Page 126 of North Queen
Norah worked the soap into a rich lather and rubbed it into her skin. It smelled like springtime. She hated that she liked it. The water changed color as the soil came off, and she was surprised at how dirty she’d been.
She wanted to stay in the bath, soaking in its warmth, but she didn’t want the king’s mother to return with her unready. Quickly, she finished washing and climbed out, drying off and slipping into the linen gown. She shivered. Castles were cold. Especially enemy castles.
Chapter thirty-seven
Thesunsetonher first day in the Shadowlands, and Norah fought to keep control of her emotions. Her duty had been to free Mercia from the darkness of the Shadow King, but here she was, marrying him and joining their kingdoms together. Her stomach turned at the thought of her grandmother receiving her letter. She’d understand. She’d see this was what was best for Mercia and her people. Wouldn’t she?
But Norah couldn’t escape the nagging fear that wasn’t how her marriage would be seen, and she would be doing all this for nothing. The thought threatened to break her. She forced her mind to focus on one task at a time. Bathe. Dress. Breathe.
There was a knock on her chamber door and the king’s mother swept into the room before she could answer, with a maid close behind. Very Catherinesque. A pang of homesickness struck her. What she wouldn’t give to see her grandmother right now.
“I’ve brought several dresses,” the woman told her. “We should find at least one that fits for this evening.”
Without a word, the maid shuffled Norah in front of the mirror and lifted a yellow dress against her form.
The king’s mother looked at it in the mirror’s reflection. “No,” she said, and the maid laid it aside on the bed.
The maid held a green dress, and the woman again shook her head. Norah swallowed. She would have been fine with either of the dresses.
The maid held up a third dress—burgundy with heavy embroidery down the center.
“That will do,” she said.
Despite the woman’s coldness, the marked reminder of Catherine brought emotion to Norah’s eyes. She forced it back.
The maid helped her into the dress. “It fits well,” she said as she moved to Norah’s back and tied the straps. “Your being the same size as the princess makes it easier.”
Norah glanced up at the king’s mother. “You have a daughter?” Her heart leapt at the thought of another young woman in the castle—perhaps someone like her.
The woman glared at the maid, who continued working in silence. “I did,” she said shortly.
Norah’s heart broke for her. The woman had lost a daughter. She didn’t know what to say, or whether to offer her condolences. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
The room was silent. That made it worse.
“What should I call you?” Norah asked her, changing the subject. “Do you have a title here in the Shadowlands?”
The woman looked at her with eyes of black sapphire. For a moment, Norah thought she wouldn’t answer.
“My name is Analil. In Kharavian tongue, as this is Kharav,notthe Shadowlands, I am called Salara-Mae, if you wish.”
It wasn’t her intent to so quickly offend her future mother-in-law. She gave a small nod. “Forgive me, Salara-Mae. And thank you for your counsel. Kharav it is.”
After dressing, Norah followed Salara-Mae down the stairs, through the great hall, and into a large dining room, and her eyes widened at the expansive table. The king sat at the end, with the commander seated to his left. The king looked up as she entered, pausing in his conversation, and straightened. Their eyes locked. He’d washed too. His hair was tied back, and his beard trimmed short, almost to the skin. Without his armor, he wore a sleeveless tunic, prominently displaying the ink markings down his arms and just below his neck. Heat flushed across her cheeks. He looked… very nice.
She realized the commander looked different as well. He’d forgone his wrap and was openly showing his head and face. His hair was tied back like the king’s. He wore a tunic similar to Mikael’s, which was better than his normal form of none at all. At first glance, he looked very much like the king, although he was certainlynotlike the king. And he looked…notnice.
A chilling snarl came from her right, and Norah gasped as two beasts crouched low, ready to attack. Their heads and frames were like enormous wolves, but they weren’t wolves. Their necks and chests were thick and maned in dark fur, but their backs sloped to a smaller, thick-muscled hind, like they were built for fighting.
Salara-Mae glared at Mikael. “Control your dogs,” she snapped angrily.
The king’s eyes drifted to his lord commander, who called over his shoulder, “Cusco. Cavaatsa.” The beasts settled back to lie on the floor.
“Forgive us,” Salara-Mae said to Norah, eyeing the commander sharply. “We’ve had very few guests for some of us to hone our manners. But as youareour guest, please,” and she waved Norah to the end of the table, opposite Mikael.
Norah glanced at him, uncomfortable with his mother’s unawareness of their betrothal, but she gave a nod and sat gracefully. When would he tell her?
A young woman pulled fruit and meat from the platters and filled her plate. Norah watched her, noting her soft brown hair. She was different from the people in Kharav. Catherine had told her Kharav took people as slaves. Was this woman a slave?
