Page 63 of War Queen
Soren locked eyes with Norah. “Until you set the North on a different course with an alliance with Kharav.”
She leaned back in her chair. “But I feel like not going to his marriage would be a slight.”
“That’s if he’s really getting married,” Soren countered.
Norah sighed. She didn’t know what to believe. “I do think Phillip has shown himself to be a friend. He gave me forces to defend Mercia against the attacks on our villages—”
“In exchange for Bahoul,” he countered, “which he’d already taken, by the way.”
“He warned Mikael to close his ports, which saved Kharav from fever.”
He tilted his head. “Yes, people are capable of doing nice things while still having an agenda.”
“Then why would he defend Kharav against Rael?”
“If he’s also facing war with Japheth and Rael, he has a joint interest in Kharav not falling.”
She shook her head. “Soren, any one of these individually, I agree with you. But together, they’re compelling. Phillip presents himself as a friend, and I believe him. I think I should attend the wedding. And I want to see him—meet him face-to-face. I’ll determine if this is truly an alliance we can trust.”
“That’s the worst idea you’ve had yet,” he insisted.
She shrugged. “Well, I’m still going.”
His jaw tightened. “Then I’m going with you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Take him, Norah,” Catherine said. “He might be a fiend, but he’s a fiend that will see you safe. I don’t doubt Phillip’s intentions, but I do fear your journey, and would see you back to Mercia as quickly as possible.”
Norah shifted her eyes between the both of them, then sighed. “Fine. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
Chapter seventeen
Thelateafternoonsungleamed off the bright city of Valour, the capital of Aleon. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The architecture shone white, like Mercia, but rather than the tall spires and turrets of the Northern kingdom, Valour was topped with patinated copper domes. And unlike Mercia, green scapes and fountains layered the city, creating a garden paradise. Autumn hung in the air, but there was no sign of winter yet.
The journey had been uneventful. Norah supposed that was the best kind of journey, although she would have given anything to keep her roaming mind from the worries of Mikael and Rael. And from Alexander, whose being still haunted her. Her only relief—and it was a painful relief—had been the distraction of Soren’s unending attempts to talk her out of going to Phillip’s wedding. She didn’t think it was possible, but he talked more than Calla along the way. Calla took Soren’s side, only fueling him more. Norah almost wished she’d left the girl back with Cohen and Catherine. Her grandmother had already taken to the siblings, pecking them around the castle like her new adoptees.
But Norah wouldn’t be talked out of this. She needed to go—this, she was certain, although it didn’t settle the gnawing angst in her stomach.
She wished she remembered Phillip. Would it make this easier? Of course it would, she told herself. Did they have a friendship? His letter sounded like they did. How well did he know her? She wasn’t sure if she’d tell him about the loss of her memories. Would he know something was different now? She’d have to determine all that when she arrived.
Bells chimed with their entry through the gates, and they rode down the mainway toward the center citadel. The Crest rode close to her in tight formation, but nothing seemed sinister—quite the opposite. People lined the street, throwing flower petals into the air.
“Quite the welcome,” Calla said.
Norah raised a brow to Soren riding beside her. “Do they know who I am? Do you think they’ve confused me with the princess of Osan?”
“If they think the princess of Osan rides with the Destroyer under the flags of the North, you’re lucky you didn’t marry the Aleon king and have to rule these idiots.”
She couldn’t help a laugh.
“But really, I think they see a beautiful queen worthy of a rose-petal welcome,” he added.
She looked over at him with a smile on her lips. “I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m already regretting it.”
As they neared the citadel, an entourage emerged and made their way down the steps, led by a man that could be no other than Phillip, king of Aleon. He was a tall man, lean but well muscled, which was apparent even through a tunic and vest.
