Page 176 of Shadow Queen
“Already too long.”
She pursed her lips. “Don’t send an army.”
“No army,” he assured her. An army was thousands of men. He wouldn’t send thousands.
Chapter fifty-three
Mikaelstood,leaninghisweight over the desk in his study. He gripped the edges until he could no longer feel his fingers. Spread in front of him were the letters from his scouts, warning him Cyrus was moving his forces across Japheth. Gregor had found his new ally, and war was on the horizon.
His eyes were fixed forward, but unfocused. Sleep had escaped him through the night. He felt the darkness of madness taking him, closing in over his head. He could smell it as it filled his lungs, taste it in his throat as it drowned him. But he couldn’t stop it.
He was losing everything—his alliance, his power, his mind. It was only a matter of time before he lost his kingdom.
And he was losingher. Salara. It was his own doing. He felt himself pushing her away. He could hear it as he raged, but he couldn’t stop.
And then there was the Bear. Mikael knew he wouldn’t kill him. He wanted to, more than anything. Not because the Bear would bring his end, but because the justice held a piece of Salara’s heart—enough of it to pull her back to the North to save him. And now Mikael would know what he feared the most—she loved the Bear more.
Soren had said she wouldn’t go to the North. He believed that once, but not anymore. She’d have to still love him to stay, and he’d destroyed that love, he was certain. Perhaps it was best. She’d be safe in the North. With Gregor and Cyrus now more than just a threat, he didn’t want her in Kharav.
The door opened, and he turned to see Soren enter, alone. He swallowed. That was his answer, then. Slowly, he looked back at his desk.
“You were wrong, brother,” Soren said.
Mikael snapped his head back to him. Wrong? He couldn’t mean…
“She didn’t ride for the North.”
His chest seized. She had stayed? “Where is she?” His voice broke as he spoke.
“The hillside house. She just needed some time.”
The hillside house. So near, yet so far. He needed to see her. “Should I go to her?”
“I’ve only committed that I wouldn’t send the army.”
Mikael let out a breath of relief. Would she see him, though?
“You can get her to come back,” Soren told him, as if reading his mind, “but you can’t be as you were—thinking crazed things, spewing madness.”
“I know. The seer—”
“I’m going to kill that fucking seer. Go to her. She loves you.”
He nodded.
Soren bobbed his head toward the door. “Go,” he pressed angrily.
Mikael reached out, clasped the nape of Soren’s neck, and brought their foreheads together. He didn’t deserve this man.
Then he turned and stepped into the sunlit hall to go get his salara.
The afternoon sun waned, fading under gray skies of rain before it dipped below the horizon. Norah looked out the windows over the mountains. She expected Soren to return soon with a full legion, completely ignoring her insistence for no army. It was unfortunate, as they wouldn’t all fit in the house and they’d be unable to make a camp to keep them from the rain. Perhaps she should just go back. It would be selfish to keep them all here, just so she could be away from the castle—away from Mikael and his delusions. She had her sanctuary, and if she was honest with herself, it was a bit dramatic that she’d insisted on being completely away.
She’d go back.
Norah pulled her cloak from the hook on the wall and stepped toward the door. She should be able to make it back before nightfall, although she’d have to travel in the rain. She didn’t mind. Water never bothered her. She had to find Cohen; he wouldn’t be far. He’d spent his time constantly scouting the area around the house. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Cohen looking back at her.
Her breath caught as Mikael’s dark eyes stared into hers. He stood, wet, in front of her. She glanced around him; he was alone. Not even Soren had come with him. Her heart beat heavier in her chest. Had he come to drag her back himself? Was he still angry?
