Page 52 of North Queen
Norah followed them to the back room. It was much like the first and also had paintings stacked against the walls. This room had more furniture, which, like the room before, seemed to serve only to hold more paintings.
“Are all of these visions?” Norah asked.
“They are,” he said as he made his way toward the back.
Norah let her eyes pass from painting to painting in the room of visions. She didn’t know what to make of them. Images of death and carnage surrounded her: castle ruins, fallen men, blood pooling in the streets. And in every image of destruction, there was a dark, monstrous man with a horned helm—the Shadow King.
“There,” her grandmother said, and she pointed to a large painting against the back wall.
Norah stopped and stared at herself. It was an image of her sitting on a throne of night, with a crown atop her head. She wore white, the color of Mercia, but this wasn’t the throne of Mercia.
“It’s the Shadow throne,” Catherine told her. “Do you see now? You’ll take it. You’ll overthrow the Shadow King.”
Norah could only stare. She almost didn’t recognize herself; this woman looked strong. Powerful. Like a queen. It looked nothing like how she felt right now. Her soul still shook from the courtyard, and her mind was still foggy with the day’s horror. This woman in the painting wasn’t her.
“This can’t be me,” she breathed.
Catherine clenched Norah’s hand tighter. “Of course it’s you, my dear. It will be you. Fate’s written it.”
Chapter sixteen
ThedayofNorah’scoronation came with the sun, and Alexander sat in his chamber polishing his boots. He brushed them meticulously, trying to keep his mind from the thoughts that threatened to consume him. Today Norah would be crowned queen and would be one step closer to marrying King Phillip. They needed Aleon, but that didn’t make supporting the marriage any easier.
A knock rattled the door. Before he could answer, Adrian stepped inside. Of course he’d come.
Adrian grinned. “Today’s the day, brother.”
Alexander raised a brow, but he knew what his brother was referring to. “You don’t know that.” Sometimes Adrian was too positive.
“What?” his brother scoffed. “Of course I do. You’re going to be lord justice. Really this time.”
Alexander shook his head as he wrapped the boot brush back in its cloth. “No. The decision hasn’t yet been made, and there are others far more qualified than I.”
“Like who?”
“Many.” Catherine would have put forward a list of names. He suspected the decision would be Lord Branton. The Mercian lord had been a field general before he lost his sword arm in the war, and he’d been a trusted voice to the late King Aamon. His opinions sometimes differed from the council, which was a good thing. He was a good man, and Alexander could respect that decision. He pulled on one boot and then the other. “And even if she has decided, she most likely wouldn’t announce it today.”
“Councilman Edward said it’s customary to name the lord justice on the day of the coronation.”
“Councilman Edward has seen exactly one coronation. That hardly representscustomary.”
“Alec,” his brother pressed, “get excited! This is real. It’s going to happen. Ifeelit.” He looked around. “Where’s Jude?”
Alexander had sent his servant away. “I wanted to prepare alone.”
Adrian shrugged. “I’ll help you.”
Alexander couldn’t help a smile as he rose from the bed. Adrian picked up the polished breastplate from the table and lovingly gave it a wipe with his sleeve before positioning it on Alexander’s chest and buckling the straps carefully. Alexander stood as Adrian finished, watching in the cheval mirror. This had been his father’s armor. He remembered exactly how his father had looked wearing it. He looked very much like his father now.
Their eyes met in the reflection and Adrian smiled. “Father would be proud of you, Alec,” he said, seeming to read his mind. “I am.”
Alexander’s eyes welled, and Adrian hugged him. Alexander held his brother close, treasuring the moment. Then he cleared his throat as he collected himself and clapped Adrian on the shoulder. “Thank you, brother.”
Adrian handed him his sword, and Alexander buckled the belt around his waist.
“Are you ready?” his brother asked with a grin.
No, but he nodded, and they stepped out into the sunlit hallway.
