Page 18 of Shadow Queen
Hours passed, and a stitch grew deep in her stomach. She pressed her hand against the scar to allay the cramp. Finally, she could go no longer. They reached a small stream, and Norah slowed her mare to a halt. She slid to the ground. It felt good to stand again.
“We’ll take a moment here,” the commander called to the men as he reined his destrier nearer to her and dismounted, probably wary of another escape attempt. He pulled a skin of water from his saddlebag and held it out for her.
Norah eyed it. She would rather drink from the stream, even if it was a muddy stream, but she took it. She was thirsty, and as much as she hated to admit, it was good. She drank her fill and handed it back to him, and he pulled down his wrap and took a drink as well.
“You were wrong, you know,” she told him. “He did see me. The seer.”
The commander stilled. His face darkened as he put the stop back on the waterskin. “What did he show you?”
“Everything.”
A silence hung between them, and Norah could feel the rage under his calm—a rising, fearful rage. Whatever the seer had shown him—whatever he was hiding—he was afraid of it.
He looked over his shoulder at the men and then back at her. “What did he show you?” he asked again. There was a threat in his tone.
She moved to step past him, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her close with a tightness that hurt.
“Let me go!”
“What did he show you?” he hissed.
“What are you so afraid of?” she cut back.
His shoulders relaxed, and he released her arm. She could see it in his eyes—his relief. He knew she didn’t know, and she cursed herself for speaking too quickly.
Norah couldn’t help the frustration, the hopelessness that suddenly washed over her. She found a large rock to sit on and gazed blankly out at the uneven terrain. She came all this way, and for what? She’d married the Shadow King, and for what? The visions still held. While there was peace, it could break at any moment. She held the title of salara, but she could do nothing.
The commander looked at the sky. “Winter’s returning, and a storm’s coming. We need to go.”
Let it come. She didn’t care anymore. The hopelessness was overwhelming.
“North Queen,” he called to her again.
She sat, not letting him push her to leave. “Why do you still call me that?”
“Are you not the North Queen?”
The hopelessness gave way to anger, and something snapped inside. “Am I not your salara?” she knifed back.
A rumble came from his chest. “Of course,Salara,” he corrected himself, his voice thick with agitation.
She stood and faced him, all care gone, all caution gone. “That’s what you’ll call me from now on.”
He snorted. “Surely you don’t seek to quarrel now.”
“What quarrel should I have withmycommander?” she snapped. “You’remine!” Norah stepped forward, drawing close enough to touch him. A shaking fury rippled through her. “I’m salara! And Salar has committed to me everything of Kharav. Everything andeveryone. He said you’re a loyal man. Does he lie? Because all I’ve seen is your opposition to his promise at every turn. Youandyour men.” She shot a daggered glance at Artem.
Black pools eddied in his eyes, but she refused to let them drown her. She returned his gaze with a dark intensity of her own. She had nothing more to lose.
“I am loyal to my salara,” he said slowly, “as are the rest of my men.”
Norah didn’t believe him. She snapped out her hand, snatching the dagger from his belt and whipping the cold steel to his neck.
He didn’t move.
Artem and his two soldiers behind him drew their swords. “Release him,” Artem demanded.
Her Crest guard Bhastian stood unmoving, his eyes on the commander. He looked at Artem and then drew his sword slowly. That hurt her. She had started to think he was one of the few she could trust.
