Page 190 of War Queen
Phillip’s hand gripped him reassuringly. “We need to show you something.” He led Soren out of the tent to where the enemy armies spanned the horizon.
Adrian pointed to the far right of the Raelean army. “Look at that tent. The one with the large red banner.”
Soren saw it. “All right.”
“And now look at the one in the center. Look at their banners.”
“All right.” What was he looking for?
“Do you see how they move exactly the same with the wind?”
Banners flying in the wind. “All right?”
Adrian’s brows creased. “Isn’t that interesting?”
Was it?
“Keep following,” Adrian said. He pointed back to the far right of the army. “Do you see that man, on the end, with a can-looking helm?”
Soren squinted. The army was far, and he could barely make out one man from another. Damn getting old. But then he spotted the man Adrian referred to. “Okay.”
“Now look.” Adrian swung his finger to the left a little.
It took Soren a moment, but then he spotted him. The same man. But standing in a different place.
Adrian pointed a little more to the left, at another. “And again.”
And Soren saw the same man yet again.
“Pick another man,” Phillip said, “any other Raelean man, and it’s all the same. Replicated across.”
Replicated across… Soren’s mind turned. What did that mean? How was an army replicated—
“I think they’re fake,” Adrian said.
A fake army…
Why would Rael have a fake army?
Norah stood in the courtyard of the stronghold, eyeing Titus with frustration as she readied to depart. Mikael had made him swear to take her back to Mercia, even if he had to drag her. She promised to go, but she couldn’t. She stalled for two days, until Titus wouldn’t let her delay anymore and threatened to make good on his promise, and it infuriated her.
Calla sat on her horse quietly, which was out of character. It was better that way. Norah didn’t need anything else fueling her fire. She was already two heartbeats away from knifing Titus in the heel and making a run for Bahoul, to Mikael. But what would she do after? She had nothing that would help him. In fact, she’d be a hindrance more than anything else. But she couldn’t go back to Mercia.
A horn blew in the distance, and she turned.
“Messenger!” the watchman called, and her pulse quickened.
From where? Who would send a messenger?
The iron gate raised, and a messenger swept in on a heavily lathered horse, pulling it up abruptly. He’d driven the animal hard. “I’ve a message for King Mikael of Kharav,” he announced.
Norah frowned. The title sounded strange to her ears. “He departed already,” she said, “but I’m salara of Kharav and queen of Mercia. What’s your message?”
He slid from his horse and held the letter for her with a bow. “From King Tagasi of Osan.”
Why would King Tagasi be sending Mikael a letter? Yes, he was now allied with Phillip and had joined their cause, but she hadn’t thought them friendly enough to be exchanging letters directly. Norah broke the red-and-yellow seal, then stopped suddenly.
Red and yellow. Red and yellow were the colors of Osan.
