Page 3 of Shadow Queen
Vitalia sat quietly at a small table in a stone, terraced home, mending a pair of her gloves as Serene read a book. For their own safety from Captain Artem, Salara had sent her maids to the house of the Crest guard Kiran, which he shared with his mother. Vitalia wished she could have stayed with the queen to help her. Salara carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Do you think she’ll return?” Serene asked quietly. The queen was obviously on her mind as well.
Vitalia looked up from her sewing and smiled reassuringly. “Of course she will. She wouldn’t leave us alone here.”
“What if something happened to her?”
It was a question Vitalia asked herself over and over—with the answer she feared most—but she forced a smile. “If there’s one thing I know about Salara, it’s that she can take care of herself.” She nodded to the book Serene was holding. “What are you reading?”
“It’s a book of poems, a favorite from home. It always brings me comfort.” Serene held it out for her. “Would you like to read it?”
Vitalia swallowed. She felt so inadequate as a queen’s maid sometimes. She didn’t have a proper education, as the Mercian maid had. “I’m not able to read,” she said with a flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. She would forever be indebted to Salara for giving her the opportunity for a better life, in a respected position, and for treating her as more than a slave. She only wished she could do everything expected of a maid, all that Salara needed of her, all that Serene was able to do.
“Oh,” Serene said softly. Then she gave a warm smile. “Would you like me to read it to you? I could even teach you, with time.”
Vitalia let out an unexpecting breath, and she smiled. “I would like that very much.”
Serene opened the book again, but a banging outside made them stop.
“Open the door!” a man’s voice called from the street below.
Serene looked at Vitalia with her eyes wide. With Salara’s disappearance, they knew they’d be sought for questioning. And likely worse things.
“Guards,” Vitalia whispered, hurrying to the large armoire against the wall. “Get in. Hurry!”
Serene ducked inside, and Vitalia followed in after. They pulled the doors closed. Unable to stand fully, they crouched, holding hands. It was difficult to hear over the sound of their nervous breaths.
They waited.
Time stood still.
Outside fell quiet. Had the guards gone?
The front door of the home opened and closed, and footsteps traveled up the stairs to where they crouched in hiding. Serene clutched Vitalia’s hand until it hurt. Vitalia ignored it. They peered through the misalignment at the bottom of the doors but could see only the legs of the table where they had been sitting. A man entered the room; just the black of his breeches and boots were visible. He picked up Serene’s book that she’d dropped on the chair, and Vitalia cursed under her breath.
He turned toward the armoire and stood in front of it for a moment, then pulled open the doors, making Serene gasp.
A breath of relief escaped her when she saw it was only Sonal. “You scared the piss out of us,” Vitalia said to Salara’s Crest guard.
“A book from the North. You can’t leave things like this around,” he told Serene, tossing it at her.
“I know, I’m sorry,” the Mercian maid said as she fumbled to catch it. “We just heard the guards, and I guess I panicked.”
They moved to the window and looked across the street to Kiran’s home, watching guards depart. Salara had sent Vitalia and Serene to stay with Kiran’s mother before Sonal moved them across the street to his own grandmother’s house.
“I knew they’d come for you,” he told them. “It’s not safe to return to Kiran’s. Stay here. They’re leaving now, but they might come back. He’s ordered a search for you.”
“Salar?” Vitalia asked.
“No. Artem.”
The thought made Vitalia’s stomach turn.
Chapter two
Alhilat. That’s what Kiran had called the sudden wave of warmth. The earth’s great trick, a false spring. Norah was grateful for it. Its warmth in the harsh of winter had given her the break she needed, the opportunity to escape Artem—an opportunity she’d been desperate for—but it would last only a few days. She had to find this seer, this mind traveler. If he truly was the most powerful in the four kingdoms, maybe he could help her get her memories back.
And she needed to see the visions. She’d seen the images painted by the Mercian seer; she knew the vision Mikael spoke of—Alexander killing him on the battlefield. But everything should have changed when they wed. The visionhadto have changed. A marriage meant no war, which meant Mikael should be safe.
