Page 27 of War Queen
TherumpofMikael’shorse was quite large, like the rest of the beast. Dust faded the midnight-black coat that lay underneath. Why was she watching a horse’s rump? They’d been riding for two days, having departed Kharav for Mercia with the full army, and her mind was all over the place. They were holding on to the nobles by a thread, headed toward a battle where they weren’t sure whether they’d find an ally or a foe, and praying their other enemies wouldn’t notice and take advantage of an undefended Kharav while they were gone. And then there was Soren’s return. Norah blew out a breath and urged Sephir up beside her husband.
He rode quietly.
“You have to talk to him at some point, you know,” she said.
He kept his eyes forward. “No, I don’t.”
She looked back over her shoulder at Soren riding at the end of their company. His wrap covered his face, and he was too far for her to see his eyes, but she knew he still wasn’t himself.
“Yes, you do,” she pressed. She smiled wryly. “It’s not possible for you to hate him. I know—I’ve tried.”
But his face held no reaction. “He betrayed us.”
Norah stiffened and cast all joking aside now. “He didn’t betray us. Knock it off with that absurdity.”
“It’s not absurd, he—”
“No more!” she snapped in a sudden flash of anger.
His head jerked toward her, and his eyes blazed. “You can’t be serious.”
She’d never been more serious. She’d tried continuously to help him move forward with Soren. She’d tried in all the ways of kindness, but her patience was gone, replaced by a sudden defensiveness. “I mean it,” she hissed. “That is your brother, both of blood and heart. You need to sort out the mess between you two.” She was done with this conversation and done with this ridiculousness altogether. Norah urged Sephir forward and away. “And don’t come back to me until you do,” she called over her shoulder.
Time passed slowly. They reached the eastern pass of the Canyonlands and then wove west, toward the Uru. It was a longer route, but easier and faster to navigate the whole of the Kharavian army through. The ride already felt like an eternity, and Mercia still seemed lifetimes away, especially with Mikael keeping his distance. As he should. She’d been serious—she was done with him until he mended things with Soren. He needed to do it soon, though. She missed him, especially at night alone in their tent, which he respectfully stayed out of.
They neared the Uru lands toward early evening on the fifth day, and she slipped down from Sephir with an exaggerated slump. They weren’t quite to the village, but walking would breathe some life back into her.
Strange—Tahla hadn’t come to greet her yet, but she would see her at the village. Norah was excited. She hadn’t seen Tahla since fleeing Mercia so many months before, and even that time was a blur. Norah chided herself—she should have visited, or at least written. Why hadn’t she? She’d been so caught up in her own wallowing. She hoped her friend had stayed well. They had a lot to catch up on.
They reached the ridge, and Norah smiled at the beautiful view of the sprawling terraced stone houses of the Uru. It had been too long since she’d been there.
“This sight never ceases to amaze me,” Adrian said, drawing up and dismounting beside her.
She loved how he saw its beauty too. “Same.” And she was happy he was with her again. Norah glanced at him. She had given him a good berating for the worry he’d caused when he left to find Soren without telling her, and she threw in a couple of threats for good measure before breaking down in tears of thanks. Now that he was by her side again, as was Soren and Sephir, and now that Mercia was potentially so close to being retaken, things seemed like they could be set right.
As she neared the center house leading Sephir, she stopped.
Tahla emerged from inside, smiling.
With a very swollen belly.
Mikael chuckled as he shifted in his saddle. Seeing Tahla with child was the last thing he’d expected. She was a woman who’d just as soon cut off one’s manhood than allow herself to be wooed.
“Tahla!” Salara exclaimed, and Mikael watched as his wife swept forward and pulled the chief’s daughter into a warm embrace. “What a surprise—congratulations!”
A pain daggered his heart. Salara put on a brave face, but she had to be thinking of their own failure for a child. Of his failure to give her one. He desperately wanted to put his arms around her now, to hold her. She’d want his touch. It comforted her like hers comforted him. But he wasn’t allowed to do that. Not yet.
Mikael slid down from his destrier and made his way toward them. “Tahla,” he greeted with a smile, putting on a brave face of his own.
She bowed her head with a grin. “Salar.”
He glanced around the village. “Do you have a man tied up around here, or have you properly chosen a mate?”
She laughed.
“Good luck getting an answer from her,” Coca Otay said in the Urun tongue, coming out of the center house. “She won’t speak of him. I don’t know if I’m welcoming a son or need to bury a body.”
Mikael smiled at the Urun chief as the old man stepped to him and clasped his shoulder.
