Page 65 of War Queen
Phillip held his arm out for Norah. “Shall we?”
Here we go, she thought. She glanced back at Soren with a scowl before accepting and letting Phillip lead her into the castle.
“I have to admit, I was starting to worry you might not make it, with the wedding in two days’ time,” Phillip told her as he led them through the high-arched halls dripping in golden sunlight. “But I’m grateful you’re here. The journey wasn’t too uncomfortable, I hope.”
“The journey was fine, thank you.” It really had been, despite its boredom. It had given her a chance to think, to question herself, to convince herself she was still sane, and to question herself again. And now she was here, in Aleon. It all felt so strange.
“How long will you stay?” he asked.
“Oh, um… a few days past the wedding, I suppose.” She glanced around them. “Is Princess Daiyona here?”
“She is, and I would love to introduce you.”
So it appeared therewasto be a wedding, and the princess was here. A relief.
“There is a pre-celebration dinner tomorrow evening,” he said, “although I’ll arrange something for us tonight.”
“No, that’s all right,” she said quickly. “It’s late, and I’m quite tired, actually. Tomorrow is perfect. It will give me some time to put myself back together and look somewhat presentable.”
He chuckled. “Norah.” His hand clasped warmly over hers on his arm. “It’s hard to imagine you any more beautiful than you are now.”
“Oh, he’s a charmer,” came Calla’s voice behind her.
Norah cut the girl a daggered glance to hush her. Calla shrugged innocently. Norah looked back at Phillip, whose lips held a smile. She feigned one of her own.
But it wasn’t lost on her that he called her by her name. And the way he held her hand. So casually. So freely. As if they were close.
Soren was up before the sun, unable to sleep, unable to quiet his mind. The Aleon king.The Aleon king. His skin burned with anger. He felt… betrayed, but no one had betrayed him. Deceived, but no one had deceived him. He didn’t know what he was feeling, only that he needed to get ahold of himself, of his anger. He needed to get his senses back.
He left Titus and Kiran at Salara’s door and headed out to have a look around, not bothering to take Caspian either. He didn’t want conversation. He hadn’t told the captain about Tahla and the child. And he wouldn’t. Not yet. He needed Caspian sharp and focused.
The morning light peeked over the horizon as he stepped out onto the polished cobblestone mainway. Salara had been impressed by the sight of the city. It was beautiful, he’d give her that, with its celestial gardens and utopian aura. Absolutely beautiful. And it made him even more angry.
The morning air was cool, but not cool enough to pull the heat radiating from his body. Why had he come here? To this entitled kingdom with this entitled king. This man was the enemy, not to be trusted. And if this king expected anything other than a fight, he’d be sorely disappointed.
He walked the mainway, toward what was clearly the war office and army sector of the city. Men of arms stopped and gave respectful bows of their heads as he passed.Bastards.Niceties wouldn’t win him over. He ignored them. Behind the war office, he found the sparring fields and training arena. Beautiful, like the city. Too beautiful. Too perfect. Not used enough, and empty now.
Soren ran his hand along the side of the weapons’ hold. The polished wood was smooth to the touch. He pulled open a locker to find a row of swords hanging in a perfect line. Running his finger down a blade, he snorted. Mercian steel. Of course. Kings would kill for a sword of Mercian steel, and Aleon had practice arms of it.
He turned his attention to the perfectly parallel posts lining the field and their colorful archery target markings. Fancy. But no matter. Aleon’s archers weren’t as good as his Northmen, or even as good as his Kharavian warriors. He cursed himself for leaving Calla back at the castle. His farm girl would show the shit out of these pretentious pricks.
Soren pulled the small battle-axe from his side and flung it down the field, burying it into one of the closer pole targets.Not bad.
“Impressive,” a voice called from behind him, and he whipped around to see a man approaching.
His pulse thrummed faster. It couldn’t be. But it was.
The Aleon king. No guard—unprotected. A careless decision.
“How are you with a sword?” the king asked with a friendly smile.
But Soren didn’t like friendly people. And he didn’t like Aleon kings.
“Are you up for a spar? It would be an honor to try my hand with the great Destroyer.”
Soren eyed the king. He wore only light armor. Pretty armor. Too pretty to have experienced the hardship of battle. And his invitation to test blades—anothercareless decision.
The king pulled his sword from its scabbard and swept his arms out with an amicable bow of his head. Soren could crucify him against the field rail like that. Perhaps he might. He pulled his own sword and looked around the field again. They were alone, and Soren stepped forward to the challenge.
