Page 46 of War Queen
Salara only stared at her breakfast as Mikael watched her. She put nothing in her mouth. She just stared at it. But he knew she wasn’t looking at the food, wasn’t seeing it.
The councilmen had been executed the day before, but no doubt it was still fresh in her mind, as it was in his. It had been too quick a death, too kind, but neither he nor Soren intervened to change it. Salara had needed it to be over, and he’d given her that.
He wished he could give her more. He wished he could give her the Bear. It was a strange feeling, watching one’s wife grieve so deeply over another man, but he couldn’t muster any jealousy, not anymore. He’d come to accept that the Bear held a piece of her heart. Mikael had the assurance she loved him—he knew she was faithful to him, and she chose him over and over again. And maybe he’d also come to accept that the Bear deserved her love. Maybe it was a combination of those things that let him be at peace with it.
Mikael had foregone his seat at the opposite end of the table in order to sit next to her. He knew she needed him near.
Her eyes closed, and it was a long moment before she opened them again. She swallowed cautiously, as if her own tongue might choke her. Mikael reached across the corner of the table and took her hand. He didn’t try to make her eat. He didn’t ask her questions or prompt her to speak. He just sat in the silence, letting her know he was there by his touch.
The grandmother sat stoically to Salara’s left, across the table from him. Her face was pale, and her lined eyes were trenched in grief. She’d spent the early morning in the mortium with the Bear. This woman had seen a lot of death over her years, had lost many she’d cared about. But Mikael knew she loved the Bear as her own blood and the loss cut her deeply. It was a wound he wasn’t sure her heart would ever fully recover from.
Catherine’s voice came barely above a whisper, but it broke the quiet of the hall. “When are we sending him to the gods?” she asked.
Salara swallowed again, and her eyes drifted slowly up from her plate to her grandmother. It had been three days since the Bear’s death. Mikael hadn’t pressed her, but she’d have to make a decision soon.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure she’d answer.
Then she said, “Adrian thinks he would have wanted to remain here, to watch over Mercia.”
Catherine drew in an even breath as she stared at her granddaughter. “Are you thinking of not sending him?”
Salara didn’t answer. Mikael knew she didn’t want to talk about this right now. But she would have to, eventually.
“You would keep him from his glory? Give him no rest?” Her grandmother looked at Mikael, but he offered no reaction, no support. This wasn’t his decision. The old woman shook her head. “Norah, you cannot.”
Mikael didn’t necessarily agree with that.
“I haven’t decided,” Salara replied.
“What is there to decide?” her grandmother pressed her. “You have to send him to the life beyond.”
Yes, that was how things were done in the North, but as someone who didn’t believe in a life beyond, Mikael deemed a body all the more sacred—it was all that was left of a person. And for a person so loved… He’d laid his father into the earth, and his sister. To have burned what was left—he wondered if he could’ve done that. It was hard to imagine.
“I’m just not sure that’s what he would want,” Salara said.
“Not what he would want?” the old woman asked sharply. “Or not whatyouwant?”
Salara fell quiet. Anger coiled inside him. He didn’t think this was about what Salara wanted—she didn’t want any of this—and he didn’t like that assumption placed on her.
“And where would you put him?” her grandmother asked. “Are you going to keep him in the mortium?”
Salara leaned forward with her elbow on the table and rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. In the Hall of Souls, maybe.”
“You can’t put him in the Hall of Souls. There’s no place for him!”
“I’ve been in there, I’ve seen it. There are lots of places.” She was close to breaking; he could hear it in her voice.
“For future kings and queens, as they are bound to watch over Mercia. But you must relieve Alexander of his duty.”
“He wouldn’t want to be relieved!” Salara cried, her grief rising to the surface again and spilling down her cheeks.
The room quieted.
Still, Mikael said nothing.
Salara rested her forehead against her palm. She wasn’t in a state to decide this now.
“Norah,” her grandmother said, softly now. “You have to let him go.”
