Page 33 of War Queen
He pushed faster. Torches sprang up down the mainways, lighting up the night. As he rounded the corner of the massive library, almost to the keep, Soren spotted him.
The Bear.
The justice fought in his signature battle dress with the head of the great Northern bear on his shoulder. Flames from the torchlit city gleamed off his armor. Soren hated it—the Bear always looking so fucking majestic.
A small group of Northmen fought by his side against a troupe of mercenary Holy Knights as even more mercenaries poured out of the keep. Curse the North gods—they’d be slaughtered. Soren and his men surged toward them. These hired swords were the best there were, and the Northmen were no match.
A mercenary lunged at a Northman with his spear, and the soldier spun sideways, using the momentum to grab it and arc around, ripping it from the mercenary’s hands.
Soren snorted.Not bad.Quite good, actually. Better than he’d remembered. Training in Kharav had turned the Northmen into respectable soldiers. Perhaps they’d last a little longer than he’d thought.
But now the Northmen were outnumbered and falling one by one. Three mercenaries swept around, attacking the Bear at all sides and knocking him to the ground. One advanced and swung his sword over his head to deliver a deathly blow. Soren let out a snarl as he barreled through, cleaving his massive battle-axe into the man’s back and felling him midswing. The two Kharavian warriors by his side took up the others.
The Bear lay on his back, and Soren held out his hand. The justice gaped up at him for a moment before clasping his forearm and letting Soren pull him to his feet.
“What took you so long?” the Bear panted.
Soren cursed. “As I told the old woman, I got here in just over two weeks’ time, with myentirearmy.”
More mercenaries joined the ranks against them, and the two men defensively positioned themselves back-to-back.
“And we weren’t sure the message wasn’t a ruse,” Soren added.
A mercenary attacked with a series of maneuvers that pushed Soren back, against the Bear. These soldiers were good—too good.
“What do you mean a ruse?” Alexander snapped over his shoulder as he worked his own defense. “I sent you a miner, so you’d know it was from me.”
What?Why? Soren snorted in utter confusion. “Why would you send aminer?”
Alexander ran a man through on his sword and paused. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously before kicking the dead man off his blade. “You told me Northmen soldiers were shit, that you’d rather have our miners because you’d only trust a man who could properly swing an axe.” He panted between swings. “I sent you a miner.”
Soren landed a fatal wound on the mercenary in front of him. “I never said that,” he argued.
“You definitely said that.”
And suddenly, he did remember telling the Bear those words. “Am I supposed to remember everything I say?” He kicked back another soldier. “And there was nothing else you could send? You know—a letter with a seal, something meaningful, other than a stupid reference to a comment I might have made years ago?”
“Something the council would have traced back to me should they have caught him?” the Bear cut back through labored breaths. “And it wasn’t years ago. It was right before you left Mercia. You were supposed to know what it meant.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Soren spat. “You should have sent something meaningful to Salara.”
Alexander stopped. “But I neededyou. The message was foryou.”
Soren spilled the entrails of another man and paused. The Bear had needed him. “Oh.” He should have gotten the reference. He should have driven the army to the North faster. “Well, it was a stupid fucking message.”
Soren glanced across the city, which was now lit up in battle. He could see that the tall gates of the bridge were open, which meant the Kharavian army was in. He looked back to Alexander. “Your brother leads my army across the bridge. Your queen comes for her throne.”
The faintest of smiles pulled at the corners of the Bear’s mouth. “To the keep, then? The council’s there.”
Soren gave a nod. “To the keep.”
The clang of sword strikes rang through the air as she charged over the bridge atop Sephir. Norah held her own sword in her hand, although she hardly needed it. The Shadow army protectively surrounded her like a thick fog—she could barely see through them. It wasn’t entirely as she’d imagined when she thought of herself riding into battle to take back her kingdom. Not that she wanted to fight, or kill, but she’d been prepared to.
In the distance, she heard Mikael’s booming voice, giving orders to his army in the Kharavian tongue. Somewhere just ahead of her, Adrian echoed, and the ranks around her pushed forward.
Her eyes combed the sea of battling men… Where was Alexander?
As they pressed deeper into the capital and through the courtyard, more men flocked around her, and she noticed it wasn’t just her Kharavian warriors. The gleam of silver armor blended into the black of shadows—her loyal Northmen, joining her at her side.
