Page 143 of North Queen
Mikael pulled off the half-pinned swath of fabric and laid it over the side chair before donning his sleeveless tunic again. “As we expected,” he said, and he tucked his tunic back into his breeches. This news wasn’t worth his mother’s ire. He did wish for Soren to try harder to please her sometimes.
“The—”
Mikael cut him off. “Have you dealt with the old man?”
Soren stopped and gave a stiff nod.
“I don’t expect that to happen again,” he warned. “You’ve offended the queen.”
Soren snorted.
“You’ve offended me,” Mikael said angrily, and Soren stiffened.
His commander said nothing. He struggled personally with the North Queen, and Mikael sympathized, but he couldn’t tolerate this behavior toward his salara.
Mikael moved to leave, but Soren caught his arm. “Salar, the Northmen—the Bear will be with them.”
Mikael stopped. Now this he hadn’t expected. His chest tightened. “You’ve seen him?”
Soren shook his head. “No, but I know he’s here.”
He let out a long breath with a clenched jaw. Having the Bear in Kharav would be problematic. “Where?”
“They’re unloading their wagons and settling into the soldiers’ quarters now. Then they go to present themselves to the queen in the throne room.”
Mikael slammed his fist on the desk, spilling a bottle of ink.
“I’ll take the Crest and head them off,” Soren told him. “I’ll bring him to you.”
“No,” Mikael said stiffly.
His commander let out an angry breath. “His charge was to return to the North. The agreement’s been broken. Let me take him.”
“Does she know he’s here?” Mikael asked.
“The North Queen?” Soren shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s not revealed himself.”
“But you’re sure he’s come? Because that would be very foolish of him.”
Soren’s eyes blazed. “I’m certain.”
Mikael pulsed with the want for blood. “Then let’s go to the throne room.”
His sword slid smoothly out of its scabbard as he checked it. He might need it. Alexander had found it easier than expected to slip into the Shadowlands hidden among the Northmen. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised. Few knew what he looked like out of his signature armor. That worked in his favor. Alexander doubted he’d have made it a single step past the border had the enemy known who he was. They’d have had his head if they’d known he’d been the one to kill so many when they’d tried to retake the mountains of Bahoul the year prior. He’d left a scar on the face of their king, and he’d be the one to kill him.
Hewouldkill the Shadow King.
Maybe he’d been foolish to come, but he couldn’t not. Not when Norah was here, unprotected. Adrian had wanted to come, too, but it was too dangerous. With the Shadowmen, anyone Alexander loved would be a target. Especially his brother.
Alexander didn’t fear his own death in the Shadowlands, at least not until he fulfilled the vision, but he still came under the guise of a regular Mercian soldier. He didn’t want to be deterred or taken before he could see Norah and make sure she was all right.
He’d come as quickly as he could after returning the army to Mercia. He’d broken off from the travel company with a smaller group to go even faster. Caspian followed with more of Norah’s belongings and more men—things that would hopefully bring her comfort in the hold of their enemy until he could get her out.
“Are you ready?” Titus asked him.
Alexander smiled at the seasoned guard and pulled on his helm. “Lead the way.” And he followed Titus as a normal soldier would.
Norah was surprised to find the king and his brute in the throne room when she arrived. Mikael stood, armored—which seemed a little excessive. The commander’s face was covered. She’d gotten used to seeing him around the castle without his wrap and had almost forgotten how monstrous he looked with only his eyes showing. He was dressed for battle in usual Shadow form—nothing covering the markings on his chest and torso except his weapons’ strappings, and he wore only light armor over his breeches on his knees and the shins of his boots.
