Page 165 of War Queen
“And now he marches against us? Against Mercia?”
She left out Lucien’s quest for vengeance against Alexander. That wouldn’t help anything. And it didn’t really matter now. “He marches against Kharav. Mikael’s father is the one who gave him to the Serran slavers.”
“The Shadow King is dead,” he argued.
“I know, but Lucien still holds Mikael accountable. Kharav still has slaves and is still a primary supporter of slave trade.”
He shook his head again but said nothing as he looked back to the pyre. His eyes glistened.
“I told Lucien about you,” she said softly. “He didn’t know.”
His head snapped back to her.
“All this time, he didn’t know about you. He wants to meet you.”
His breath faltered. “You talk to him?”
She nodded.
“Does Salar know? The lord commander?”
She bit the side of her cheek and shook her head.
His eyes blazed back at her. “You’ve been talking to him without Salar knowing?”
“I’ve been trying to broker peace and stop this war. Lucien—he has a heart in him. It’s broken and damaged, but I think it’s possible to get through to him.”
Adrian looked back at the fading embers of the pyre, his breaths uneven. Nothing remained of Alexander now. Adrian wiped his face with his hand.
She reached out her hand to his arm, but he pulled away. “Adrian,” she said.
He shook his head and didn’t answer. Then he turned and started back toward the castle.
“Adrian,” she called after him. But he didn’t stop.
A new day came with the sun. Norah drew in a deep breath as she stepped out of her chamber and down the hall to the stairs. The night had been quiet. Mikael had lain silently, leaving space for her to talk if she wanted, but she didn’t. She did want the comfort of his touch, though, and buried herself in his warmth and refuge.
He had risen with the morning and kissed her before leaving, lingering just long enough to make sure she didn’t want him to stay—to make sure that she didn’t need him, that she wasn’t going to fall apart in delayed sorrow. The scars still remained, but time had healed the sharpest of her pain, and she really was doing better. She kissed him back and waved him off.
Norah hadn’t talked to Adrian again after she’d sent Alexander to the gods. She wanted to give him time to absorb everything, time to think.
She walked alone down the main hall and out through the courtyard, breathing in the winter air. As her eyes settled on Samuel’s gallery, she paused. She hadn’t seen the seer or his painted visions since she last went with Catherine, when Mikael’s fate still remained—even after Alexander was gone.
Now she knew. They all knew. It wasn’t Alexander.
And she froze. It hadneverbeen Alexander in the paintings with Mikael—what about the others? Were there others?
She found herself in front of the door, about to knock, but she stopped. Should she knock? Catherine never knocked. But just like with Soren, that wasn’t indicative. She glanced back at Kiran and Titus. “Wait here,” she told them.
Slowly, she pushed open the door. “Hello?” she called out.
No one answered.
She stepped inside. Paintings stacked in piles littered the gallery floor, just as they had before. But today she had a new eye, a new understanding. She moved through the piles, looking for images of Alexander.
“Queen Norah!”
She turned at the sound of her name as the old seer hobbled in from a back room. “Forgive me, I didn’t know you were coming. Is there something I can help you with?”
