Page 77 of North Queen
In the castle, Norah said goodbye to her grandmother. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” she asked. While Catherine would travel to attend the wedding, policies prevented them from traveling together, so her grandmother would follow separately.
Catherine clasped Norah’s hands. “Child, don’t worry about me. I’ll join you in Aleon in time for the wedding.”
The wedding. The mention of it made her stomach turn, but she forced a smile and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. She turned as Alexander entered. He paused when he saw her, then seeming to remember himself, he said, “The army is ready.”
Norah glanced back at Catherine and then followed him out into the courtyard.
Caspian held her horse for her, and she mounted as gracefully as she could manage, knowing all eyes were on her, although the only eyes that mattered were Alexander’s.
And his stare nearly broke her.
He reached out and gripped Caspian’s breastplate, clutching him in a silent plea.
“With my life,” the captain assured him.
Alexander’s gaze met hers again, the storms in his eyes haunting her. Would she see him again? He looked back to Caspian and clasped the captain’s shoulder tightly. “With the gods’ speed, brother.”
Caspian nodded and mounted his own horse, and Alexander’s eyes locked back on Norah.
“I know Mercia’s safe in your hands,” she told him.
“Do you still have the blade I gave you?” he asked.
She did—strapped to her calf inside her boot. She nodded.
“Keep yourself well, Norah.”
“Goodbye, Alexander,” she whispered, and gave herself one last look of his face before she turned and urged her mount across the bridge.
Travel was slow with a large army; the first week felt like a year. Normally they’d have reached the border by now, but Alexander had increased the guard from one hundred to five hundred men, slowing their pace. It was hardly necessary, as Mercia bordered Aleon, and Norah wouldn’t be leaving the safety of the kingdoms, but the council hadn’t argued, so neither had she.
Inside her tent, she pulled off her dusty riding skirts as Rebecca laid a fresh riding dress out for her. Today had been especially long, and Norah’s muscles ached from the ride. She thought about opting for the carriage in the morning, but the boredom of sitting in a cramped box for hours didn’t appeal to her.
Thoughts of Alexander had filled her mind through the long hours of the day and well into the night. She wondered if he was thinking about her. She hoped he was, but then again, she hoped he wasn’t. The longing was a curse she didn’t wish for anyone.
Norah sighed. Two more days until they reached the first Aleon kingdom of Praetoria. And Phillip. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle at the thought of seeing him. Or meeting him, rather, since she didn’t have any memory of him at all. She’d decided to tell him of her memory loss right away. Her heart picked up a little. Perhaps he’d reconsider the wedding. But she pushed the hope away as quickly as it came. No. If he’d waited three years for her to return, it was because he was committed to the alliance with Mercia, memory loss or no.
She turned her attention back to the journey. She should enjoy the quiet while she could. Her life would be very different once she was wed to Phillip. She already missed the castle. She even missed Titus, but he’d arrive with her grandmother a week after Norah reached Aleon.
Rebecca ducked outside and returned with a basin and a pitcher of warm water.
“Would you like me to bring you some stew, Regal High? There’s fresh venison tonight. It’s delicious.”
Norah smiled as her stomach grumbled at the thought. “That does sound good, but I think I’ll get it myself. I’d like to sit by the fire for a little while, anyway.”
“Of course, Regal High,” her maid replied, and then ducked out of the tent.
Norah poured some water into the basin and washed her hands. They were so dry from the ride, and the water felt good. She longed for a hot bath. That would be the first thing she did when she reached Aleon, she promised herself. She dampened a cloth and cleaned her face and neck, letting the warmth refresh her. After re-braiding her hair and pulling on the clean, pale-blue riding dress, she felt almost a new woman, and she went to find the venison stew.
Caspian stood by the main fire, laughing at a story a soldier was recounting. Seeing her approach, he straightened and motioned to the men nearby for a bowl of stew. One was quickly delivered, and he handed it to her. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
She smiled, taking it from him. “Thank you.” Rebecca was right—it was delicious. “Compliments to the chef,” she said.
Caspian stretched out his hand toward the soldier he’d been talking to. “That would be Anderson.”
Anderson bowed his head with a wide grin, and she raised her bowl to him in salute. Then she made her way closer to the fire to soak in the warmth. The air was crisp, but the heat from the flame danced across her face. Tiredness seeped into her body and pervaded her mind, but her spirit smiled. Despite the circumstance, there was freedom away from Mercia, away from the castle and eyes of judgment and expectation.
“It’s a clear night,” Caspian said, coming up behind her. She looked up at the stars. Surely there were millions. She ran her hand over her face, feeling the transfer of heat from her cheeks to her palms.
