Page 73 of War Queen
“Me too,” she whispered.
“Do you regret things now?” he asked. “Not marrying him?”
Her lip trembled. It was the question that she feared asking herself. One that she’d avoided asking, but one she couldn’t keep avoiding. “What kind of person would I be if I said I wouldn’t change my choice to wed Mikael?” She covered her face in her hands.
Soren sighed. “It doesn’t mean you would have chosen the Bear’s fate, or that you wanted it for him.”
She sniffed and looked up at him. Sometimes Soren was a beautiful person.
“In fact,” he added, “even if your arrangement would have played out, he still would have died. I would have killed him. More horribly.”
And the beauty rapidly left. She shook her head and grimaced. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Stop,” she whispered.
“Okay.”
It grew quiet between them again.
“Is the Aleon king with his love now?” he asked. “Is that why the princess of Osan departed?”
She pulled herself from her emotion and wiped her cheeks. “They made the same arrangement, yes. But Phillip’s love is gone too. He died when taking Tarsus.”
Soren’s weight shifted back, as surprised at Phillip’s news as she had been, she was sure.
Norah let out a breath. “But now he’s making a valiant effort to bring together our three kingdoms in friendship, and I really want that. So, you’ll go hunting tomorrow morning, and not bring back a dead king of Aleon.”
He stared at her a moment, as if about to say something, then stopped.
“Will you go?” she asked. “Please?”
A protest rumbled from his chest.
“Please, Soren?”
Finally, he nodded. “Fine.”
She gave a tired smile. “Thank you.”
Soren sat on his destrier, struggling against the impatience twisting through him—he had thoughtSalartook too long departing places. Curse the North gods. They could have been well on the hunt by now, but this Aleon king took an eternity. And this man defined hunting as riding along with an army of men and a pack of noisy dogs. What was this madness?
“Are you ready?” the Aleon king asked him as he finally mounted his horse.
Was he serious? Soren cursed under his breath again. He should have made Caspian come. At least then he’d have someone else to witness this lunacy. And to complain to. Or Calla. He cursed himself again. He’d have loved to see his farm girl outshoot these cowards. But this was better, he supposed. If he wasn’t with Salara, he wanted people he trusted with her.
They urged their mounts through the gates, toward the forested hills, surrounded by hound vocals that could surely be heard across the four kingdoms.
Soren let the Aleon king lead, silently judging him from behind.
The lands of Aleon were breathtaking, much like the capital city. Everything seemed perfect. They passed a grove of autumn-laden aspens that made Soren want to stop and stare, but he pushed himself on. Over dreams of rolling hills they rode, then through wheaten grass so tall it brushed the calves of his boots. When they reached the edge of the pine forest, the Aleon king grinned back at him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Of course it was beautiful—the curse of this place. It could draw a man in, make him not want to leave. But Soren wanted to leave.
The hounds let out a series of howling barks and raced deeper ahead, into the wood.
“They’ve got a scent!” Phillip called out, and they all kicked their mounts into a gallop to follow.
