Page 28 of War Queen
“It’s good to see you,” Coca said, but his eyes held concern. “You bring your army. And your anger.”
“I go to war.”
Coca nodded as he looked at Salara. “You go to put the North Queen back on the North throne?”
“Of course.”
“You are a very different man now.”
Yes. Yes, he was. He watched his wife fondly as she still talked with Tahla. His heart swelled. “She’s made me a different man.”
Coca nodded. “It suits you.”
Mikael chuckled.
“Go settle, get food to eat. Rest, my son. You have quite a task ahead of you.”
Mikael nodded as Coca left him to settle in. He glanced around. Tahla had led Salara away in a rush of conversation. It was good to see them together again, and happy.
Coca had been right. Salara had changed him—had changed how he saw the world, what he wanted. She was kind and smart and brave. She was compassionate and forgiving. She was strong, and she made him strong. And she was right. He needed to mend things with Soren. Not simply so he could go back to her, but because she knew what he needed. And he needed his brother.
Adrian approached. “The army’s settled, Salar. I’ll be with them.”
Mikael nodded. “Where’s Soren?”
“He’s checking rations and weapons.”
“Have him come.”
“Yes, Salar.” And the young bear turned on his heel and headed back to the army outside the village.
Mikael took a seat on a log by the large fire. He had always loved this about the Uru—that they grouped around the fire. Dancing. Celebrating. Celebrating wins, even in the face of loss. Celebrating life.
Obeweta brought him a large bowl of stew. He’d known the elder woman since he was a boy, and he smiled appreciatively at her. Coca was very much like a father figure to him, and the Uru were his family. And he was fortunate for his family.
All of them.
A silent presence stepped beside him.
“Salar,” Soren said quietly.
They hadn’t spoken since Mikael had stripped him of his title nearly a week and a half ago. The heat of anger at his betrayal came rushing back, but also the pain of loss. Soren’s leaving had hurt him, more than he had thought he could ever be hurt. Yet there was still something that hurt worse. Missing him. Without Soren by his side, a piece was gone from him. And he needed to be whole again.
“Sit.”
Soren took a seat on the log beside him.
Mikael handed him his bowl of stew. “Eat, brother. We’ve wounds to mend and battles to win.”
Their eyes locked.
“Lord Commander,” Mikael added.
Soren took it slowly, and his eyes glistened in the firelight.
They sat in silence. Soren pulled down his head wrap and drained the bowl before setting it down beside him.
Then Mikael held out his dagger.
