Page 166 of Shadow Queen
The king’s brows dipped as if the words had hurt him. “And after, when Aleon rises against us? You put your faith in the Bear?”
Soren looked at Norah with eyes of shackled storms. “I put my faith in Salara.”
Chapter fifty
TheairofAshanhung thick with apprehension. Aleon’s forces in Bahoul, so close to Kharav, made the Kharavian legions uneasy, even with the Canyonlands between them. Messages traveled quickly now, with Phillip so near, and Norah had already received a response to the letter she had sent eight days prior. She had written accepting his request to occupy Bahoul, provided Mercian and Kharavian armies could use it as a shared base. Of course, she knew Mikael wouldn’t station Kharavian forces there, wary of an easy escalation to war.
She had asked Phillip to lend his men in return, to help identify Mercia’s enemies and stop them. And she had asked if Aleon still truly considered themselves friends of Mercia. It was a painful question to ask, after refusing Phillip’s hand for marriage in favor of an ally of his enemy.
Norah held his response in her hand, unopened. She brushed her fingertips over the seal, her heart racing at what the words inside might say. She wondered if she should wait for Mikael before she read it. He hadn’t yet returned from the Canyonlands, where he’d gone to ensure the Uru and their border forces were prepared. He could have sent Soren—it was the commander’s job after all—but he’d gone himself. Alone. He was upset with them. Both of them. But they didn’t have a choice. He just needed some time to calm, and he’d see things more clearly, she was sure. He’d see.
She broke the seal and opened the letter.
Dearest Norah.
Phillip’s words had a personal feel. Too personal.
I found no sleep after I sent my last letter, unsure of how you’d respond, or if you’d respond at all. How different these circumstances are from what was planned so long ago. The hand of fate is cruel, isn’t it? Twisting and surprising even the most assured of men. That was my lesson. I was too proud, too confident, and the gods sought to humble me.
And they have.
When I received your reply, I knew it was a sign of their returned favor.
In response to your first question, of course Aleon still looks to Mercia with deep affection and friendship. Were our fathers and grandfathers not bonded in the blood of battle? Were they not fused together in the kiln fires of war? These ties aren’t easily broken. And your acceptance of my request to remain in Bahoul shows me these intentions still remain.
Your request for my help in protecting Mercia shouldn’t even be a question. As I write these words, I’ve already ordered ten thousand men to flush out this unknown enemy of both Mercia and Aleon.
Norah paused, forcing herself to breathe. He was sending men—ten thousand of them. Why would he be so generous? She turned her eyes back to the words.
I’ve thought many times on the circumstance by which we’ll meet again. I look forward to seeing you, Norah. We have much to discuss.
Most sincerely, I am,
Phillip
Norah refolded the letter with shaking hands. It felt as though he had whispered the words into her ear, like he knew her. Catherine had told her they’d met several times before she’d disappeared. Perhaps they’d been friends. But things had changed now. Why and when did he expect to see her again? It sounded soon. Why did it sound so soon?
She pulled a small wooden letter box from her vanity to place it inside, but when she opened the lid, she stopped. A small handheld portraiture sat between the stack of folded parchments, and she pulled it out. It was the small portraiture of Phillip that had been sent to Mercia, with the talks of marriage that felt so long ago. She looked at his face and his tousled hair of bronze, his smiling lips and kind eyes. He looked the way his letter sounded.
A knock on her door made her jump, and she turned to see Soren enter.
“Hammel’s hell,” she breathed, scowling at him. He never waited for a response to his knock. It merely served as a warning. Soren’s peculiar friendship came with the dearth of privacy, a product of his absent self-awareness, or perhaps his absence of care.
“They said a letter’s come,” he said impatiently.
She nodded, clutching it in her hand, her stomach knotting. Then she held it out for him.
He took it, reading the words quickly, and then folded it back. But his face didn’t reveal the anger she’d expected. “He sends the men you requested, and more than I expected,” he said with a nod. “Much more. Good.”
“Good?” she asked, raising a brow. “Did you not read the rest of the letter?”
His forehead creased. “What of it?” he asked.
She gave a small breath of disbelief laced with amusement at his lack of awareness. “He speaks as though our kingdoms are still united, Mercia and Aleon. Perhaps as thoughwe’llstill be united.”
“Good.” He nodded.
“Wait, no, it’s not good,” she argued.
