Page 84 of War Queen
She desperately missed Mikael. He would have believed her.
A servant entered the dining hall. “Regal High, this arrived for you,” he said as he held out a crimson, fabric-wrapped box for her.
Norah glanced at Catherine and Soren. Who would have sent her something? Soren’s eyes narrowed, annoyed. At least it was a distraction to break the tension. She took the box and set it on the table in front of her before pulling the thick satin ribbon from around it.
But on lifting the lid, she rose with a start.
Soren stood abruptly. “What is it?” he asked.
But Norah couldn’t speak. She could only stare at the box in front of her. Inside of it was a smaller box—a navy velvet box.
But she didn’t open it. She couldn’t. If the crown was inside, Alexander wouldn’t have just given it to her in the vision, but in life as well. How? How had he found it? And how had he sent it to her?
Soren moved to her side. Norah stepped back as he reached in and pulled out the velvet box. Catherine rose.
He opened it. And pulled out her mother’s crown.
Catherine gasped, and Norah’s own breath shook.
“The bastard’s had it this entire time,” he said.
Norah shook her head. “No, Alexander would have given it to me sooner if he’d had it. He must have found it.”
He clenched the crown in his hand. “I’m telling you it wasn’t to be found. It wasn’t lost. He had it.”
Just because Soren couldn’t find the crown didn’t mean Alexander couldn’t.
He bared his teeth, his anger growing. “Salara, this didn’t come from the Bear.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I watched him die!” he thundered. “I saw him gutted, the blood run out of him, and I watched him die! And I sealed him in that sarcophagus myself. Even if by some miracle he wasn’t dead when I put him in, he’s certainly dead and rotting now.” His words and his tone were like knives—angry, searing knives.
Her lip trembled. “Get out,” she whispered.
He let out a long breath as his shoulders dropped. His face sobered, and he shook his head apologetically. “Salara,” he said softly.
“Get out!” she cried.
He hesitated a moment, then gave a small nod. Leaving the crown on the table beside the box, he stepped from the dining room.
Norah’s eyes found Catherine’s.
Her grandmother opened her mouth.
“Don’t,” Norah warned. She was in no mood to argue about this any longer. She would find out what was happening herself.
Soren beat on the thick oaken door. There was no answer, and he beat again. He knew she was in there. He wouldn’t let her avoid him, even ifhewanted to avoidher.
Finally, the door swung open, and the grandmother stood with a scathing scowl.
“By the gods, fiend, what’s the matter with you?” she snapped at him. “Must you beat down the door?”
Irritation rumbled in his chest. “You weren’t answering.”
“I was walking to answer!”
“Too slowly.”
