Page 3 of War Queen
“Where is the lord commander now?” Lord Narsing asked.
“He’s not here,” Mikael replied stiffly.
“When will he return?”
“Again, why?” Mikael demanded. “Iam salar. If you have a grievance, you’ll address it with me, not the commander ofmyarmies that he leads with the power givenby me.” He loomed closer to Narsing, daring the noble to challenge him further.
Narsing’s eyes flicked to Jarik. The large warlord put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Faster than Norah could blink, Narsing whipped his hand to his own sword. But Mikael was faster. Before Narsing had fully drawn his blade from the scabbard, Mikael had buried his own blade in the lord, to the hilt—so clean that blood had yet to spill.
Norah jumped to her feet. Adrian and Bhastian bumped against her shoulders on either side, their swords out. But no one else moved. The hall was silent.
Mikael leaned even closer to Narsing, who still hung on his sword. “I accept your challenge,” he snarled. Then he shoved Narsing back off his blade. The lord fell to the floor of the hall and didn’t get up. Blood pooled under his body, spidering along the lines where the patterned stone joined together.
Mikael roved his eyes over the nobles around him. “Anyone else?” His stare landed on Jarik, who stared back. The warlord’s hand was still curled around the hilt of the sword at his side.
The air in the room was suffocating. Norah couldn’t breathe. She had no doubt of Mikael’s ability to fight, especially in defending what was his. But Jarik wasn’t a man she wanted to see against him. He was a man even Soren respected. That meant he was dangerous.
“Anyone else?” Mikael pressed again, not taking his eyes from Jarik.
Norah couldn’t see his face under his head wrap, but Jarik’s eyes held enough of a message that one didn’t need to see his face to understand—a warning.
Finally, after an eternity, the lord said, “No, Salar.” But he didn’t drop his hand from the hilt of his sword.
Norah didn’t dare let relief settle her. This wasn’t over.
Mikael looked around the room. “We’re done here,” he said. Then he turned his back—another invitation for violence that made bile rise in the back of Norah’s throat—as he strode and took the stairs back to his throne.
It was perhaps the shortest, although seemingly the longest, exchange with the nobles Norah had seen. She shakily lowered herself back to her seat as Mikael took his own chair, and they watched everyone start to filter out. Two men grabbed Narsing’s body and carried him from the room, leaving a trail of blood along the stone.
They waited until the last of the nobles had departed and the doors had closed. Even Salara-Mae wordlessly disappeared into the wings and down the side hall from where she’d come.
When they were alone, Norah turned to him. But she couldn’t speak. Her heart still hadn’t slowed.
He held out his hand for her. “Come, journey back to me from that ridiculously far chair.” His words were said in jest, but there was no happiness in them, no play in his voice. Still, she was too eager to be back to him and moved quickly to his side. He caught her hand in his and brought her palm to his lips, planting a reassuring kiss. Whether he was reassuring himself or her, she wasn’t sure.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Are you?”
Heat still pulsed off him. He didn’t answer.
She threaded her fingers into his hair, messing up the tie that bound it back, but she didn’t care. She drew her fingertips gently across the back of his head, as she often did to help him relax.
“I need to appoint someone.” His voice was empty. Hollow.
“For what?”
He didn’t answer.
Norah cupped his cheek and pulled his face to look at her. “Appoint someone for what?” she asked again.
“Lord commander,” he said finally.
She swallowed. “You have a lord commander.”
He said nothing in reply.
She tightened her fingers against his skin. “Mikael, you have a lord commander.”
