Page 155 of North Queen
“You can’t claim sanctuary from me in the room that I gave you out of my goodwill!”
That was exactly what she intended to do.
“Come out!”
She stared at the door, not daring to move.
The hall grew silent.
She waited.
Had he gone? It remained silent.
Her breaths calmed as the moments passed, but her body still shook. He could have forced her out. Why hadn’t he? She turned slowly to the vanity. Her hands trembled as she brushed back her hair from her face. What was she going to do now?
Mikael showed no intent of dissolving his other marriages. Mercia wouldn’t recognize a marriage where she wasn’t the only wife, and neither would she. What was worse, she’d already given herself to him. She’d naively thought she meant something to him. Tears threatened, but she clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t let him reduce her to this.
Chapter forty-five
Mikaelsatatthetable and took a long drink of wine. It had been two days since the wedding, and there was only one thing on his mind, one thing that tormented him. He looked at Salara’s empty chair.
“I thought she might come this evening,” he confessed. He shifted his eyes to Soren, who stabbed a chunk of meat with his knife and put it in his mouth.
Soren snorted.
Mikael rested his elbows on the edge of the table and ran his fingers over the scabbed stitching along his brow. “How long do you think she’ll stay angry?”
Soren shrugged as he chewed his food. “As long as you have wives.” He chuckled as he took a drink from his blood bowl. “Let her.”
Mikael’s anger stirred. Soren was of little help in these matters. “She said she refuses to acknowledge our marriage.”
Soren snorted again. “Did she not see the thousands there to witness it?”
His irritation grew. He wasn’t in the mood for Soren’s sarcasm. “If she denies me, so will the North, marriage or no.”
His commander gave a wry smile. “What’s really lost, though? You still hold the queen within your walls. Better now—you have the Bear.”
“I don’t want the Bear!” Mikael snapped as he slammed his fist down onto the table, rattling the plates.
Soren’s face sobered.
Mikael’s words surprised even himself. They weren’t entirely true. He did want the Bear. He wanted his head. He wanted to gaze into his dead eyes and spit into the face of fate. But there was something he wanted more now.
He sat back in his chair. He had to do something. “I could make her my only wife.”
Soren straightened, and the line along his jaw tightened. “Careful, brother,” he warned. “You’d offend three of the most powerful lords in your kingdom. That wouldn’t be without consequence.”
But how likely would they be to act?
Soren leaned toward him, his eyes dark and serious. “Don’t do something stupid.”
Mikael sighed. Soren was right. That would be stupid. “Have you heard anything from Salara?” he asked the servant who poured him more wine.
The servant bowed his head. “She said she’s not hungry this evening.”
Mikael swore. He knew that was a lie; that woman ate more than he did.
“She’ll need to eat eventually,” Soren rumbled.
