Page 26 of War Queen
He grumbled at all her questions. “It’s the place of dead gods. Back when Kharav had gods.”
“Kharav had gods?”
He nodded. “Many generations ago, Kharav had many gods. There are ruins in Khalakhan, with their symbols still carved in the stone. It’s where the gods were born. And where they died.”
She stared at him. “So, they just all… died?”
Soren shrugged. “Well, that’s what happens when men stop believing in gods. They die.”
Norah drew her brows together. That made no sense. “Or… they continue living, because what do they care? They’re gods.”
“You wanted me to tell the story, and I’m telling it,” he said between his teeth.
She shifted. “Fine. Sorry.”
Soren set his eyes forward again but didn’t pick back up. She squirmed inside. She hadn’t meant to shut him down.
“Did you go to ask for wisdom from these gods?” she jested with a smile, trying to stir some lightness. “Because you obviously didn’t have any of it when you left.”
His brows dipped. “Why would I ask them for anything? I just said they were dead.”
“Oh. Right.”
He gave a faint shake of his head. “I went there because I was sad, and I wanted to be with dead things.”
That wasn’t the admission she was expecting, and she stilled. “Oh,” she said softly.
“And I knew it was a place no one goes,” he added. “No one would bother me.”
“Except Adrian?”
“I should have known,” he grumbled in agreement. “I thought if it was anyone it would be you, but I forgot how annoyingly persistent he can be too.”
Her smile returned.
His brow creased again. “Did you lay on my bed?”
“No.” She bit her bottom lip.Not today.
He pulled a long hair from the side of the bed as he glared at her. Then another.
Norah swayed as she looked around the room innocently. “I would come in here to think,” she confessed. She grew more serious and turned back to him. “I missed you, Soren.”
Surprisingly, she wasn’t met with a snarky reply. He only looked at her. He wouldn’t say it back, but his silence spoke for him.
“You’re the only one,” he said finally.
“Mikael’s missed you too. Your leaving hurt him, but he’ll come around.” She reached out and clasped his forearm and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
Soren ran his fingers over the scabbed gash on his shoulder.
“It’ll heal,” she told him.
“But there will always be a scar.”
In more ways than one, she knew. “Life is like the supreme Salta Tau,” she told him, thinking of the ink mastera. “And scars are the markings of your story. They’re a testament to what you’ve survived. You’ll heal.Bothof you.”
Chapter eight
