Page 175 of North Queen
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
Thethunderofgallopinghorses 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.
