Page 179 of North Queen
Mikael’s lips thinned, then he gave a reluctant nod. “Then you can see him in the courtyard, before he’s executed.”
He would force her hand. She glanced at Alexander, but there was still no objection in his face.
The knot in Norah’s stomach grew. She needed to see her attacker, look into his eyes, hear his defense if he bothered to give one. She wasn’t sure if she could execute him, but if she didn’t, Mikael would. Would he think her weak? What about the people of Kharav?
And what would she think of herself?
Bhastian pushed Norah in a wheeled chair outside to the courtyard. Vitalia walked beside her, followed by the rest of Norah’s guard. Mikael required more of them now—an army everywhere she went. They were suffocating, but this wasn’t the time to complain about her guard. Things would return to normal eventually.
The sun sat low, close to the horizon, spilling colors of blood across the sky. Fitting. A crowd had gathered ahead in the courtyard, and it unsettled her stomach. “Stop here,” she said.
Bhastian brought the chair to a halt. “Is everything all right?”
“Help me up,” she said to Vitalia. “I want to walk the rest of the way.”
“Salara,” her maid protested. “You’re still healing.”
“I said help me up.”
Her maid sighed disapprovingly but stepped to help her as she was bid.
“Let me,” Bhastian said, coming forward and gently scooping his hands under her arms to help her stand. She didn’t want his help. He was loyal to the commander, was someone the brute trusted, which meant she couldn’t trusthim. But she did need the help.
Norah winced in pain, forcing herself to inhale and exhale until it subsided to an ache.
“Salara,” he said as he stepped around the chair to her side, trying to encourage her to abandon her effort.
“Just give me your arm,” she panted.
Bhastian looked around, clearly unhappy with her decision, but he held out his arm for support. She looped her hand through it, steadying herself.
Carefully, they continued forward, arms locked, unhurried.
The crowd parted as they drew near. She spotted Alexander. His face was full of disapproval. He started forward to meet her, but she shook her head to stop him. Mikael shot her an objecting look as well, but he said nothing. Out of anyone, he knew the importance of the perception of strength with power.
Her attacker was on his knees, his arms bound behind him. What she didn’t expect to see were others with him—a woman, a boy, and an older couple. The younger woman wept. Norah looked at her closer. She knew this woman.
It was one of Mikael’s previous wives.
Norah had seen her at the celebration when she first arrived in Kharav, only Norah hadn’t known who she was then. She suspected the older man and woman to be their parents, and the boy a younger brother perhaps. They all knelt, bound, with their heads down. Why were they here?
Norah looked at Mikael in dismay. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded.
He said nothing, but his eyes were dark, his intentions written on every crease of his face. He was going to execute themall. A wave of horror flooded her.
“North Queen,” her attacker called out to her. “I beg you. Please spare my family! Myral. My mother, my father, my brother. They had no part in my doing. I acted alone. Please!”
Norah found herself clutching on to Bhastian as she gaped at them.Myral. Yes. That was the woman’s name.
“North Queen,” Myral cried. “I’ve spoken harsh words against you. But my parents and younger brother are innocent.” The woman swallowed back a sob. “Please, spare them!”
Norah could only stare at the woman. The knot in her throat choked her voice. Norah had required the annulments. She was the outsider who’d come and turned the wives away from a life they had known, a life of status and privilege. How could she fault this woman just for speaking against her?
“Please, North Queen,” her attacker begged, and she turned her eyes back to him.
Mikael stepped forward, seeming to grow even larger as he readied to give his judgment. Her heart hammered in her chest. He was going to kill them.
She let go of Bhastian’s arm and willed herself to stand on her own. “I’m not the North Queen,” she called out. “I am Salara.”
