Free The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm by Christie Golden Page A

romance with Arthas Menethil had not been forgotten—not when he was prince, certainly not when he was the Lich King, and not now that he had been defeated. It was because of him that this sad ceremony was even necessary. A few heads turned her way, recognizing her, and giving her sympathetic glances.
    Not a day went by that Jaina did not think of him, wondering if there was anything she could have done, anything she could have said, to have turned the once-bright paladin from his dark path. Her feelings had been turned against her during the War Against the Nightmare, trapping her in a dream in which she had indeed prevented him from becoming the Lich King … by becoming the Lich Queen herself in his stead. …
    She shivered, forcing thoughts of that horrible dream away, and turned her attention back to the archbishop. “… the frozen lands far to the north,” Benedictus was saying. “They faced a terrible foe with an army that no one ever truly thought we would be able to defeat. And yet, thanks to the blessing of the Light and the simple courage of these men and women—humans, dwarves, night elves,gnomes, draenei; yes, and even the members of the Horde as well—we are safe in our homeland again. The numbers are staggering, and more reports come in every day. To give you an idea of the estimated losses, each worshipper here today has been given a candle. Each candle represents not one, not ten … but
one hundred
Alliance lives lost in the Northrend campaign.”
    Jaina felt the breath go out of her and she stared at the unlit candle, clasped in a hand that suddenly started shaking. She looked around … there had to be at least two hundred people in the cathedral, and she knew that others were gathering outside, wanting to participate in the remembrance ceremony even though the cathedral was filled to capacity. Twenty, thirty—perhaps forty or fifty thousand people … dead. She closed her eyes for a moment and turned back to the archbishop, painfully aware that the gnome couple next to her was staring at her and whispering something.
    When she heard raised voices and startled gasps from the back of the cathedral, it was almost a relief. She turned and saw two weather-beaten Sentinels talking animatedly with the two priestesses. Even as she rose and tried to exit quietly, she saw Varian already on the move.
    The human priestess, apparently against the wishes of the dwarf, who looked put out, was steering the two Sentinels into a room on the left-hand side. Jaina hastened to join them. Even as she walked through the entrance to the room, Varian joined her. There was no time for greetings, but the two exchanged acknowledging glances.
    Varian turned to the paladins who had also moved to join them. “Lord Grayson,” he said to the tall man with black hair and an eye patch, “get these soldiers some food and drink.”
    “Aye, sir,” the paladin said, hastening off to do so himself. Such was the attitude of paladins; any service, however humble, that helped another was of the Light.
    “Please, sit,” Varian said.
    The taller of the two night elves, a purple-skinned woman with white hair, shook her head. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but this is nopleasure errand. We come with dire news and stand ready to report back as soon as possible.”
    Varian nodded, tensing slightly. “Then deliver your news.”
    She nodded. “I am Sentinel Valarya Riverrun. This is Sentinel Ayli Leafwhisper. We come with reports of attacks by the Horde in Ashenvale. The treaty has been violated.”
    Jaina and Varian exchanged glances. “We knew when we signed the agreement that there would be a few holdouts, on both sides,” Jaina said hesitantly. “The borders have long been a source of—”
    “I would not be here if this were a
skirmish,
Lady Jaina Proudmoore,” Valarya said icily. “We were not born yesterday. We know to expect the occasional row. This was not such a thing. This was a
slaughter.
A slaughter, when the Horde claims