Page 51 of North Queen
“This works in our favor,” James said.
“Favor?” she stammered breathlessly.
“We don’t have the luxury of time, and this puts pressure to pull the coronation forward before the state. Pressure we need. Things will move quickly now. You must be ready.”
“Of course I’m not ready!”
Catherine hushed her and pulled her toward the castle. “Not here,” she said sternly.
Not here, not in public. Not that it mattered, with everyone’s attention on the wagon of severed heads. Her stomach threatened to rebel. She needed to get away from the courtyard, and she let Catherine pull her back toward her chamber.
No sooner had the door closed when her grandmother said, “Do you see now?”
Norah scoffed in astonishment. “See? I see that you’ll have me slap a crown on my head so I can hurry and marry! And that’s the only thing on all of your minds, not the thousand heads in our courtyard, the heads James says are in our favor!” Her voice came nearly at a scream now. “In what mad world would that be considered in our favor?”
“It helps secure the crown before your ignorance loses it,” Catherine snapped back. “And perhaps now it will open your eyes! This is only a token of what the Shadow King has done, and what he will do. You don’t want to marry? Well, I don’t want a kingdom of severed heads!”
Her grandmother’s words silenced her. She didn’t want a kingdom of severed heads either.
“Norah, Aleon has the largest army in the world.”
“To help me take a Shadow throne I don’t want?” She shook her head. “I don’t even want this one.”
Her grandmother snatched her arm and pulled her close. “Don’t ever say that again. Not ever. Not even behind closed doors. Do you hear me?”
Norah drew in an uneven breath, then another. Her desperation was talking for her, and she couldn’t let it.
“It’s not about wanting the Shadow throne,” Catherine argued sharply. “It’s about stopping a great evil. It’s about saving yourself and your kingdom. And I don’t mean evil in simply a vile sense, Norah. He’s true evil incarnate. The Shadow King made a pact with Darkness, a pact that required his own heart.”
Her eyes narrowed. “A man can’t live without his heart.”
“He’s no longer a man. And out of his pact with Darkness, he was given a demon to command his armies. The blood of men gives this demon strength. It does the bidding of the Shadow King, and in return, it gains the souls of the fallen. And now, the Shadow King has the power to corrupt this entire world and bring death to us all.”
Norah’s skin prickled. And he was coming for her…
Catherine’s hold on her hands softened. “I don’t say these things to scare you, child.”
It was a little too late for that. Norah swallowed.
“Come. I have to show you something.” Still holding Norah’s hand, Catherine pulled her out of the chamber and down the hall to a side door leading outside. Norah silently begged that they weren’t headed back to the courtyard.
They weren’t, and she let out a sigh of relief. She let Catherine lead her down a cobblestone side path to an adjoining stone building with no windows. Her grandmother pushed open the door without knocking, and Norah followed her inside.
They stood in the middle of what appeared to be a sitting room, but all around them were paintings. Hundreds of them. Panels of stretched canvas stood upright and were stacked against the wall, balanced on chairs, and piled high on a center table.
Norah maneuvered slowly through the images, following her grandmother. There were so many—mainly of war but some of celebration. Some were of individuals; there were countless faces.
“Samuel!” Catherine called as they worked their way back.
An older man with thick glasses dressed in a sand-colored tunic and matching trousers appeared in the doorway of an adjoining hall, leaning heavily on his cane. “Ah, Queen Regent,” he greeted Catherine. When he saw Norah, he gave a wobbly bow of his head. “Princess Norah. A very unexpected but very welcome surprise.”
“The painting,” Catherine told him. As if there were only one.
“Ah. Yes, yes.” He waved his cane for them to follow as he hobbled through a door and into a back room.
“Which painting?” Norah asked her.
“The only one that matters.” Catherine started after the seer.
