Norah escaped out into the hall to see her Crest guard, wide-eyed and debating whether to follow her or answer the king’s thunder.
“Are you not my guard?” she snapped, and they fell into place behind her as she hurried to her sanctuary.
His bellows echoed through the halls, and her pulse raced. Her fingers fumbled to latch the door, although there was no way it would hold him out. She sank down into the chair by her vanity, gripping the back until her knuckles turned white.
“Salara!” His roar shook her to her core. He was coming.
She forced herself to breathe, struggling for calm. He’d said she never needed to fear him, but that was before she’d hit him with a water basin and threatened to deny their marriage. Would he hurt her? Her mind raced for how to temper his anger. Perhaps if she apologized… No. She’d done nothing wrong. And she’d meant it when she said she’d be his only wife. If he thought he’d force her otherwise, she had another water basin waiting.
“Salara!” he bellowed, nearer now. He sounded near the end of the hall; he’d be at the door in a moment.
She gripped the chair tighter, crouching slightly, and braced herself.
“Come out, woman!”
Oddly, his voice sounded the same distance away.
“Salara!”
She swallowed. Had he stopped at the end of the hall? He’d told her that was the boundary, but surely in his anger he wouldn’t confine himself to a mere verbal threshold.
“Come out!”
She most certainly would not be coming out.
“You can’t claim sanctuary from me in the room that I gave you out of my goodwill!”
That was exactly what she intended to do.
“Come out!”
She stared at the door, not daring to move.
The hall grew silent.
She waited.
Had he gone? It remained silent.
Her breaths calmed as the moments passed, but her body still shook. He could have forced her out. Why hadn’t he? She turned slowly to the vanity. Her hands trembled as she brushed back her hair from her face. What was she going to do now?
Mikael showed no intent of dissolving his other marriages. Mercia wouldn’t recognize a marriage where she wasn’t the only wife, and neither would she. What was worse, she’d already given herself to him. She’d naively thought she meant something to him. Tears threatened, but she clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t let him reduce her to this.
Chapter forty-five
Mikael sat at the table and took a long drink of wine. It had been two days since the wedding, and there was only one thing on his mind, one thing that tormented him. He looked at Salara’s empty chair.
“I thought she might come this evening,” he confessed. He shifted his eyes to Soren, who stabbed a chunk of meat with his knife and put it in his mouth.
Soren snorted.
Mikael rested his elbows on the edge of the table and ran his fingers over the scabbed stitching along his brow. “How long do you think she’ll stay angry?”
Soren shrugged as he chewed his food. “As long as you have wives.” He chuckled as he took a drink from his blood bowl. “Let her.”
Mikael’s anger stirred. Soren was of little help in these matters. “She said she refuses to acknowledge our marriage.”
Soren snorted again. “Did she not see the thousands there to witness it?”
His irritation grew. He wasn’t in the mood for Soren’s sarcasm. “If she denies me, so will the North, marriage or no.”
His commander gave a wry smile. “What’s really lost, though? You still hold the queen within your walls. Better now—you have the Bear.”
“I don’t want the Bear!” Mikael snapped as he slammed his fist down onto the table, rattling the plates.
Soren’s face sobered.
Mikael’s words surprised even himself. They weren’t entirely true. He did want the Bear. He wanted his head. He wanted to gaze into his dead eyes and spit into the face of fate. But there was something he wanted more now.
He sat back in his chair. He had to do something. “I could make her my only wife.”
Soren straightened, and the line along his jaw tightened. “Careful, brother,” he warned. “You’d offend three of the most powerful lords in your kingdom. That wouldn’t be without consequence.”
But how likely would they be to act?
Soren leaned toward him, his eyes dark and serious. “Don’t do something stupid.”
Mikael sighed. Soren was right. That would be stupid. “Have you heard anything from Salara?” he asked the servant who poured him more wine.
The servant bowed his head. “She said she’s not hungry this evening.”
Mikael swore. He knew that was a lie; that woman ate more than he did.
“She’ll need to eat eventually,” Soren rumbled.
Mikael ignored him. “Have meals left outside her door,” he told the servant.
Soren cut him an annoyed glance. “That only aids her in hiding away.”
Mikael looked at the servant. “Do as I say.”
“Yes, Salar,” the servant said with a bow.
Mikael crossed his arms and brought the knuckles of his fist to his lips. What was he going to do?
“She’ll get over it,” his commander told him. “She just needs time to learn how things are here.”
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Norah woke on the settee in her sanctuary to the sound of a knock on the door. Her book had fallen to the floor. She was surprised she’d drifted to sleep. The knock came again, stronger this time. There was a man behind it, and she shuddered. Mikael had finally come, but she still wasn’t ready to face him.
The knock came louder, forceful now. “North Queen,” a voice snarled.
It wasn’t Mikael. Her pulse quickened. It was his brute. Mikael might have shown restraint, but the lord commander had none. She rose and walked to the door but didn’t open it.
“I know you hear me,” his voice rumbled.
She did hear him, and his hatred. And she knew he wouldn’t leave simply because she didn’t answer.
“You doubt I’ll break down this door?”
She most certainly didn’t. Norah lifted the latch and pulled the door open a small crack. His eyes met hers with smoldering animosity. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.
“I suggest you very quickly get over this foolishness. Salar has no time for these games.”
“This isn’t a game,” she snapped.
“I caution you. It’s unwise for you to press this, North Queen. You’re held deep within Kharav.” He paused, and then added, “As is your Bear.”
Prickles rose over her skin. He was threatening her.
“It would be a shame if someone were to get hurt,” he said.
“Mikael wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t he?” he challenged. “You have no idea who he is, or what he’ll do. There’s only one will, and that’s the will of Salar. You’re a fool to think you have any power over him. And you’ll be done with this nonsense, now.”
With that, the commander turned and left her to the lingering warning of his words.
She didn’t want to believe him, but now she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know Mikael as well as she thought she had. Did he see all this as nonsense? How long would he let her avoid him? She couldn’t stay in the sanctuary forever.