Page 93 of North Queen
He urged his horse forward, and she followed. They parted from the army and rode up a hill to a wooded area. The bitter wind brought tears to her eyes and froze them on her cheeks. She urged her horse to keep up with the king’s destrier as they rode through the trees. Bramble crept out onto the trail, but she could tell it once had been a well-worn path. An uneasiness sat in her stomach as she wondered where he was taking her. She didn’t think she could handle the sight of another destroyed city.
She watched him as they rode. He wore his armor but not his helm. Without it, he seemed less of a monster. The events of the night prior confused her. Apparently, she was a responsibility of his, but why had he tried to comfort her? Why did he care? She didn’t understand, but she couldn’t mistake his brief kindness for the safety of trusting him. He wanted the North. He wanted her dead.
Her mind turned to Mercia. She envied who she’d been a week ago, before she knew the horrors of this war, before she knew her helplessness. The lingering winter was the least of her concerns now. She knew Alexander would bring the whole of the Mercian army for her, and if they were decimated, there would be nothing left to protect Mercia. The Shadow King would destroy them all. She needed to escape and get her army back to Mercia to protect her people.
They came to the edge of the wood, and rolling hills opened in front of them. She saw an abandoned country manor in the distance and sighed in relief. There were no torches or impaled heads—that was a good sign.
The king reined up for a moment. He looked down at the house and then scouted the tree line. She watched him, noticing something was off. He was pale. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cold. She opened her mouth to say something, but the mountains in the far distance to the north caught her eye.Bahoul. Her pulse quickened. Alone with the king, she felt her freedom close.
The king scanned the land with a careful eye. Seemingly satisfied that there was no immediate threat, he spurred his destrier forward, and she followed behind. As they got closer, she looked over the manor. It was close to collapsing.
The king slowed his horse, taking in the scene around him. “I haven’t been here for a long time,” he said.
“What is this place?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, and she pursed her lips in frustration.
He looked around a little longer. “His name is Soren,” he said finally.
Norah’s brows drew together. “Who?”
“My lord commander. Mybrute, as you say. You asked where he came from. This was his family’s home. My father charged him with this land. It stretches over the mountains to the north.”
“To Bahoul? The mountains that Mercia holds?”
“The mountains you stole from us,” he said with an edge of anger in his voice.
“After you attacked us,” she threw back defensively.
“Because you’ll take my throne.”
“I don’t want your throne!”
He stilled, and quieted.
Norah looked back over the failing manor. A calm returned. “What happened to them—his family?” she asked.
“Murdered. By the North.” His words were like steel, and they cut her.
She swallowed the sickness in her mouth. She couldn’t bring herself to ask how, but she didn’t have to.
He took an unusually strained breath and continued. “We had set a camp here for our wounded. When my father’s armies retreated back to Kharav, the North followed but not just to the border. They flanked them all the way back to the mountains and beyond, destroying villages, farms… farmers.”
Norah bit her chapped lips, watching him.
He continued. “We were here, and they came upon us. They murdered everyone: Soren’s mother, his brother, his sister. Everyone.”
Norah forced herself to breathe.
“We fought,” the king said, “but it wasn’t enough. My father fell. I was injured. Severely.” His eyes glazed as he stared at the manor. He straightened, and his voice came only slightly stronger. “Soren’s father had been captain of the Crest, a great warrior, before he became lord of Bahoul. He told Soren to get me back to Kharav, to protect me. And then he took his sword and ran to hold off the Northmen while we fled. That’s the last we saw of him.”
Norah couldn’t speak. She’d only heard of the triumphs of the Great War, not the tragedies.
“We traveled for days, until we came to Aviron, a small kingdom along the borderlands. We thought they would help us, but they knew who I was the moment they saw me. They captured me, they…” His voice trailed off. “Soren found a way to free us, and we fled again. We finally reached the canyons and were able to make it to Kharav. He was going to return to his home, but I told him, ‘There’s nothing left for you anymore. We’re brothers now, and you’ll stay with me.’”
Norah looked back over the farm in horror, swallowing the emotion in her throat. “That’s why he hates me so much,” she said softly.
The Shadow King gave a weak snort. “And you killed his horse,” he added.
