Page 147 of North Queen
Norah reached up and brought her hand to his face, and he turned his head into her palm to brush his lips against her thumb.
“Norah,” he begged her with cerulean eyes. “Let me take you away from here. We’ll leave. Tonight.”
“Where?” She shook her head. “Back to Mercia with nothing? To Aleon for another husband and war?”
“No,” he said hoarsely. “To the sea. Where the water is warm, and we can lie in the sun.”
Tears sprang from her own eyes now. The memory. Their plans. She wanted that more than anything.
But that life was gone.
“There is no sun,” she whispered.
He pulled her tighter and nestled into the fold of her neck. She wished they could stay like that forever. But they couldn’t. Her heart was breaking, and she couldn’t bear it. “You should go.”
His breath came uneven against her skin, then he stepped back and collected himself. “Yes, I’m sure the men are wondering where I am.”
“I meant back to Mercia.”
His brow creased, and he shook his head. “I won’t leave you.”
“It’s not safe for you here.”
“If this is the path you’ve chosen, it’s the path I follow.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Then he released her, leaving her broken in the center of her sanctuary.
Chapter forty-three
Norahwasalreadyawakewhen Vitalia entered. This was the day she’d feared, the day she’d so desperately wished would never come—the day of her marriage.
Her Mercian maid, Serene, followed Vitalia in. She’d arrived with the rest of the Northern company a few days after Alexander had. Vitalia was excited at the thought of another friend, and Norah was happy to have her, although she couldn’t muster feelings of happiness for long.
Her maids busied themselves around her, chatting excitedly, but Norah couldn’t hear them. Her heart beat heavily in her chest.Peace, she thought to herself. This was what peace looked like—no impending battle; her people were fed; Mercia stood strong. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her grandmother would come to realize this was best, as would the rest of Mercia.
Salara-Mae had overseen the making of her gown and additional details in the days before. She’d walked Norah through everything: the ceremony, the binding vow, the celebration after, and the expectations. All except the Witness.The Witness—the ceremony in the bedchamber that ensured the marriage was consummated, fully executed, and acknowledged by both sides. It was odd Salara-Mae said nothing of it, but Norah didn’t mind. She didn’t want to talk about it either. It was what she was most anxious about. To have an officiator observe such a private act between husband and wife—she didn’t think she could do it. Even when Catherine had explained the ceremony in preparation for her marriage to Aleon, the thought had overwhelmed her. Now, with the Shadow King… She tried to force it from her mind. She didn’t have a choice.
Norah didn’t know how the morning passed so quickly. Before she realized it, she was in her dress in front of the mirror, staring at a woman she barely recognized. Her white gown boasted the color of Mercia, as she’d wanted it to, or rather, as she thought was appropriate. Strands of shimmering silver were embroidered into the fabric, starting mid-skirt and running to the ground. It looked as though she had walked through a river of crystal. Norah wasn’t one for ornate adornments, but even she couldn’t deny the gown’s beauty. She had wanted simplicity, which she got, yet Salara-Mae had still made her look like a queen. Even Catherine would have approved. A sadness rippled through her at the thought of her grandmother, who wouldn’t be here to see her married.
She forced her attention back to the mirror, fearing her emotion would get the better of her. Diamonds studded her neck. It was a common stone, but she liked how they caught the light and was insistent on them over others more expensive. Her hair fell in loose waves around her, and a silver crown sat atop her head. She wished she had her mother’s crown, but she’d lost it when she was captured.
“You’re ready, Your Majesty,” Vitalia told her, smiling and looking at her reflection.
But she wasn’t ready.
Vitalia took her hands, pulling Norah to look at her. “This is it. This is where you become queen of both Mercia and Kharav and bring peace to your people. You’ll take your vows and complete the ceremony just as you rehearsed. And then you’ll be salara.”
Norah swallowed. Yes, just as she’d rehearsed. Then she’d be salara. She gave a nervous nod, and her maid held her hand as she led her to the great hall.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Vitalia. Her maid smiled and gave her hand another reassuring squeeze, then stole away to prepare.
Norah forced one foot in front of the other. She’d had plenty of time to accept this, she told herself, yet somehow, her mind was still in denial. Her thoughts shifted to Mikael. He wasn’t as she’d expected, and she wasn’t entirely appalled at the idea of him being her husband. He roused feelings in her that she had struggled to ignore—feelings that might be right for a wife to have for her husband.
But those thoughts came to a halt when she rounded the corner and saw Alexander.
His eyes moved down her dress and then back up. He looked at the crown on her head, and his lips parted, but he didn’t speak.
She reached up and touched the crown. “Salara-Mae had it made,” she started to explain. “I…” She didn’t know what to say. She what? Hoped he liked it?
Her gaze caught his, but he couldn’t hold it. He glanced at the ground before he drew in a breath and raised his eyes once more. “You look like a Mercian queen.”
