“Where you were captured when you fled Bahoul?”
He nodded. “They sympathized with Aleon. They were enamored by the charm of the empire and Aleon’s riches. Their king, Jaiah, planned to send his daughter with the offer of marriage, along with the gift of my heart cut from my body.”
Her skin prickled.
“They cut open my chest…” His words drifted as he looked out across the hills from the balcony. “But they underestimated Soren.” He paused. “I don’t remember how we made it out. I don’t remember fleeing to the canyons. Only that he got us out and brought me home.”
Her breaths came unsteadily.
“After my coronation,” he continued, “I appointed Soren as my lord commander, and he gave me my first gift as salar—the kingdom of those who’d sought my death.”
Norah remembered the story her grandmother had told her about the destruction of Aviron. If only Mercia knew what had really happened. She turned away, trying to gather her thoughts. Vengeance was never a defense of one’s actions, but things weren’t always as they seemed. These stories she’d been told, the stories that drove fear into so many, they weren’t the truth. At least, not entirely. And she had the power to change everything.
But regardless of the circumstance, she couldn’t condone this devastation. “If we’re to wed, I’ll defend only,” she heard herself say, looking back at him. “Mercia won’t invade another kingdom for you. I won’t have this… all this destruction.”
He gave a slight nod.
“My people will have food and horses and weapons,” she added.
He stepped closer to her. “All that is mine will be yours. Everything and everyone.” There was a weight to his tone, one of assurance. He was committing to her. “And all that is yours will be mine,” he added.
“Except Alexander,” she said firmly.
He sighed, yielding. “I accept these terms.”
Norah’s heart beat in her throat.
“Are we betrothed then?” he asked.
The circumstances were suddenly very real.
“I suppose we are,” she replied, as the weight of sadness shrouded her heart.
Chapter thirty-three
The journey toward Kharav seemed endless. Mikael let her ride the mare of the Wild freely, to her surprise. She followed the king as they made their way through the rocky hills. The commander was quiet, somber. No doubt the news of their marriage weighed on his mind. Norah almost felt sympathy for him.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, something felt off. “We’re heading west?” she asked.
“Your army draws closer,” he told her. “We go to meet them.”
“They’re not behind us?”
“No. They didn’t march for Bahoul. They will come directly through the Tribelands.”
The realization hit her. He had relented too easily in trying to take back Bahoul. Now she understood. He had discovered her army wasn’t headed there. That had been his change in plans.
Her heart raced in her chest. Alexander was close. She wasn’t sure she believed the king’s promise not to take him, not to harm him. There was nothing at all that prevented a battle, only the words spoken between them.
“What will happen when we meet them?” she asked nervously.
He looked at her calmly. “Announce our marriage and send them home.”
“Right,” she breathed, feeling the slightest of reassurance. But her mind wandered to Alexander again, and her anxiousness returned. She didn’t know how she’d tell him she was marrying the Shadow King. Would he understand? Would her people understand?
“How is it you can ride her?” the king asked, bringing her mind back to him. “How can you ride a horse of the Wild?” His question caught the commander’s attention as well.
Norah looked down at the animal and shook her head. “I don’t know. I think she understands me somehow.” It was a mystery to her as well, but there was something different about the mare—they had a connection… like she’d had with the fox when she was lost in the forest.
He raised a brow and looked at the commander, and they rode on. Norah still didn’t understand the significance of the mare. Her mind had been so consumed with Alexander and her army that she hadn’t given it enough reflection. This was a special animal. Perhaps if she had her memories, she’d know why.
The journey was quiet, and Norah found the time blurred as she lost herself in her thoughts. They were tormenting thoughts—Alexander’s face when she’d tell him she was to wed the Shadow King, how she’d leave him to return to the Shadowlands. Each hour weakened her resolve.
She shivered against the winter air and pulled the hood of her cloak forward, trying to find some warmth. Just then, in the distance, Norah spotted movement. She squinted her eyes against the wind.
Horses.
Riders.
Moving quickly toward them.
They drew closer, and her pulse raced. A sword gleamed in the air, held high by the lead rider. They were attacking.
“Mikael!” she called, pulling the mare back.
Norah’s chest tightened. She didn’t even have a weapon. The Shadow King sat quietly on his horse in front of her. He raised his fingers slightly to calm her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the advancing Horsemen, feeling panic well within her. But Mikael seemed indifferent, and Norah forced herself calm. While she considered herself to be ill fated in marrying him, she did trust he’d keep her safe.
The commander slid off his mount and pulled out his axe. She looked at the other soldiers and noted that they hadn’t taken up their arms. But the commander stood, wielding his axe, and waited.
A shrill scream sounded from the lead Horseman, and Norah realized it was a woman. The woman’s horse bore down on the commander with a thunder. Just before she reached him, she leapt from her mount and met his blade with her own. The clash rang through the air as she hit the ground and tucked into a roll, leaping up and turning to meet him again. The rest of the Horsemen fanned out to either side, surrounding them.
The woman fought him back with a fury, and Norah was mesmerized. She was clothed in soft leather and furs, fitted to her form. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in braids, and black markings lined her eyes. She bared her teeth as she exchanged blows with the commander, but there was a hint of a devilish smile—she was enjoying the fight.
She swung high, and he met her blade with his axe, striking it down with a force and pushing her backward. The woman pulled her sword back quickly, slicing into the flesh of his arm and drawing blood. She moved to attack again, but he spun and delivered a blow to her side. She countered with an elbow and caught him on the brow. The commander reached out and grabbed her, sweeping his leg under her and taking her to the ground. She loosed another elbow to his shoulder, and he winced. Pinning her with his weight, he looked at her to yield. Instead, she ripped down the wrap from his face and drew him down into a deep kiss.
Norah gasped, not fully understanding what was happening. The commander broke away in surprise and disgust, releasing the woman. She flashed a fiendish smile and rose, pulling her sword from the ground. “You’re losing your edge, Soren,” she goaded him, eyeing his arm. She stepped forward, looking closer at him. “Or perhaps you’re still recovering from whoever gave you that look.” She grinned, nodding at the bruising on his face.