Page 92 of North Queen
The king shook his head. “That was a walled city with armored, fighting men. It would have taken an army to destroy it.”
“Well, it’s as though they’ve disappeared,” she told him.
“The same is said of us. Find them. And what of the drifters we caught last night?” They’d had some spoils. Obviously, they looted the city after it had been destroyed. “Find out if they saw anything.”
Katya shook her head. “They’re all dead, Salar.”
Mikael’s brow furrowed. His men had brought four of them back to the camp alive. “What?”
She motioned to the bodies nearby. “It appears one killed the others, then himself.”
“Why?”
She shook her head again. “Maybe they feared the death you might choose for them. Or maybe they knew something they didn’t want us to find out.”
“Now what could that be?” Mikael asked under his breath. He’d have to think on it later.
“Are you well, Salar?” the captain asked, a slight concern across her brow.
“I’m well enough,” he said. “Have two horses readied.”
“What should we do with the bodies?”
Mikael glanced back at the drifters. “Leave them for the birds.”
Katya gave a nod. “Yes, Salar.”
“North Queen.”
Norah woke to the king calling her, and she turned to see him standing by the front flap of the tent. She sat up, briefly confused, but then the memory of the night before came back to her. His cloak still lay over top of her, and she clutched it in her fists.
“I want to show you something. Get dressed. Come with me.” He ducked out, giving her privacy.
She was still in his shirt, but she spied the fresh clothing by the bedroll and rose quickly to pull it on, along with her jacket and boots. Her mind swirled with the events of the night before and the king’s strange kindness. Then she pushed it away. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but nothing had changed. She was still a prisoner, and her army was marching to wage a war she knew they couldn’t win.
Norah emerged from the tent. While she’d salvaged her jacket, she still shivered in the morning chill. She was surprised to see the king standing with two horses saddled.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, and she felt a flash of annoyance. Could no one answer a question?
He held out a cloak for her. Her irritation faded, but only slightly. She slipped the cloak around her shoulders, thankful for its warmth. Her horse pawed the frozen ground as she mounted, sensing its rider’s anxiousness.
Norah paused when she saw the bodies of the drifters. She knew they were dead, but she felt a pang of fear twist through her as she thought back to the night before.
Beside her, the king mounted his destrier.
“Are they the men who…” she couldn’t finish.
“No. Your attackers were Horsemen. These are some of the drifters from around the fire we saw on our way back from the village.”
Horsemen? Were they close to the Tribelands? That would put them well south of Mercia.
She looked back at the drifters. Their skin was a waxy blue, and the eyes of one man were still open. Norah swallowed back her nausea. There was a strange marking centered on one’s forehead. It was dark. Dried blood, perhaps. She pulled her gaze away and turned back to the king, who was waiting.
“Are we leaving the army again?” she asked. That couldn’t be good.
“We’ll catch up to them.”
