Page 34 of Shadow Queen
His Northman launched another assault, driving him back a few paces. Alexander’s body begged for rest, but his mind begged for distraction. He charged forward and locked his grip on the soldier, giving his arms a reprieve from the swing of the sword. Then he shoved the soldier back.
Had she come to have feelings for this man? He’d watched how she looked at the Shadow King—not with contempt or disdain, but he hadn’t taken it for love. However, one action lingered on his mind—the way she took the king’s arm. Most of the time it was the proper way, her arm scooped under his with her hand resting on his forearm. But then, sometimes, she’d curl around and clasp his upper arm, as if wanting to hold him close to her—the way she used to hold Alexander’s. Before he’d lost her.
The Mercian soldier stopped and straightened, halting their bout, and Alexander followed his gaze to see the Destroyer approaching with his own warriors. The Shadow commander came in his usual fashion—darkness and depravity personified. Alexander hated that he couldn’t see his face.
“Enjoying our amenities, Bear?” the Destroyer rumbled as he approached.
Alexander didn’t answer. The Shadowmen invested in death; of course their practice stations were superior to those of the North.
“A friendly spar?” the Shadow commander asked, pulling his sword.
Alexander knew the invitation was anything but friendly, but he had to fight the desire to accept it with every fiber of his being. His blood burned with the want to sink his sword into the Destroyer, to cut limb and life from him. Yet it wasn’t the king’s warning that made him pause. He cared nothing about the king’s orders, or his threats. But Norah needed more from him. Expected more. He was already failing her.
He flicked his gaze over his men. “We’re done here,” he said, giving them a slight nod to leave the field. “To your duties.” His men pulled up and stowed their weapons and turned to leave.
“Well, isn’t that just like the North,” the Shadow commander growled out. “Avoiding the fight. And you wonder why your men are so poor at it.”
Alexander paused. The Destroyer was goading him, he knew, and he sent back a daggered insult of his own. “Were we so poor at it during the Battle of Bahoul? When we took the mountains from you?”
If a shadow could grow darker…
“You had Aleon,” the commander snarled. “Now you’re alone. And do you forget, Little Bear, it was your father who helped the North King take Bahoul. You think you’re half the warrior he was? You think you’re worthy to wear his armor?”
Alexander’s chest quaked under the taunt that hit at his core. But he couldn’t let the Destroyer see. “Yet you still fear me,” he cut back. “So obsessed you are with trying to kill me.”
The Shadowman gave a dark chuckle. “Fear? It’syouwho runs away at a mere suggestion of a spar. Does your queen know her commander is a coward? Does she really believe you can protect her?”
His blood heated to near boiling. Alexander cast aside the protest of his weary muscles and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. A spar, then, to show this Shadow beast his place.
The commander’s eyes smiled as he read Alexander’s acceptance, and he advanced, delivering a few basic blows.
They were easy enough for Alexander to deflect, but there was a force behind them, and he knew the commander was playing with him, testing. Their men backed up to give them more space.
The Destroyer launched another attack, and Alexander countered. Their swords came together with a force that shook Alexander up his arms and to his shoulders. While the Shadow commander stood only half a head taller than him, he carried a muscled frame almost twice his size. Alexander wasn’t a small man, but damn it if he didn’t feel small in the wake of this giant. Their blades cross-caught as they each pitted their weight forward, but Alexander was no match in strength, and the commander pressed him backward. Their eyes locked, their faces close.
The commander chuckled.
“Show your face, coward,” Alexander spat.
“What will my face show you that my sword won’t?”
Alexander shoved him back and away. They circled one another, each looking for an opportunity to strike. Alexander’s body moved numbly from exhaustion, but anger fueled him and kept him on his feet.
The Destroyer lunged forward, and their weapons came together in a deafening clang. They locked again, and he drove Alexander back all the way to the fence along the weapons’ hold. The Shadowman used his weight as he crushed Alexander against the railing.
“But I don’t think it’s my face that bothers you,” the commander sneered quietly so that only Alexander could hear. “I think it’s your queen in Salar’s bed.”
The Destroyer’s eyes smiled. Rage rippled through Alexander, searing the need for blood inside his heart and lighting a burn across his skin. He ripped his dagger from his belt and plunged it into the side of the Shadow commander. But his range was limited, and it wasn’t a fatal strike. Regrettably.
The Destroyer stumbled backward, his eyes dropping to his side as he held his hand to the wound that now streamed blood over his hip and down his thigh. The morning came alive with the sound of swords pulled from scabbards. The Shadow commander’s eyes blazed, and a snarl ripped from his throat as he charged Alexander again.
And hell broke loose onto the field.
The days came easier with Mikael’s love, and Norah found herself loving in return. She could be happy here, she knew, and she started to dream about it. But with that dream came the darkness of fear, and of worry. The vision of Mikael’s death haunted her. The search for the truth—and to change fate—had become even more important to her, and not just for Alexander’s sake, but for her own and for Mikael’s.
She walked solemnly through the main hall, but her thoughts were interrupted by a sight out the window—two soldiers helping the lord commander up from the field, shouldering his weight between them. Blood poured from a gash in his side.
Norah ran outside to meet them. “What happened?”
