Page 116 of War Queen
She forgot about the birds. “How sick?”
“She’s dying, Norah.”
The cold had settled in her core, but she didn’t have the energy to pull more blankets over her. Norah lay in her bed, staring blankly out the window, unseeing. Mikael had stayed with her for a time as the news about her grandmother sank in, then he had gone to prepare for the journey back to Mercia. As she had expected, the birds sparked a fury in him, as did the news about Alexander and the vial of blood, and he insisted on returning with her. It was nonsensical that both he and Soren would accompany her back, but he wouldn’t hear of anything else. She tried to talk him out of it, but only half-heartedly. The truth was she was glad he’d stay with her. She needed him.
Her mind raced and stumbled all at once. The news of Catherine took the air from her lungs. She was all Norah had left. And despite her callousness at times, she was the matriarch that had held Mercia together, had made Norah strong, and Norah loved her. What would life be like without her? What would she even do with Mercia? Catherine took care of everything—Norah didn’t even have to think about it. How was she going to run a kingdom on her own? Catherine couldn’t leave her.
Like Alexander had.
Alexander.
Alexander had left her. More than left her—he was supposed to be watching over her, watching over Mercia, helping her, helping Catherine. Her face twisted as the emotion washed over her. She ripped back the furs and stumbled to the vanity, clawing off the lid and finding the vial. She poured the blood out across her palm.
She demanded him to come. “Alexander!”
But there was no answer.
She tried to calm herself as she closed her eyes. “Where are you?” She heard the anger in her own voice. Anger at him. At her grandmother. At fate.
“Alexander!”
But she stood alone in the darkness of her mind. Would he not come? Was this what had become of them? She sank into the chair of the vanity. Even in her mind she didn’t have the strength to stand.
“Alexander,” she whispered.
Then… the faintest of stirring.
“I know you’re there.”
He stepped forward from the darkness, but she didn’t stand.
“Did you send the birds?” she asked. Her voice cracked. “Did you do that?”
He drew closer, his eyes apologetic, sad.
She shook her head as emotion built in her throat. “Why?”
He stepped even closer, his mouth opening as if about to speak, but he stopped.
“Why would you do that to me?” she whispered. “How could you do that?”
In front of her, slowly, he sank to his knees. Asking forgiveness. A deep sorrow hung across his brow. Her anger dissipated.
“What happened to you?” she whispered. She leaned forward slightly and brought her hand to his cheek. “Is there anything left of the Alexander I knew?”
His eyes shifted down. Ever so slowly, he shook his head.
A cry rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down as she pulled back. “Then you’re not Alexander. If you were, you aren’t anymore. Not truly.”
His chest rose and fell, and a pain etched his face. Again, he shook his head, but he took her hand and pulled it back to his cheek.
Her lip trembled. The tears came freely now. She needed him—not just the Alexander she once loved, not just her lord justice, but the man who had shared a bond with Catherine, the man who would have mourned her grandmother as his own, so that Norah wouldn’t mourn her alone.
“Grandmother’s dying.” Her voice broke as she said it.
His brow dipped, and he clutched her hands tightly.
“Without her, I don’t know what to do.” She shook her head. “And without you too.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m trying not to hate you for leaving me, but I do. I do sometimes.”
