Page 45 of War Queen
Caspian. She hadn’t seen him since she’d left him wounded by the library. If he was tending Alexander, then he was doing better. And she could trust him, until she could think. Until she could figure out what to do.
“You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He held her tightly. “Let’s at least get you in the bath.”
Finally, she nodded.
The door opened again, and Serene stepped inside. Her Mercian maid greeted her with tears in her eyes before moving quickly to prepare a bath. It was the first time she’d seen Serene since returning, and while she was happy to see her, she couldn’t muster the energy of joy. Serene said something, but Norah wasn’t sure what, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer.
Norah stood numbly as Mikael pulled the tie from her hair and gently worked out the braid. Then he loosened the back of her gown and helped her step out of it.
Serene returned, but Mikael said, “I’ll tend her.” Then he led Norah to the bath.
She sank into the tub and tinged the water rust and brown. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak. She could only sit as Mikael washed her hair and scrubbed the last traces of blood and battle from her skin. Then she let him pull her out and dress her for sleep.
The overwhelming ache of loss left Norah exhausted, and she sank heavily onto the bed. She let her eyes close, but she knew sleep wouldn’t come. There were no distractions from her grief in the darkness. Mikael crawled into bed beside her and held her as she wept long into the night. And when she thought she had no more tears, she wept some more.
Chapter twelve
Norah’slegsfeltlikethey might not hold her as she walked to the courtyard. The sun had risen, and it shined its warmth down through the crisp fall morning, but it wasn’t enough warmth to stop the shaking inside her. She knew what was to come. She’d been here before—had seen it before—and she wasn’t sure she could face it. But she had to.
The Kharavian warriors parted for her. She was glad they were here. It was easier to accept the darkness when it supported her. And despite the sun, this morning would be dark. Mikael walked behind her, giving her the lead to show a re-risen queen, but stayed close and occasionally brushed her back to remind her he was there.
She paused when she saw the gallows in the center of the courtyard. They’d been temporarily erected, but they seemed so sturdy. So permanent. She pushed out a breath—she’d have them broken down as soon as they were finished.
Three ropes hung from the beam above. There would have been five, but James and Alastair were already dead. She breathed a prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to watch James hang. Despite his betrayal, she knew how much he’d meant to Alexander.
Norah took her place. Mikael once again brushed her back, and she slipped her hand behind her to lace her fingers into his. She skimmed the growing crowd. Not far to her left, she spotted Evangeline, who gave a small curtsy when their gazes caught. Norah nodded back. She didn’t fault her for the circumstance, or anything that had happened. The girl had been a pawn of the council, as Norah had once been. Norah had welcomed her to stay at the castle, but with the death of her father, Lord Allan, during the battle to take back the kingdom, Evangeline had asked to return to her home city of Damask to live with her aunt. It was an understandable request, and one that Norah was happy to grant, and she also ensured Evangeline was provided everything fitting of a royal. It was the right thing to do. Evangeline would stay in the line of succession, should Norah have no heir.
So Evangeline would be queen one day.
The soldiers parted on the opposite side of the courtyard, both Kharavian and Mercian soldiers, and Soren pushed three men forward. Three councilmen. One man cowered behind the other two—Edward, unsurprisingly. Soren prodded them forward with the eye spear on his battle-axe, and they staggered to the gallows.
Edward’s panicked eyes found Norah. Her fingers clutched Mikael’s hand tighter, but she didn’t waver. These men deserved death. And they’d receive it.
“The gods strike you all!” Edward screamed. “Be damned! You’ll be damned by Hammel himself, in the darkest depths of the hells!”
The corners of Soren’s eyes turned up. He was smiling underneath his wrap. “Good,” he replied. “Then I’ll see you there, where I can kill you again—but the way that I truly want to.”
Edward gasped.
Soren pushed them under each rope, looping the noose and tightening it around each of their necks. The other two councilmen stood silently, but the eyes of all three were wide with terror.
Soren didn’t look at her as he worked. After the battle, she had expected she’d have to restrain him from slaying the councilmen on sight, but he’d taken the laws of Mercia seriously, not just allowing a trial but requiring it—albeit a short trial. He brought the councilmen before her in the throne room, and he judged them in the name of Alexander—judged them as guilty and sentenced them to death.
He stood now, all preparations made, and finally looked to Norah. Her heart pounded in her chest. Faster. Then faster still. He turned and nodded to a man on the side of the gallows.
The floor fell out from underneath the feet of the councilmen, and even though she knew what was coming, she flinched. Mikael leaned into her back, ever so slightly, giving her the power of his body behind her. Two of the councilmen hung limply, their necks immediately broken, but Edward squirmed at the end of his rope. A sickening groan escaped his lips. Death was necessary, yes, but it was supposed to be quick. She needed it to be quick.
“Soren,” she gasped.
He pulled a dagger and ran Edward through with the blade. The councilman stilled, then swung from his rope with the hilt of the dagger from his ribs. Soren turned back to her, his dark eyes burning.
Norah swallowed the bile building in her throat, and he dropped his head with a hint of apology. She leaned against Mikael, and let his warmth calm her.
It was over, and she could breathe.
