Page 137 of War Queen
While typically kings—and queens—remained safely back from the front lines of war, it also wasn’t unusual for them to be with their army. And although this was something she had expected Soren to praise, it clearly wasn’t a decision he was pleased with.
“He wanted to position his army in the mountains of Songs,” he told her. “He’d give up Eilor temporarily but hold more favorable ground in the mountains. I told him I needed his forces in Eilor to push Rael into the Canyonlands.”
“Was it the wrong decision? For him to move his forces to Eilor?”
He shook his head. “No. Not for the overall strategy. But it’s dangerous for Aleon. Our plan assumes Rael will be more inclined to drive the war to Kharav. If they strike Aleon up through Eilor, Phillip’s army isn’t at an advantage, and they could be broken.”
And then she realized. “You worry for him.” It wasn’t a question.
They stood quietly.
“It’s different,” he said after a while.
She looked up at him. “What is?”
“With Salar, I felt like… together we could conquer the world. And simply standing beside him, being loved by him was enough. Enough to be content. Happy.” He glanced down at his hands. “But Phillip—Phillip is different. There’s… a wanting. A hunger that can’t be sated, a thirst that can’t be quenched, like nothing will ever be enough. I don’t want…” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t want him to go.”
“Phillip is a very competent king,” she assured him, “with one of the largest armies in the world surrounding him. And you yourself have tested his skills. He can certainly take care of himself.”
“It’s not enough.”
She understood that feeling—she felt it with Mikael. So, she offered him the choice she had wanted: “Do you want to go with him? Do you want to go to Eilor?” With Phillip and the guarantee of blood and battle, she was certain he would take her up the suggestion.
But his brows drew together. “My place is here. With you.”
“Just because you’re sworn to me doesn’t mean you have to stay in Mercia.”
He shook his head. “I promised to watch over you.”
“Mikael understands that Eilor—”
“Not Salar. I promised the Bear. If Eilor falls and Rael advances north, you’ll need me. My place is here.”
“Soren—”
“Stop,” he said sharply, and she quieted. He sighed. “This is where my family is—you and Salar. Where my duty is. I don’t want to go. I won’t.”
“Okay,” she said, softer now. “But we can’t let Aleon fall. If Phillip needs you, you’ll have to go. I’d want you to go.”
Finally, he nodded. “If he needs me.”
“Now come on, we’re late for dinner. Phillip will be by himself with Mikael, and while things have been going well so far, I’d like to not push it.”
Soren snorted, and they headed toward the dining room.
Despite the army of men in the courtyard preparing to take the Aleon king to Eilor, the halls of the castle were eerily silent. Soren reached Phillip’s chamber and raised his fist to the door, but paused. He cursed himself. He’d told Salara he didn’t want to go, but he did. It had been a long time since he’d quenched his thirst for battle, but that wasn’t what called him. Eilor would be dangerous, even for a king like Phillip. Soren would send Adrian back to Phillip after the grandmother passed, sooner if Rael attacked. But even with Adrian by his side, Phillip wouldn’t be safe enough. He pulled down his wrap and drew in a breath.
Suddenly the door opened, and he jerked up to find the king looking back at him.
Phillip took a step back in surprise. Then he smiled—that smile. “Lord Commander.” He stepped back farther, opening the door, and Soren swept inside.
“The army’s ready,” Soren told him. “Are you?”
Phillip nodded. “I was just headed down.”
They stood, staring at each other.
Phillip stepped closer to him. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
