Page 89 of North Queen
“Perhaps not.” He paused. “Or perhaps it does.”
Norah looked at the city, overwhelmed by the death around her—the death of all these innocent people. Anger rose inside her.
“Do you really not know who might have done this?” he asked.
“Mercia has only one enemy,” she said bitterly. And she was staring right at him.
“No one has just one enemy.” His eyes, dark and strangling, locked with hers. “And there are men worse than I, North Queen. You’ll do well to remember that.”
Who could be worse than the Shadow King? The thought struck Norah hard, and she swallowed the sickness rising in her throat.
He turned to the two soldiers that accompanied him. “We’re done here.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s it? We’re going back?”
The king urged his mount forward. “Would you rather stay here?” he called over his shoulder.
She would rather not have come here at all. Norah bit her trembling lip. She couldn’t bear it anymore; she was sick in her mind and her heart. But what could she do? Nothing. She could do nothing but follow behind.
The ride returning to the army was as silent as it had been with the brute. Norah tried to push the images from the village out of her mind. How could someone cause such devastation? And why?
The winter days were short, and darkness set in on them early. Norah trusted her horse to follow when she lost sight of the king in front of her. She nodded off as they rode, wishing she were back in the tent, warm in her bedroll.
Suddenly, she woke to being pulled off her horse. A hand covered her mouth before she could scream.
“Quiet,” the Shadow King whispered in her ear.
Norah struggled against him.
“Quiet!” he hissed.
Her heart pounded, coursing alarm through her veins.
He pulled her through the darkness to a cover of brush, and they peered through to see a group of men sitting round a fire. There were eight, maybe nine—more than the number of soldiers with the king. They spoke in a language she didn’t recognize.
“Drifters,” he said quietly.
Norah’s stomach turned, remembering her encounter in the Wild.
“Stay here, and stay down,” he whispered, then disappeared.
Norah crouched low, listening and trying not to breathe. She struggled against the binding around her wrists, wishing for her dagger again, as she watched the men around the campfire.
Suddenly, one man straightened and looked out into the darkness, opposite her direction. He called to the others, who quieted and drew their swords. They left their fire to investigate, and Norah strained to see them as they disappeared into the night.
The darkness was quiet around her. Where had the horses gone? Where was the Shadow King and his brute? Where were the drifters now? Her heart beat in her throat. She was alone. She crouched lower.
Suddenly, the sound of a fight rang out. Weapons sang together in the night. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them from a distance away.
Her heart skipped. She was alone…
Was this the moment? Could she escape?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned and stumbled down the hill behind her. The binding around her hands made it difficult to run. Bushes tore at her clothing. A thin branch from an unseen tree caught her in the face and cut into her cheek, but she didn’t slow. She didn’t stop. Her legs burned, and her lungs felt like they were going to explode. She tripped on something and fell to the ground, stifling a cry as a jolt of pain ran up her arm, but she gritted her teeth and pulled herself back up. She had to keep going.
Norah knew she needed distance, and she fled farther into the night. She came upon a steep bank and thought she might not reach the top, but she pushed herself up and stumbled down the other side. Through the trees, then through the open, she ran. At some point, she stumbled through a stream, breaking the thin layer of ice on top and soaking the bottom of her riding dress. Still, she ran. When she couldn’t go any farther, she let her legs slow. They shook with fatigue, and she steadied herself against a tree. Her breath echoed through the darkness, and she tried to calm it so she could listen.
Quiet. There was quiet all around her. Her wrists were raw. She needed to get the binding off. The moon provided little light, just enough to show the trees around her.
