Page 56 of War Queen
Anger lined his face.
“Don’t be angry with him,” she said. “He cares for me. And worries.”
His brow creased in confusion.
“He took your death hard. He won’t admit it, but I see it in him. Adrian did too. He was devastated. Still is.” She sucked in a breath. “Are you able to go to others—”
He stood. Shewaspressing him too hard.
“All right,” she said quickly, and she stood too. “I just thought, at least Adrian.”
Adrian’s name brought no reaction from him, no semblance of recognition.
“Do you not remember your brother?” she asked him.
He stilled, and his eyes widened.
“He misses you. Terribly.”
His expression was still one of surprise, but his eyes shifted down as sadness moved over him. How cruel fate was. All Alexander had known was loss—loss of family, of love. Of life.
And she owned a piece of that. What she wouldn’t do to go back and give him a different life…
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. He didn’t balk. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything. For any pain I’ve ever caused you, I’m sorry.” Tears sprung from her eyes. “You deserved so much more, so much better than me, and so much better than what fate gave you.”
His eyes softened as they met hers, and his lips parted slightly. He covered her hand with his.
“Alexander,” she breathed.
Suddenly his expression changed, hardened, and he pulled back.
“Alexander,” she said again, and she stepped forward, following him as the darkness closed around her. “Alexander!”
But he was gone.
Norah opened her eyes and found herself again on the floor of her chamber, near the fireplace. She crossed her arms and hugged herself to ease her shaking.
This was no madness of the mind.
Alexander wasn’t dead.
Chapter fifteen
Theyoungbearrodeahead of him. Soren had charged him with protecting his king, and Mikael knew it was a charge Adrian took as seriously as life. In such a short time, he’d grown from a boy to man, from simple soldier to warrior. Mikael had noted a change in Soren toward him too—a shift from enemy to friend. To brother.
It was good. Soren needed more brothers.
They traveled with only the sound of their horses’ hoofbeats. Adrian’s eyes swept the horizon diligently—assessing every ridge, every rock, every detail—as they made their way through the flats of the Tribelands. They stayed wary through their grueling pace, with good reason. They had to reach the Canyonlands to protect Kharav, and to protect themselves. Only with the canyons could they defend against the combined armies of Japheth and Rael. Although, even with the canyons…
Mikael pushed the thought from his mind. Kharav had never been conquered. He wouldn’t allow it now.
Adrian glanced over his shoulder, and their gazes met. Each day he looked more like his brother—more serious, more determined, more purposeful.
Fearless and loyal.
The Bear brothers were nothing if not fearless and loyal. Caution to the man who fought against them, and fortune to the man with one by his side. Mikael reached up and brushed the scar on his face that the Bear had given him so long ago. It was faint now, barely noticeable, but a reminder, as if he’d ever forget. He’d been fortunate that day to keep his life, and in looking at the young bear now, he considered himself fortunate still.
Adrian’s armor bore the winterhawk crest of the North, but the dark color of Kharav, the only armor of its kind. Adrian had it made after Soren had mentioned him taking up his brother’s armor, the armor that had once belonged to their father. Adrian had flatly refused. Mikael could understand. There were two ways to honor fallen blood: wear the armor or display it.
