Page 164 of War Queen
“What if he wants to see him?” Mikael asked.
“Then he’ll see him,” she said firmly.
The shadow under Mikael’s brow grew darker, but he didn’t argue.
Chapter forty
Thepyreburnedbrightly.Heat tinged her face, but she didn’t move. She only stood, hypnotized by the flame. Norah thought she’d been ready, but as Caspian had lit the base, it was all she could do not to stop him. She needed this, she reminded herself. They all needed this. Alexander too.
She also thought she’d have tears. The gods knew how much she missed him—how she would give almost anything in the world to have him back again. And her heart still hurt and grieved, but the tears didn’t come. Maybe it was a sign she truly was ready. Or maybe it was because she knew she needed to be strong for Adrian, who stood beside her.
When she’d told him she was going to send Alexander to the gods, he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t objected. Perhaps he accepted it now too. That’s what she hoped. This would help them both heal.
They stood silently, watching the pyre being consumed by the flame. She hadn’t told him about Lucien yet. She wasn’t sure whether to deliver the news all at once or separately. And how would she find the words?
Her eyes drifted to him as he watched the flame. His face was fixed, stoic. Normally so full of expression, so full of light, he wore a mask now. Norah reached out her hand and took his. He didn’t look at her but tightened his fingers around hers.
And they stood.
They stood until the fire ebbed and faded. Until everyone finally took their leave to give them space. They stood until they were the last two, and then they stood some more.
She looked up at him, watching his unmoving sorrow.
“He was all I had left,” he whispered when only embers remained.
Well, if she didn’t take that as an opportunity, she was a fool. But her stomach still dipped in apprehension. “There’s something else I have to tell you,” she said softly.
Finally, he broke his gaze from what remained of the pyre and looked down at her by his side.
“Adrian, Lucien’s alive.”
His brow came down slightly, and he leaned back on his heel. Then he shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. He died. A long time ago.”
“No,” she whispered. “He didn’t. He lives.”
He shook his head again. “Alexander wouldn’t have lied to me.”
“He didn’t know.”
His breaths came faster and shallower. “My mother wouldn’t have lied to me. Or my father.”
As lord justice, his father would have been occupied by the needs of the kingdom. He would have known whatever his wife had wanted him to know. And Adrian remembered his mother fondly—very differently from Lucien.
“He’s dead,” he said firmly. He nodded as he trembled. “He’s dead.”
“I’ve seen him.”
He stepped back, pulling his hand from hers. “When? Where?” His breath became ragged.
“When I went to meet Cyrus.”
Confusion flooded his face.
“HeisCyrus,” she said.
He shook his head again, and his nostrils flared. “No, that’s not possible.”
“He was captured as a child and taken as a slave to Rael. As a man, he led a rebellion and overthrew the king. Then he took the kingdom of Serra from those who had put him into slavery.”
