Page 128 of War Queen
Soren’s eye caught on the small braid in the animal’s mane, and he scowled.
Salara.
Kal, she called him. Kal sounded like a packhorse name, but the animal came to it nonetheless, much to Soren’s dismay. She was always giving him sugar and fruit, spoiling him, as she had the dogs. He missed the dogs. Brave beasts. If there were gods, and if anyone or anything deserved to be among them, it was the selfless animals that had given their all.
Soren pulled off his leather farrier’s apron and draped it over the rail, then unclipped the animal’s halter from the wall. “Come on, Kal,” he said as he led the great destrier back to his stall.
The light of morning brought little warmth as he stepped into the frigid air, but Soren was in high spirits, and that was enough to warm him. Adrian would be arriving soon, something he was looking forward to. He’d never been a proud man, but he was proud now. Adrian had grown into a warrior, a leader, and a man respected by three of the greatest kingdoms in the world, and Soren loved him like his own blood. But it was under sad circumstances he was returning. Death would come soon for the grandmother. This was the woman who had raised Salara, and the Bear, and Adrian. She was a woman greatly respected, and she’d be a woman greatly mourned.
It shouldn’t take Adrian too long to reach the castle. Last Soren had received word from him, he’d been on his way to Praetoria, the westernmost kingdom of the Aleon Empire.
Aleon.
Soren tried not to think about Aleon. He’d left the king with an awkwardness between them. Phillip had told him it was his move. And he’d simply left.
The bells rang out, and Soren’s lips curved into a smile under his wrap. Adrian had arrived. He pulled his cloak around him, clipped it in place, and started toward the castle. The stables sat on the lower west bank, and it was a long walk for such a small isle. He reached the west doors and wove through the halls, but when he stepped into the great hall, it was empty. Unusual.
“Where’s the arrival?” he called to a servant.
“Queen Norah is in the throne room, my lord.”
The throne room? That was a bit much to receive Adrian, but this was the North, and they were strange here. He picked up toward the throne room and entered from a side hall to see Salara and Salar both on their thrones. Mikael didn’t like the Northern throne; he didn’t like to sit on it. Strange that he would take it now. Perhaps this place was turning him strange too.
Adrian stood with a small cluster of Aleon soldiers, his helm under his arm. A smile broke across his face when he saw Soren. “Lord Commander,” he greeted.
Soren crossed the space between them and clasped Adrian’s shoulder in warm welcome. “Little Bear.”
“Soren!” Salara exclaimed as she stood. “Where were you? I’ve been looking all over for you.” There was urgency in her voice, and Soren jerked his head toward her in surprise. Why would—
The doors of the throne room opened, quieting the hall, and another group of Aleon soldiers entered.
And leading them—the Aleon king.
Soren froze. The king swept forward with a graceful strength, his movement sure and fluid. His long strides covered the length of the throne room faster than Soren could wrap his mind around his arrival.
The king stopped a short distance from him, his eyes on Salar and Salara.
“King Phillip,” Salara said, “welcome to Mercia.”
He’d come to the North.Why?
“Queen Norah,” Phillip greeted in return. “I know I come on little notice, but when I heard about Lady Catherine, and given your invitation when last in Aleon, I couldn’t not.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said. “My grandmother will be very happy to see you.” Salara stood and held out her hand.
Phillip stepped forward and took it, bringing it to his lips with a slight dip of his head. As he released Salara’s hand, he locked stares with Salar. They stood in silence, taking each other in.
Mikael stood as well. His face remained fixed, showing nothing, but this was the first time he’d met the Aleon king face-to-face. Surely this surprise visit wouldn’t come easily.
Salara reached back and looped her hand under Mikael’s arm. “Let me present my husband, Mikael Ratha Shal, salar of Kharav and king of Mercia.”
“Salar Mikael,” Phillip greeted, dipping his head respectfully.
Mikael stood for a moment, then did the same. “King Phillip,” he said, and the air lightened. But only ever so slightly.
The Aleon king turned his head, and his eyes found Soren’s. Their stares caught, perhaps a little too long. Soren knew the other eyes in the room were on them, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from the king. “Lord Commander,” Phillip greeted finally.
But Soren was lost for words. He said nothing.
