She noticed a scar that ran half the length of his collarbone and then curved sharply over his chest. The price of his pact with evil, her grandmother had said, was his heart. She reached out and drew her fingers across it. Then she spread her hand wide, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. Under her palm, his heart beat slow and rhythmic. She smiled to herself. How funny the human mind could be, what it could imagine and what it could believe. Her eyes traveled over the inked markings across his chest and torso: bold lines in intricate patterns. She traced her fingertips over them. His skin was smooth. And warm.
A scabbed wound on the inside of his arm, just above his wrist, caught her eye. It was where she’d cut him in their fight at the base of Bahoul. She brushed over it; it was healing quickly. His hand turned upward on its own, offering more of his forearm and startling her. She drew her gaze up, and it locked with his.
His eyes pierced her, and her heart rose in her throat. How long had he been watching her? The intensity of his stare was paralyzing.
“Is there water?” he asked.
She let out a breath of relief as his words broke his hold on her, and she could pull her eyes away. She nodded and retrieved a cup by the front of the tent. Kneeling beside him, she held it to his mouth, and he drank deeply. “Careful,” she told him.
He lay back when he was finished, looking up at her. “You’re still here,” he said weakly.
“I’m trying to remedy that,” she mumbled.
He stirred, trying to get up, but Norah put her hand firmly on his chest, pushing him back down. “No. You need to rest.”
The corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly, and she cursed herself. She didn’t care if he needed rest. She didn’t… she didn’t care.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It was the poison. It almost took you.”
His brow dipped as the memory came back to him. “We were at the manor.”
Norah nodded.
“And you brought me back?” he asked.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
He gave a small snort. “You could have run, escaped.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I said I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped. She was frustrated, at him, at herself.
He paused for a moment, then asked softly, “Tell me, why didn’t you let me die?”
“Because I don’t want you dead!” she replied angrily. “Why is everyone so intent on killing one another? All everyone talks about is war. What about peace?” She pushed out a breath as she shook her head, exasperated.
The king’s brows drew together in an expression that was hard for her to read.
Just then, the commander returned. He looked at the king, surprised to see him awake. Relief flashed across his face. Then he looked at Norah, and his eyes darkened. He spoke low and in the Shadow tongue. Mikael responded, and she could feel the commander’s anger. Whatever the king had told him displeased him. He cast Norah another dark look and then ducked back out of the tent.
“Get ready to travel,” Mikael told her. “We can’t stay here.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To friends.”
“What friends?”
He gave a labored chuckle. “You won’t like them.”
Her stomach felt heavy.
Outside, Norah found the commander readying his horse. It wasn’t as large as the previous destrier, but she watched him as he tightened the cinch of the saddle and then patted the beast’s shoulder. He paused when he heard her approach, but he didn’t turn to look at her. He was still without his head wrap, seeming even more like a man.
“I’m sure you’re relieved,” she said. “He’s going to be all right.”
He looped the horse’s reins back over its neck.
“Soren,” she started, “Mikael told me about your family. I didn’t realize—”
He spun and caught her by the neck, almost pulling her off her feet. “He is Salar,” he snarled, “and I am Lord Commander. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you know me—I am not a friend. I’ll use you to draw the Bear, then I’ll till our fields with the burnt bodies of your armies and savor a harvest grown in Mercia’s destruction. It’s this alone that keeps me from choking the life from you right now.”
Norah struggled for air, frightened by his sudden aggression. “I’m under the king’s protection,” she gasped.
He gave her a wicked smile. “He told you our story, yes? Then believe me when I say there is nothing I can do that Salar would not forgive.”
He pulled her closer, bringing his lips to her ear. “Nothing.”
Norah’s eyes widened, and she struggled against him. He released her, and she sank forward, gasping for breath.
His nostrils flared, and he gave her a merciless scowl. “Good day, North Queen,” he said stiffly, and left her in the cold of fear.
Norah sat on her horse, watching as the Shadowmen carefully laid their king into a makeshift haul. She knew exactly where they were going. A group of Horsemen waited as the army prepared to move. More than anything now, she needed to make her escape. But under the watchful eye of the commander, that would be impossible. Her hands weren’t bound anymore, but he’d tied the lead of her horse to his saddle. As the army moved out, they fell in behind the haul, where the king’s brute could keep his eye on the king and on her.
It was a long ride, and one that probably would force another change of plans, she expected. Her anxiousness grew at the thought of Alexander gaining ground on them. While meeting the Shadow army with the king down was the optimal time, she couldn’t say she hoped for it.
When they arrived at the Horsemen tribe, it was larger than Norah thought it would be. Adobe houses sat in large groupings around a central town square. They brought the king to a center house of mudstone and thatch, where they laid him on a large bed. Norah was quiet, watching all the activity as he was made comfortable—blankets were rolled out, food was brought in. Weakness slowed his movements, along with weariness from the travel. But his tired eyes found her.
“Eat,” he said.
“Why are we here?” she demanded. “Are these not the people who assaulted me and tried to kill you?”
“They didn’t know who they were attacking. The Horsemen tribes are friends of Kharav.” He paused, taking another labored breath. “And it wasn’t safe to camp where we were. Abilash will keep us until I can travel. Now eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” It was a total lie. She was near starved.
“You’ll need your strength.”
Norah scowled at him. Fine. She’d eat, but she’d be angry about it. She took a loaf of bread and a small cut of meat. “Who’s Abilash?”
He gave her a mischievous look. “A Horseman king. I think he’ll take a liking to you.” He smiled, and she could tell he was teasing her. “He’s looking for a wife.”
Norah gave a repulsed laugh. “I’m not to be had.”
“Because you’re betrothed to the Aleon king?”
His reminder of her marriage needled her. “Because I’ll marry who I deem worthy,” she snapped.