Page 102 of War Queen
“Did you put him up to this?” Soren asked after he’d gone, pulling her attention.
“Up to what?”
“Sending me to Aleon?”
“No, of course not.” She didn’t entirely trust that Soren wouldn’t still try to kill Phillip. While it did seem like something she would do—creating opportunity for a budding relationship—there was no budding relationship. Soren learning that Phillip was the man in his vision had severely affected him, hurt him even, and he was still angry. She knew he felt like Phillip had taken something from him. Now she worried he might take something from Phillip. Like his life.
“You have to talk to him,” he pressed. “I can’t leave Kharav. I have matters to tend here. I have things to look after.”
“You mean me?”
He stilled.
“Soren, you’ve done a fine job looking after me ever since… well, ever since I met you, but you’re lord commander. You have to get back to… lord commanding. War is coming. I don’t want you to have to go to Aleon—I know what it means for you. But Mikael’s right, we need you to go. I’ll send word for Caspian to meet you there, and after you confer with him and Phillip, you’ll decide our collective approach.”
The muscle along his temple tightened. “You assume the Aleon king will follow my plan.”
“I assume he’ll appreciate the counsel of a renowned commander and will want a unified effort.” As they all did.
“I can determine that from here.”
“I also want you to determine how to better fortify Aleon. That you can’t do from here.”
“That’s the responsibility of his own commander,” he argued.
“Soren. You know your value. This is a completely appropriate duty.”
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll go. Just don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
She narrowed her eyes. “When have I ever done anything stupid?”
Aleon was as Soren remembered—glorious, beautiful, welcoming.
Complete shit.
He wrestled with his mind the whole journey from Kharav. Memories of what the seer had shown him haunted his thoughts. Shame still hung around him, for the nameless face he’d thought about so often. But it was nameless no more, and he had to see things for what they were. This king had become an informal ally of the North and Kharav, that was true.
But he was not a friend.
In the Great War, the Aleon king had given the North King the forces to take Bahoul—the battle in which Kharav had lost its mountain stronghold and Soren had lost his family. And even if this king hadn’t wielded the sword himself, he was still complicit, still to blame. He would continue to grow his empire, remaining an ally only so long as his and Salara’s interests aligned. He couldn’t be trusted, even if hehadrecently come to Mikael’s aid when Rael moved against him.
Soren had made good time in traveling alone to Aleon’s capital city of Valour, arriving even before the Northmen. He wanted to finish and return to Kharav as soon as possible. Return to…looking afterSalara. That was what she had called it, but he wasn’t only looking after her. Rael would move against Kharav soon, and he was needed at home. The faster he could finish with this Aleon king, the faster he could get back. It wasn’t necessary to have traveled all this way. He knew what needed to be done; Norah could have sent a letter, giving the Aleon king instruction. He only needed to do as he was told. Soren ran his eyes over the brilliance of the mainway, its opulent splendor. This kingdom was built on pride. He hoped that pride wouldn’t stand in his way.
People lined the street with his arrival, as they had done when he had come before with Salara. Only this time, they threw no flowers. Should he be offended? He almost chuckled. But they welcomed him with smiling faces. Like they knew him. Now that wastrulyoffensive.
As he reached the citadel, the Aleon king was waiting, as he had been before. Was there nothing else for him to do? Did he just stare out his window waiting for visitors to arrive?
He was as Soren remembered him—bronze hair, messy, but in a perfect kind of way. He wore a stupid smile that made Soren want to gut him. But Soren was prepared this time. At least, he had thought he was prepared, but seeing Phillip struck something within, and a flash of anger swept through him. He pushed it down—he was here with a purpose, and he wouldn’t let himself be distracted.
“Lord Commander,” the king greeted as Soren slid down from his destrier. “I trust you journeyed well.”
Journeyed unnecessarily. Diplomacy, Soren reminded himself. “Aleon King,” he replied.
The king’s smile widened, flashing a row of perfect teeth. “You’re welcome to call me by my name. Phillip.”
Soren wouldnotbe calling him by his name, and if this king was looking for reciprocation, he wouldn’t get it. “Have the Northmen arrived?” Of course they hadn’t.
“Not yet. But I received a message yesterday. They’re yet another day or two out.”
