The Destroyer pulled up his massive battle-axe—a weapon Alexander had fought before, held by a monster he’d fought before.
Ten years of war. And this was the beginning of the end.
But just before Alexander reached them, Norah spun her horse in front of the Destroyer, putting herself between them. “Stop!” she cried out.
Alexander’s destrier came to a grinding halt, and the rest of the mounted soldiers swept around them in a circle. What was she doing? Confusion flooded him. “Norah! What’s the meaning of this?”
“Put down your sword!”
Alexander raised it higher, and his horse reared.
“Put down your sword!” she demanded again.
He pulled his destrier back in bewilderment, looking at Norah and then back to the Destroyer. He gave a quick glance at Titus, who sat ready to snatch her but paused in his own bewilderment.
“The lord commander comes under treaty,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s with me.” She shot the Destroyer a warning look, and he lowered his axe.
With her? “How?” Alexander seethed. He glanced back at the Shadow army on the ridge, then back to Norah.
“It’s not for us to discuss here.”
What did that mean? He looked at the carts behind her and pointed his sword at them. “What’s that?”
“Provisions,” she said, “for our soldiers. Let’s return to the army, and I’ll explain.”
“You negotiate with the Destroyer?” he asked icily. He pointed his sword at the monster. “Get off your horse,” he ordered him.
“He’ll do no such thing,” Norah snapped, taking him aback. “I’m queen, and I said put down your weapons. I won’t be made to explain myself as I suffer to avoid war. Draw back, Lord Justice, and let him pass!”
Her ferocity stunned him, and Alexander pulled his destrier back. Norah urged her horse toward the Mercian army with the Destroyer beside her. Alexander gave another look to Titus, who stared back at him wide-eyed, and he pressed his destrier to follow.
The Mercian archers still had their bows drawn. The Destroyer’s horse reared and let out a ghostly scream, but Norah called out to the army to stand down.
The Northmen looked at each other, as equally confused as Alexander, but they obeyed and parted for the carts and the Shadowmen delivering them. The Shadowmen pulled the carts to a stop and stood, waiting for their next command. Did Norah really command them?
“We’ll take them from here,” she said. “You can return.” The Shadowmen left to rejoin their army as the Northmen, including Alexander, watched in shock.
“What about him?” Alexander called, pointing his sword at the Destroyer.
She glanced at the monster, who sat silently, but he didn’t fool Alexander. There was still an evil within.
“He stays with me,” she said.
Alexander could only gape at her and grip his sword tighter.
They rode to the back of the army, up a small hill where a tent already stood, and dismounted. Alexander’s eyes searched Norah for answers. What was going on?
“There will be no battle,” she said abruptly. “Tell the men to rest and make camp.”
No battle? Rest? “It’s early still,” Alexander argued. “And what do you mean, there will be no battle?”
“I’ll stay here with you until tomorrow,” she replied. “And then you’ll return to Mercia.”
Return to Mercia? What?
She ducked into the tent, where the Northmen soldiers scrambled to arrange things for their queen. The Destroyer followed her in and stood to the side. Alexander stepped in behind them, glaring. He still couldn’t believe it—the commander of their greatest enemy stood mere steps away, and Norah acted as though he were a friend.
Alexander dropped his voice low. “Norah, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Leave us,” she said to the other soldiers inside, and they emptied the tent.
He glared at the Destroyer. “She said leave us.”
Norah shook her head. “He won’t go.”
“I’ll make him go.” Alexander stepped toward him.
She reached out and clasped his arm, stopping him. “No. He’s been ordered to stay.”
Ordered? “By whom?”
She swallowed. “By the Shadow King… to whom I am betrothed.”
Her words cut his heart from his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Betrothed. “Betrothed?” His shallow breaths came faster but still starved his lungs for air. “But you’re to marry the king of Aleon.”
“I’ve changed my mind.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
Alexander stepped backward. No. No. “You were to unite our kingdoms.” His eyes cut back to the Destroyer. “He’s the monster we’re fighting. You betray Mercia!”
“I am saving Mercia! Now there will be no war. No more death. The winter carries on, but our people will have food.”
“Aleon will give us the provisions we need.”
“But the Shadowlands will give us peace! Yes, Aleon can help us, but Phillip will bring another Great War with him.” She shook her head. “I have to do what is best for Mercia.”
“They will destroy us!” he seethed, with tears of rage in his eyes.
“They don’t want war.”
Alexander shook as he stepped in front of the Destroyer. “No? This one lusts for it,” he said between his teeth.
The monster eyed him from underneath the wrap around his face. Alexander bared his teeth. This was a beast of a man, but he wasn’t afraid. Only a coward would cover his face.
Norah stepped between them. “I need to write a letter to my grandmother,” she said. “And it will take me some time. Distribute the food to the army. There will be more tomorrow.”
“The army won’t eat food from the Shadowlands.”
“They will if you tell them to. Prepare for the journey back to Mercia.” Her voice broke again, and it threatened to break him as well. She didn’t want this. He had to find a way to stop it.
“Go,” she said.
But he couldn’t leave her. Not with this monster.
“Go!”
His face tightened in overwhelming bitterness, and it crushed him, but he obeyed and stormed out of the tent. He stopped just outside, pausing to suck in a deep breath and swallow back the bile rising in his throat.
Norah was to marry the Shadow King? No. That wasn’t going to happen.
He wouldn’t let it.
A low chuckle vibrated from the commander as he pulled the wrap down from his face and lowered the head of his battle-axe to rest on the ground.
Norah glared at him. “I’m sure you find this all very amusing.”
“Some of it,” he answered with a smirk.
“Ah, you found your tongue.”
She turned from him, but he caught her arm. “Return to Salar today.”
“What?” She pulled her arm away. “Why would I do that?”
“I know a desperate man when I see one.”
“Alexander’s not desperate,” she cut back. “He’s thinking about what this means for Mercia.”
“He’s thinking about you in his enemy’s bed.”