Page 141 of Shadow Queen
“And then you’ll be overthrown,” he said. “Whether by the Kharavian nobles or the North, you won’t keep the throne without a child.”
“Soren won’t let that happen!”
“Soren is one man! And he’ll die too. He won’t tell me, but I know he’s seen his death. I know that’s what the seer showed him.”
Her lip trembled. She knew what the seer had shown Soren, and it wasn’t his own death. It was hers, by his hand. That’s why he hadn’t told Mikael, and she wouldn’t tell him either.
Norah shook her head. “I can’t…” She felt sick, and she ripped her arm free from him and took another step back. “I’ll go to war first.” Her emotion came thicker now; a deep hurt spiked her heart. “And that you would even think…” She couldn’t finish through her tears.
“Salara—”
“No,” she said as she took another step back. Her hurt turned to anger. “How can you even ask that of me? To whore myself?”
He stopped, and pain snaked across his brow. “That’s not… Salara, I didn’t mean…” He reached out and pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me. I should have never said it. I should have never thought it.” He squeezed her tightly. “I’m sorry.”
Sun poured through the windowed halls giving the impression of warmth, deceivingly so. Outside, the air was frigid. Norah walked deep in thought. When her emotion had subsided, her anger toward Mikael faded. She had spoken harshly to him. When he had suggested… she’d felt so betrayed. But his words weren’t an act of betrayal; they came out of desperation—desperation for her.
They needed a child. She wanted a child. But a child would require a pregnancy and a pregnancy would require… another. An overwhelming shame came with the thought—the shame of sharing something so private, the shame of defeat. And there was no one she trusted with that shame. Even if she could, who could be trusted with a secret that could break a kingdom?
Norah turned the corner and almost collided with another, breaking her abruptly from her thoughts.
Soren reached out and caught her. “Salara.”
“Lord Commander,” she said, shaken. He always seemed to catch her off guard at the worst times.
“Where’s the boy?” he asked.
She shook her head, trying to get her wits about her. “What?”
“Where is the boy?”
“Um, Adrian? I don’t know,” she said, looking around. “The field, or the stables, maybe?”
“He’s not on the field. Come on.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the stables.
Norah let out a breath of confusion. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she followed. She almost had to run to keep up. “What’s going on?”
“How quickly can you manage a wedding?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“How quickly can you manage a wedding?” he asked again.
She rolled her eyes. “When I ask you for more, you can’t use the same words.” She grabbed him, pulling him to a stop. “Soren! What wedding?”
“Where is the boy?”
She pursed her lips in frustration. “Stop answering a question with a question—” She stopped. Her eyes widened. “Did you get Sevina’s father’s blessing? Is Adrian to marry her?”
The lord commander pushed out a breath. He wasn’t wearing his wrap, and his annoyance was written all over his face. “What other wedding would I be referring to?”
Norah drew her brows together. “You’re a terrible communicator.”
His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared.
“There!” she pointed to the end of the stable. “There he is.”
“Boy!” the commander thundered.
