Just then, the door swung open with a boom as Soren pushed inside. Everyone stopped abruptly, and his mother turned to him with a scowl. “Has he no restraint?” she seethed.
Mikael looked at Soren with a disapproving eye, but he knew his commander wouldn’t interrupt without reason. “Leave us,” he told the tailors, which no doubt would run afoul with his mother.
“You can’t be serious,” she argued. “You’re right in the middle of a fitting.”
“I’ll finish it later.”
His mother cut Soren a daggered look, and then she stormed from the room, followed by the cluster of tailors.
“The Northmen have come,” Soren said as the door closed behind them, completely unfazed by his mother’s annoyance.
Mikael pulled off the half-pinned swath of fabric and laid it over the side chair before donning his sleeveless tunic again. “As we expected,” he said, and he tucked his tunic back into his breeches. This news wasn’t worth his mother’s ire. He did wish for Soren to try harder to please her sometimes.
“The—”
Mikael cut him off. “Have you dealt with the old man?”
Soren stopped and gave a stiff nod.
“I don’t expect that to happen again,” he warned. “You’ve offended the queen.”
Soren snorted.
“You’ve offended me,” Mikael said angrily, and Soren stiffened.
His commander said nothing. He struggled personally with the North Queen, and Mikael sympathized, but he couldn’t tolerate this behavior toward his salara.
Mikael moved to leave, but Soren caught his arm. “Salar, the Northmen—the Bear will be with them.”
Mikael stopped. Now this he hadn’t expected. His chest tightened. “You’ve seen him?”
Soren shook his head. “No, but I know he’s here.”
He let out a long breath with a clenched jaw. Having the Bear in Kharav would be problematic. “Where?”
“They’re unloading their wagons and settling into the soldiers’ quarters now. Then they go to present themselves to the queen in the throne room.”
Mikael slammed his fist on the desk, spilling a bottle of ink.
“I’ll take the Crest and head them off,” Soren told him. “I’ll bring him to you.”
“No,” Mikael said stiffly.
His commander let out an angry breath. “His charge was to return to the North. The agreement’s been broken. Let me take him.”
“Does she know he’s here?” Mikael asked.
“The North Queen?” Soren shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s not revealed himself.”
“But you’re sure he’s come? Because that would be very foolish of him.”
Soren’s eyes blazed. “I’m certain.”
Mikael pulsed with the want for blood. “Then let’s go to the throne room.”
His sword slid smoothly out of its scabbard as he checked it. He might need it. Alexander had found it easier than expected to slip into the Shadowlands hidden among the Northmen. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised. Few knew what he looked like out of his signature armor. That worked in his favor. Alexander doubted he’d have made it a single step past the border had the enemy known who he was. They’d have had his head if they’d known he’d been the one to kill so many when they’d tried to retake the mountains of Bahoul the year prior. He’d left a scar on the face of their king, and he’d be the one to kill him.
He would kill the Shadow King.
Maybe he’d been foolish to come, but he couldn’t not. Not when Norah was here, unprotected. Adrian had wanted to come, too, but it was too dangerous. With the Shadowmen, anyone Alexander loved would be a target. Especially his brother.
Alexander didn’t fear his own death in the Shadowlands, at least not until he fulfilled the vision, but he still came under the guise of a regular Mercian soldier. He didn’t want to be deterred or taken before he could see Norah and make sure she was all right.
He’d come as quickly as he could after returning the army to Mercia. He’d broken off from the travel company with a smaller group to go even faster. Caspian followed with more of Norah’s belongings and more men—things that would hopefully bring her comfort in the hold of their enemy until he could get her out.
“Are you ready?” Titus asked him.
Alexander smiled at the seasoned guard and pulled on his helm. “Lead the way.” And he followed Titus as a normal soldier would.
Norah was surprised to find the king and his brute in the throne room when she arrived. Mikael stood, armored—which seemed a little excessive. The commander’s face was covered. She’d gotten used to seeing him around the castle without his wrap and had almost forgotten how monstrous he looked with only his eyes showing. He was dressed for battle in usual Shadow form—nothing covering the markings on his chest and torso except his weapons’ strappings, and he wore only light armor over his breeches on his knees and the shins of his boots.
She desperately wanted to ask Mikael about Bremhad, but she didn’t dare with an audience and with whatever was happening here with this display.
The ranks of the Crest guards lined the sides of the room, and the commander stood beside the king’s chair, his axe in hand. It was quite a strong response to several Northmen, she mused.
The king greeted her with a small bow of his head. “North Queen,” he said, holding his hand out to the throne beside his. “Please.”
She hadn’t expected to sit on the queen’s throne before she was crowned salara, but she took her seat beside him.
He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t understand. “We’ve not said our vows yet, but you are my salara. You still make this commitment to me, yes?”
What an odd question. He seemed to be deciding something in his mind. “Of course,” she told him, and he gave her a small nod.
The doors swung open, and a small army of her Northmen entered the hall. Norah couldn’t help the smile that came to her face when she recognized the bald head in the front.
“Titus!” she said, standing and stepping forward. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
He bowed. “Queen Norah. I’m glad to see you well.”
“How was the journey?”
“It was uneventful—the best kind. And everyone is well, as I hope you are.”
Her smile widened. “I am, and very glad to see a familiar face.”
“Not just one familiar face, Regal High,” he said as he stepped to the side. Another large soldier came forward, removing his helm.
Norah let out a gasp, and the world stood still as blue eyes smiled back at her—eyes that were never far from her mind.
Alexander.
But the happiness lasted only a moment, then came the fear—a crippling, sickening fear. “What are you doing here?” she breathed.
“Norah,” he said softly.
She felt Mikael behind her. His voice came low and cold. “You have a guest.”
She glanced back to see he’d risen from his chair and had his hand on the hilt of his sword, with the commander beside him.
“Yes,” she said shakily, desperately searching her mind for how to keep the calm. “I’d like to present—”