Page 103 of War Queen
What was taking so long? Was Caspian fuckingwalking?
“I’ll show you inside,” the king said.
“I’ve seen inside.” Soren knew what he meant, but he didn’t want an escort.
“Then you’ll act surprised.”
Oh. Some wit, then. Soren narrowed his eyes.
Phillip’s face still held a smile, was still friendly, only a little more serious now. Firm. The king turned and strode up the stairs to the castle.
Who did this man think he was? Did he think Soren would just follow? Like he could be commanded? Soren stood for a moment in his surprise. Curse this Aleon king. Then he pushed a snarl between his teeth and followed him inside.
The king looked over his shoulder as they entered. “I trust the chamber you stayed in before was suitable. I’ve had it prepared again.”
It had been more than suitable—it had been excessive. It was the equivalent to the royal guest chambers in Kharav. “It’s unnecessary.” As were most things in Aleon. “Soldiers’ quarters are suitable enough.”
“I want your comfort.”
Soren almost laughed.Comfort.This wasn’t about comfort. It was a display of wealth and power.
They moved down a side hall to the guest chamber, where the king stopped in front of the door. “I’ll send someone to make sure you have everything you need.”
“I don’t need anything.” And he certainly didn’t need someone else bothering him.
The king’s expression changed, although not of annoyance, or frustration. His brow softened, and his lips parted slightly. “I am honored to host you again, Lord Commander.”
His words felt… genuine, and the fight inside Soren ebbed slightly. But only for a moment.
“Please, settle in and make yourself comfortable.” Then the king gave a friendly nod, left, and headed toward the main hall. Soren watched him go, his irritation returning. This man was infuriatingly pleasant.
Soren found his chamber to be as over-the-top as it had been before. An assortment of food sat on the table by the balcony door. Large windows let in the sight of the capital and all its beauty. He let himself fall back onto the bed. This was the bed he’d slept in during his last visit. It was ridiculous and overindulgent, so plush that he couldn’t feel the frame underneath.
And he could easily sleep for a week.
Back in Kharav, he had thought about how he might recreate it, but he pushed it from his mind and forced himself up. That would have to wait. He wasn’t here for his enjoyment. He looked around the room.Settle, Phillip had told him. There was nothing to settle. And he struck back out to explore things once again on his own.
Even with winter creeping in, the gardens of Kharav were beautiful. Their year-round green contrasted sharply against the light dusting of snow that now covered the earth. Norah sat on a bench between two topiaries, soaking in the false promise of warmth from the sun. She was grateful to not be in the North—she’d be bundled in layers and pausing by each fireplace in the castle every moment she got the chance.
And she was glad to be away from everything that reminded her of what she’d lost. Had it not been enough for fate to take her childhood, her memories, her parents? Everything she’d ever loved? Then to take Alexander from her too—a second time—was just cruel.
But just as much as she wanted to distance herself from the pain, she wanted to hang on—to not let go of any scrap of what she’d fought so hard to gain back. She wanted to cling to every piece of her shredded heart.
But Mikael didn’t understand. He didn’t know the pain of loss like this. He didn’t know the fight to endure. He’d have her put Alexander behind her. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
If there was something still remaining of him, she’d track it to the ends of the earth. If he was trying to speak to her, she’d listen.
She breathed in the cold winter air, then froze.
Her pulse quickened.
She hadn’t even noticed the small white box on the end of the bench that was blending with the light layer of snow. Her hands shook as she placed it in her lap and opened the lid to what she knew she’d find inside—a vial of blood.
His legs burned. There were so many cursed stairs in this city. Soren grumbled as he cleared the last run of them to the top of a hill where there stood a temple larger than any he had ever seen. But he wasn’t here for the temple—he’d come for the view. He ran his eyes over the city to the horizon. He would have given anything for this sight years ago in the height of the Great War. It was a sight he’d never dreamed he’d see. At least not in friendship. Still not in friendship, he reminded himself.
“And how are you finding Valour?” a voice called to his right.The Aleon king.
Did this man not relent? Could he not just leave him in peace until Caspian arrived? What did he want? Soren’s honest opinion?Doubtful.He turned to look at him, and the king smiled.
