—this healer would need a healer of his own if he didn’t get to it.
“I see it, I see it,” the healer said quickly, and pulled some shears from his bag. He quickly cut away the gown.
Mikael thundered into the room, his eyes wide and his face etched in horror. In seeing the queen, his face twisted in anger, and his eyes burned. He rushed to her side. “What happened?” he raged.
“She was attacked,” Soren told him. “Outside the conservatory.”
“Who was it?”
Soren shook his head, still holding pressure to the queen’s stomach. “I didn’t see. Bhastian and the Crest are after him.”
The healer stepped beside Soren and motioned him to loosen his hold. Soren eyed him skeptically, then raised his hands and stepped back. Blood seeped from the wounds again, and the healer quickly covered them and reapplied pressure. He mumbled some unintelligible words to his assistant, who dug in his pack for more tools. Soren’s agitation grew. If this healer let her die…
“What of it?” Mikael urged the old man from the other side of the bed. “How bad is it?”
The healer shook his head. “Wounds to the abdomen are extremely dangerous. I can stitch her, but I have no way of knowing the damage inside.”
“Will she live?”
“I don’t know,” the old man replied.
Mikael’s nostrils flared. “She’d better, or you’ll join her.” He sank down beside the North Queen as the healer worked, his fingers on her cheek. He looked up at Soren, his eyes rimmed red. “Brother,” he said hoarsely. “Bring me the man who did this.”
Mikael’s emotion for this woman knifed him. But he gave a stiff nod and turned to his mission. There was a man in Kharav that thought he could take what belonged to Salar. And Soren would see him dead.
Chapter fifty-one
The thunder of galloping horses shook the ground as Alexander rode through the gates of the dark castle of the Shadowlands, surrounded by Shadow soldiers. He’d pushed the pace hard in returning. They slowed only to rest their horses and sleep for a short stretch each night, but Alexander hadn’t slept. When the Shadow soldiers had found him, they’d said only that Norah had been injured, nothing more. It was this unknown that pushed him harder.
Part of him wondered if Norah might not be injured at all. Perhaps it was a ploy to draw him back into the hold of his enemy. It didn’t matter. He would come.
He drove his mount beyond the courtyard and up the stairs to the iron-barred doors, not waiting until his horse stopped before sliding to the ground. Shadow soldiers left their mounts in the courtyard but tailed after him as he tore into the castle and raced up the stairs toward Norah’s sanctuary. When he reached the alcove of the door, a sword rose to meet him, its point hitting just above his breastplate at his throat, stopping him in his tracks.
At its hilt—the Destroyer.
The dark-eyed beast of a man pushed him back into the hall with the tip of the blade.
“I want to see her,” Alexander demanded.
A deep vibration came from the Destroyer’s chest—a chuckle. “I’m sure you do.” His face was covered, but his eyes burned with hate. “I knew you’d come.”
Alexander stepped back and put his hand on the hilt of his own sword. For a moment, he dared to feel the slightest hope—perhaps it was a trap, and Norah wasn’t hurt. “Where is she?”
“Let him enter,” the Shadow King’s voice called from inside her sanctuary.
The Destroyer’s eyes darkened through the slit of his wrap. He dropped the tip of his sword and took a reluctant step back.
Alexander’s breath quaked. This wasn’t a ploy of the Destroyer, and now he wished more than anything it had been. Norah had been hurt. Was she inside her chamber? Why wasn’t it her voice that called him?
Alexander pushed past him and pressed into the room, where the king stood at the foot of the bed. In its center, Norah lay as pale as the moon. Her cheeks lacked the color of her spirit—they lacked the color of life.
Fear gripped him. His heart dropped like a rock in his chest. He forgot about the king; he forgot about the Shadowlands. They didn’t matter anymore. If Norah was gone, nothing mattered anymore.
Alexander moved to the edge of the bed, his soul cold, desperation writhing within him. His hand trembled as he reached out and grazed the bottom of her cheek. He turned her face toward him. The faintest of breaths whispered across his palm, and it flooded him with emotion.
She was alive.
He blinked back the tears welling in his eyes as he dropped down beside her. “Norah,” he whispered. But she didn’t answer. “I’m here.” He cupped his hand against her cheek, silently begging for her to open her eyes. But she only lay on the cusp of death underneath his touch. “Norah,” he whispered again through his teeth. His breath shook and his eyes brimmed. “Come back to me.” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
Her skin burned with the fire of fever, and her brow was damp; a cloth and basin rested on a small table beside the bed. He drew his hand back to her face and let his thumb graze her lips. A light salve covered them, keeping the skin from chapping. Her hair was clean and brushed, and a blanket lay over her. She was cared for. But it wasn’t enough.
He was suddenly aware of the king’s eyes on him. He had revealed himself—his heart—but he was too angry to care.
If Norah died…
The king’s gaze was still on him. Alexander straightened and stood, and his anger grew to a fury. An all-consuming fury. He’d kill this king—for everything he’d done, but especially for this. He’d kill him.
Now.
Alexander ripped his sword free. The Destroyer lunged forward, but with a blind rage, Alexander kicked him back against the door. Then he went for the Shadow King. The king was without a sword, but he blocked Alexander’s attack with the armor of his forearm. Alexander knocked him back against the wall and swept his sword to his neck, but in turn, Alexander felt the tip of the king’s dagger at his own. They both stood with their blades to each other’s throats.
“You were supposed to keep her safe!” Alexander seethed. “This is your kingdom. She’s in your care. This is your doing!”
In the darkness of the Shadow King’s eyes swirled emotion that Alexander couldn’t read. Sadness? Guilt? Shame? He should feel all those things. And now he’d feel death. But before Alexander killed him, he had to know. “What happened?” he demanded.
Still, the king didn’t answer.
Alexander bared his teeth, his rage growing. “What happened?” he demanded.
“Alexander,” came a faint whisper behind him. He jerked his head back to Norah, forgetting the king.
Her head moved weakly, but her eyes remained closed. She inhaled deeply, wincing.
Alexander released the king and was back to her side in an instant, taking her hand and pulling it to his cheek. “I’m here,” he said.
The Shadow King moved to her other side.
Her eyelids fluttered open, weakly. Then she saw Alexander. “You’re back,” she said with the faintest of breaths. Her face held only the whisper of a smile, but it lit the room.
He nodded. “I came as soon as I heard.”
She blinked slowly. “What happened?”
“You were attacked,” the Shadow King told her.
Attacked. Alexander’s rage returned, but Norah’s voice stopped him before he spoke.
“Is there water?” she asked.
The king’s eyes moved past Alexander, and Alexander turned to see a back table in the room, behind the Destroyer, where a pitcher and glass sat. The beast of a man still stood with his sword in hand, ready for a fight. Finally, he turned with a protesting rumble and poured the water. He eyed Alexander with dark contempt before reluctantly stepping to him and handing him the glass.
The king put an arm behind Norah and helped her sit up, sending a ripple of fire through Alexander. But he knelt beside her and held the water to her lips. She took a few gulps, coughing in between and wincing again in pain.
“Easy,” Alexander told her.
She took a few more sips, more careful this time. When she’d had her fill, the king laid her back against the pillows on the bed. Alexander held the glass back out to the Destroyer, who scowled at him murderously underneath his wrap. But he took the glass and set it back on the table.
“Who did this?” Alexander asked the king. He would kill them too.
The king was silent.
“Do you even have him?” he asked angrily. “The man responsible?”
“Of course we have him,” the king said defensively, finally speaking.
“Who is it?” he asked again.
“The brother of one of my previous wives.”
Previous wives? How does one have previous wives? His eyes blazed at the king.
“Avenging her honor, no doubt,” Norah said weakly. “Her family’s honor. They’ve been humiliated with the annulments.”
Annulments? The king had had other marriages? Alexander glared at him with an indicting fury. All of this was his fault—everything that had happened. He looked back to Norah. Her sympathy, her compassion, her understanding—they had always amazed him, even now, as she lay near death. But he couldn’t find compassion within himself for the attacker or this king.
“I want to speak to him,” she said. Her voice came at barely a whisper, yet it still managed to take them all aback.
“That’s not a wise idea,” the king said to her.
“He tried to kill you,” Alexander added to the argument. “What is there to say?”
Norah turned her head to the king. “I want to speak to him,” she said again.
“Your fever hasn’t even broken,” the king replied. “You need to rest and heal before you do anything.” As much as he hated it, Alexander nodded his agreement with him.
She swallowed, struggling with her words. “Promise me you’ll let me speak to him, that you won’t kill him.”
The Shadow King’s face remained hard and disapproving. “Rest,” he said, “and I give you my word I won’t kill him before you speak to him.”
Norah nodded faintly and leaned back, closing her eyes to sleep again.
Days fell away, and Norah finally found herself able to sit up without assistance. She didn’t remember the attack, and for once, she was appreciative. Her skin was healing, but an internal ache still lingered. She forewent the drink of herbs offered by the healer to relieve it. There was something between Alexander and the king, a new animosity, and she didn’t want the fog of pain medicines as she tried to understand what was happening.
Mikael sat with her often, not saying much, but his presence calmed her. He brought her books and anything else he could think of that might help her pass the time.
The cool air of morning hung around her as she sat in bed for yet another day. Vitalia brought a tray of breakfast as Mikael took what had become his regular place in the bedside chair.
“How is Salara-Mae?” she asked him.
He rocked his head back in slight surprise. “She’s been worried about you.”
Norah tried not to move as a chuckle escaped her.
“I think she’s secretly starting to like you,” he said.
“She likes me more than she likes the lord commander.”
He nodded. “That she does.”
“Why does she dislike him so much?” That was a silly question, perhaps. There were no redeeming qualities about the brute. Quite the opposite. But the commander was fiercely loyal to the king—had saved him, protected him—how could a mother not appreciate that?
“I don’t know. She always has. From the moment she saw him.”
A knock rattled the door and Alexander stepped inside. Mikael stiffened.
“Lord Justice,” she greeted. His presence in Kharav brought a thick tension, but she still couldn’t help her happiness each time she saw him.
“Queen Norah.” He didn’t acknowledge the king. “I came to see if you needed anything. Or if you wanted to write a letter. I’m sending word back to Mercia with news of your health.”
“Yes, I’d like to write a letter.” She moved with a start. “I completely forgot. What about the towns you went to investigate? Did you find anything? Who attacked them?”
Alexander shook his head. “We found nothing. Only the aftermath. Whoever it was, it’s like they had disappeared.”
His words drew Mikael’s interest. “Where was this?” the king asked.
Alexander eyed him as if loathing the thought of speaking words to him. “East of Bahoul.”
Mikael looked at Norah. “Not far from the town we saw destroyed. Same offenders, no doubt.”
Norah felt her stomach turn, remembering.
“You found nothing?” Mikael asked Alexander.
“Same as you, I believe,” he replied coolly, but there was a knife to it.
The king sat calmly, but his nostrils flared. “Did you really expect me to properly investigate an attack against the North as I launched my own?”
“What about now that you’re wed to Mercia’s queen?” Alexander’s voice held an icy air. “Do you care? Or is your protection of Mercia the same as your protection of her queen?”
