Page 97 of North Queen
A scabbed wound on the inside of his arm, just above his wrist, caught her eye. It was where she’d cut him in their fight at the base of Bahoul. She brushed over it; it was healing quickly. His hand turned upward on its own, offering more of his forearm and startling her. She drew her gaze up, and it locked with his.
His eyes pierced her, and her heart rose in her throat. How long had he been watching her? The intensity of his stare was paralyzing.
“Is there water?” he asked.
She let out a breath of relief as his words broke his hold on her, and she could pull her eyes away. She nodded and retrieved a cup by the front of the tent. Kneeling beside him, she held it to his mouth, and he drank deeply. “Careful,” she told him.
He lay back when he was finished, looking up at her. “You’re still here,” he said weakly.
“I’m trying to remedy that,” she mumbled.
He stirred, trying to get up, but Norah put her hand firmly on his chest, pushing him back down. “No. You need to rest.”
The corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly, and she cursed herself. She didn’t care if he needed rest. She didn’t… she didn’t care.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It was the poison. It almost took you.”
His brow dipped as the memory came back to him. “We were at the manor.”
Norah nodded.
“And you brought me back?” he asked.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
He gave a small snort. “You could have run, escaped.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I said I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped. She was frustrated, at him, at herself.
He paused for a moment, then asked softly, “Tell me, why didn’t you let me die?”
“Because I don’t want you dead!” she replied angrily. “Why is everyone so intent on killing one another? All everyone talks about is war. What about peace?” She pushed out a breath as she shook her head, exasperated.
The king’s brows drew together in an expression that was hard for her to read.
Just then, the commander returned. He looked at the king, surprised to see him awake. Relief flashed across his face. Then he looked at Norah, and his eyes darkened. He spoke low and in the Shadow tongue. Mikael responded, and she could feel the commander’s anger. Whatever the king had told him displeased him. He cast Norah another dark look and then ducked back out of the tent.
“Get ready to travel,” Mikael told her. “We can’t stay here.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To friends.”
“What friends?”
He gave a labored chuckle. “You won’t like them.”
Her stomach felt heavy.
Outside, Norah found the commander readying his horse. It wasn’t as large as the previous destrier, but she watched him as he tightened the cinch of the saddle and then patted the beast’s shoulder. He paused when he heard her approach, but he didn’t turn to look at her. He was still without his head wrap, seeming even more like a man.
“I’m sure you’re relieved,” she said. “He’s going to be all right.”
He looped the horse’s reins back over its neck.
“Soren,” she started, “Mikael told me about your family. I didn’t realize—”
