Page 49 of Shadow Queen
“I lean the same,” James said.
Edward pursed his lips. “Send word to Aleon, then. Phillip must know the queen is still there, and to hold. We wait—for the Shadow King to be drawn from his shadows.”
Alexander’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword again.
His feet fell heavy through the hall as he made his way to his chamber. Alexander’s mind was chaos, warring with his heart. The comfort of home should come as consolation, but it didn’t. He found himself wishing he were back in the Shadowlands, with Norah. He would follow her anywhere, even into the fires of hell.
Jude came quickly as Alexander stepped into the chamber. “My lord.” He bowed. “It’s good to have you home.”
“Good to see you, Jude.” He greeted his servant with a friendly nod. Jude had worked for him for well over twenty years, and Alexander was fond of him. “I hope you’ve been well.”
“I have, my lord.”
“How’s my brother?”
Jude raised his brows. “Asks the council about you incessantly, but he’s well.”
Alexander couldn’t help a smile. “Send for him”—he held up his fingers—“actually, let me wash first.”
“Of course, my lord.” Jude heated water for the tub in the side bath chamber as Alexander sat in a chair and pushed off his boots by the heel.
He stood and pulled off his travel-worn clothes and then stepped wearily to the tub and into the bath.
Suddenly, Jude stepped back in alarm.
Alexander had almost forgotten—his back. It was a few weeks healed now, the pain gone, but no doubt still evidenced on his skin. “Not a word,” he said as he sank into the steaming water. His servant nodded obediently and left him to wash.
Alexander bathed quickly. He wanted to see how Adrian fared. His body ached, but he’d have to muster the strength to spar as well. His brother loved showing him his progress with the sword. He had become quite good, rivaling even Alexander. Any day now he might overtake him. That would be a proud day.
He stepped from the bath, drying quickly, and pulled on the clean breeches Jude had laid out for him. The water seemed to have returned some of his energy. He stretched his arms out, enjoying the prickle across his skin from the chilled air. Then he pulled the clean linen shirt from the hook on the wall and stepped out of the bath chamber and back into his room to the vanity.
“Jude, I—”
“Gods’ mercy!” Catherine’s voice rang out.
He stopped, and his chest tightened. She’d seen his back. He turned to face her. Her lip trembled in horror.
Alexander glanced at Jude in the corner of the room, who shook his head fervently that he hadn’t betrayed him. “You may go,” he told him, and Jude slipped out of the room.
“You’ve been tortured,” Catherine breathed.
It wasn’t entirely different from how he expected she might react. “I wasn’t tortured. I was punished. By the king.”
“For what cause?” she demanded.
“I’d prefer not to discuss it.” But he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.
“And what makes him think he has the right to punish the lord justice of Mercia in such a way?”
“He’s the king of Mercia,” he snapped. As much as he hated to say it, it was true. He took a breath, drawing back his patience. It was out of concern she was reacting in this way, he told himself.
“You’ll tell me what happened,” she pressed.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’ll tell me, or I’ll convene the council to address the matter of your torture.”
His nostrils flared. He didn’t think she would take it that far. And the council was already walking a line he wasn’t comfortable with. “I said I was punished. Not tortured.”
