Page 95 of North Queen
“What happened?” the commander thundered.
“He said something about a poison.”
The commander barked out an order to the men who were running toward them, and others broke from the ranks as well. Despite the cover on his face, she could see the alarm in his eyes. He snarled out another blast of commands and then spurred his horse away.
Soldiers surrounded the king’s mount, and Norah slid off as they pulled him down and carried him to a tent being erected close by. They looked at her warily but left her alone, and she followed them inside as they laid the king down on the bedroll. She watched as they stripped him of his armor, feeling lost to help. Did they have the means to save him?
“Where’s your healer?” she asked.
As if on cue, another man ducked inside with a small pack. He flung a sharp gaze at her as she edged closer to see better, but quickly turned his attention back to the Shadow King. Blood soaked the king’s breeches, and the man used a dagger to cut the fabric. Then he peeled the dripping bandages from around the king’s leg to inspect the wound.
Norah swallowed nervously. By now, it should have scabbed over. It hadn’t. “It’s not clotting,” she mumbled, and looked at the soldier. “Is it because of the poison?”
He gave her a sharp glance but didn’t answer.
“Do you people not speak?” She wiped the hair from her face with her forearm in frustration.
The soldier pulled a needle from his pack and threaded a thin strand through it. Horsehair, perhaps? She didn’t bother asking. He set to work on the wound, pouring a cleansing mixture over it and then bringing the skin together, carefully closing the flesh. Blood seeped out while he worked. When he finished, he pulled out strips of bandages and wrapped them tightly around the king’s thigh. It was too tight, she thought, but she stayed quiet. He pinned it closed.
“What now?” she asked as he covered the king with a blanket.
The soldier eyed her darkly. He didn’t answer.
“We wait,” a feminine voice said.
Norah looked up with a start and saw a woman standing in the corner of the tent. She hadn’t noticed her there before.
The woman clipped out commands in the Shadow tongue, and the other men ducked out of the tent until only she remained with Norah and the king.
Norah watched her, fascinated. Not only was this woman a soldier, but clearly, she held a position of power. She wore a wrap over her head and face, like the men, showing only her eyes. What revealed her sex, aside from her smaller frame, was her breastplate, which was sculpted of a woman’s body, in every detail. Its brazenness almost made Norah flush.
She caught Norah’s gaze on her armor, and the woman’s dark eyes hinted at a sinister smile. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice provocative and taunting.
Norah knew the woman was enjoying her discomfort, and a flash of irritation rose in her cheeks. “Does the Shadow King make all women wear such things?” she asked shortly.
The woman raised a brow. “Make us?” She laughed. “I designed it,” she sneered. “We want our enemies to know who they fight in battle. We want them to know our women can gut them.”
Norah swallowed back a patronizing reply. The woman’s statement was a powerful one, and it struck her deep within. Her irritation faded. Mercia could learn a thing or two from these people. “Fair,” she mumbled.
The woman shifted, clearly surprised at how the conversation had turned.
Norah drew her gaze around the tent, unsure of what to do. Then she looked down at her hands, which were stained with the king’s blood. She wrung them together.
The woman called out again in the Shadow tongue, and within a few moments, a soldier entered with a basin of fresh water.
Norah glanced at her, appreciating the small kindness. She wasn’t sure how to respond in these situations, still being held against her will and with war on the horizon, and she bit back the thanks on her tongue. She submerged her hands into the basin, and the water turned pink as she washed the blood from her skin. “What’s your name?” she asked.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, and Norah bit the inside of her cheek, feeling foolish. Of course, she wouldn’t answer.
“Katya,” the woman replied, surprising her. “Captain Katya Sator.”
Norah’s eyes widened.Captain.She pursed back her smile, trying to keep it to herself. Yes, there was much Mercia could learn.
Her eyes moved to the king again, and worry rippled through her. Blood dripped from his left nostril.
“Oh no,” she breathed as she scrambled beside him. She turned his head toward her, and a small trail of blood trickled from his ear. She looked at Katya in alarm, and the woman called out to the others.
The soldier who had stitched the wound ducked back into the tent, and Norah backed up as he checked the king by moving his head and eyeing the trail of blood.
