Page 21 of War Queen
Kharavian nobles of the court bore the markings of fighting men, but unlike warriors of the army, they generally wore more clothing. Not substantially more—maybe a wrap of fine silk over a shoulder; an open, sleeveless tunic; or other accents and pieces that displayed their wealth. But today brought a throne room of bare chests and prominent battle markings. A message.
Norah’s heart beat faster as her eyes traveled over their bodies laden with weapons. True, Kharavians loved their blades, and many wore them when they came before Mikael. But today, there seemed to be more.Werethere more? More swords? More daggers?
Would there be more blood?
The prior confrontation between Mikael and the nobles that had left Narsing dead was still fresh in her mind. As it was for them all, she was sure. Did this display mean that they were well prepared to challenge the crown now?
And they didn’t even know yet about Mikael’s news.
Bile rose in the back of her throat.
The nobles wouldn’t support a march to war with Mercia, especially to reseat a queen they didn’t want from a kingdom they had warred with for ten years—a queen who’d failed to bring a true alliance with the marriage and who failed to give an heir. And judging from their stares, now a queen who influenced unwanted changes to their throne room.
The air hung heavy, leaving her lungs unfed despite her breaths. Sweat beaded across the nape of her neck. With no room now between the thrones, Bhastian stood to her left, close, where Adrian normally stood. Adrian still hadn’t returned.
Kiran stood to Mikael’s right, and the rest of the Crest lined the wall behind them. On the surface, they looked prepared for a confrontation. But truly, if a battle for the crown broke out, the Crest would take her and flee.
Norah’s argument with Mikael had gone late into the night before, but it did nothing to change his position. She had refused to leave him, but it wasn’t a choice anymore. Bhastian had his orders, and he’d follow them—if the nobles rose against them, he and the Crest would take her to the only place safe for her in the world now. Back to the Wild.
But Norah had no intention of going back to the Wild. The dagger strapped to her calf chafed her skin as she crossed her ankles, but she wanted the reminder it was there. She refused to lose two kingdoms. She refused to lose her king. There would be no leaving this throne room unless it was to march to take back Mercia.
She shifted in her chair as she cast a quick glance at Mikael. He sat calmly, his face giving no indication of worry, but his eyes held the threat of blood if things went poorly with his nobles. Mikael was a formidable man and a strong king, but even he couldn’t stand alone against them—not all of them, and not without Soren. But the gods have mercy on the first man to oppose him.
Bhastian beat the floor with the butt of his spear, and a hush fell over the room. Norah’s stomach turned.
“I’ve gathered you on the matter of the North,” Mikael started. “We’ve received word that the Bear prepares to retake the throne in Salara’s name and calls us to join him.”
Yasir, an imposing lord, stepped forward. “You mean you have received word from a man who claims to be sent by the Bear.” Several nobles were members of the Circle. Yasir was one of them and, as such, had already been briefed on the circumstance and all its details.
“Yes,” Mikael answered.
“So, the North would draw us out from the protections of the Canyonlands to take back the throne of the queen they unseated?”
Norah hated how he spun the story.
“The council took the throne by mercenaries, not with the Northern army,” Mikael countered.
Jarik stepped forward now. The sight of the warlord made Norah shudder. He was definitely wearing more blades than he had before. Her heart hammered against her chest.
“The time for the Northern army to have fought would have been during the coup,” Yasir said.
“The attack came suddenly,” Norah interjected. “No one knew it was happening. You know this.”
Yasir ignored her, as did Jarik. Their eyes stayed leveled on Mikael.
Despite the cold of autumn creeping in, the air was suddenly stifling. Whether it was from her own anger or Mikael’s as his patience started to burn to ash, she didn’t know.
“How do we know Aleon hasn’t joined the North and isn’t merely lying in wait?” Jarik asked. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?”
Mikael was silent for a moment. “We don’t,” he said finally.
A wave of murmurs bubbled through the hall again.
“And how will you respond to this call, Salar?” Yasir and the Circle had been pressing for an answer for days—an answer Mikael would not give.
Until now.
All eyes were on Mikael, and he answered, “We march.”
