North Queen (Crowns Book 1), page 32
Then she let out a breath and opened the door, waving the guard to lead her.
People filled the hall from end to end, and her eyes widened as she entered. The magnitude of it all was overwhelming. Everyone grew quiet with her arrival, and all eyes fell on her. Someone else’s marriage. She forced herself forward.
Her wandering gaze found the king seated at the large center table at the front of the hall, and he stood when he saw her. He picked up his chalice and held it high, and the room erupted in clapping as the crowd parted for her. She made her way toward him.
His eyes smiled. “Please,” he said, motioning to the chair beside him.
A servant pulled out the chair as she took her seat.
He sat down beside her. “I’m happy to see you, North Queen.”
“Good,” she said smartly, but gave him a small smile.
His eyes lingered on her. “I thought you might be angry with me for how we left our conversation last evening.”
She looked down at her hands. The thought of not being able to return to Mercia still tore her heart from her. “More… sad.”
He shifted in his chair, and his mouth opened to speak, but he said nothing. He looked out across the celebrating hall, then back to her. His brows drew together. “You’re sad?” He leaned back in his chair. “But you’ll be salara.”
As if the two weren’t the same.
He let out an unsettled breath. “You’ll return to the North again. I promise you this.”
She straightened in her chair. When?
“But tonight, I want you to enjoy yourself,” he told her, looking out across the great hall. “Celebrate. We’re to be married.”
Did he have to remind her? Norah noticed the king’s mother was absent from the festivities. She wondered how long she’d have to endure before she could excuse herself. Could she excuse herself from her own wedding celebration? She glanced around—was there at least some food?
Three women approached. They lined up before the king and gave a low bow. They were beautiful, with dark honeyed skin, hair like black silk, and large brown eyes. Sisters, maybe? Her gaze moved over the ornate embroidery of their dresses, the gold around their wrists, and the adornments in their hair. Women of status.
“Salara,” Mikael told them, introducing her.
The women smiled politely at her, giving another low bow.
“Myral, Rasha, and Heta,” he said to Norah. “They’ll be with you in the villa, where you’ll stay once we’re wed.”
Royals maintaining separate spaces wasn’t surprising; it was customary in Mercia as well. Forced friends—odd—but Norah liked the idea of not being entirely alone. “We’ll be good friends, then,” she told them, giving a polite smile.
The women bowed again and then left as gracefully as they had come.
A string of music caught her ear, and she glanced up to see a dancer in the center of the hall. Norah took in a breath of astonishment at her clothing, or rather, her lack of clothing. The woman wore only braided weaves of richly patterned cloth around her hips and small bells that jingled with each movement. Beaded bracelets wrapped her wrists, and she shook them in unison to the rhythm of the music. Heavily beaded adornments covered her neck, with intricately woven strands cascading over her chest. The nipples of her bare breasts were pierced with small golden rings.
Norah’s eyes widened as the woman moved her hips to the fluted song. She’d never seen anything so brazen. Such entertainment in Mercia would be the ruin of a good name. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she couldn’t look away. The dancer had lighter hair, blonde, like her Northmen. Norah wondered where she was from.
“She’s beautiful, yes?” Mikael said as he watched the dancer.
“Um…” She swallowed, unsure how to answer. Despite her discomfort, she was mesmerized. The dancer flowed with the music, her body rolling like the waves of the sea. She was light on her feet, as if she weren’t held by the pull of the earth. Her eyes locked with Norah’s. She was close enough for Norah to see their emerald depths. The woman smiled.
The dancer spun, and Norah finally broke from her hold. She glanced at Mikael, only to find him watching her.
“You like her?” he asked. His eyes flashed with amusement.
Norah’s cheeks flushed, like she’d been caught. She swallowed back her embarrassment. “I’ve just never seen anything like her.”
“She’s all the way from Elam, given as a gift to Japheth’s King Gregor, but I won her from him in a bet.” He smiled, smugly pleased with himself.
Disgust knotted in her stomach. She found nothing pleasing about gifting or betting human beings. Bitterness rippled across her tongue. “Do people’s lives mean nothing to you?” she said before she could stop herself.
His smile faded. “She’s a slave.”
“She’s a person,” Norah snapped.
Anger flashed across his face at her rebuke; he was clearly unaccustomed to being chastised, but he didn’t respond. He only sat for a moment, then gave a small wave of his hand. The music died. He called out in the Shadow tongue, and the dancer stopped. She looked at Norah with a troubled face.
“What are you doing?” Norah asked him.
The dancer bowed low and quickly left the hall.
“What’s going to happen to her?” she asked, her alarm growing.
“Whatever you decide. She’s yours now.”
She sat back in her chair. “What?” Was he serious? No—he couldn’t be. Was he? “I don’t want her.”
“Then you’ll have to figure out what to do with her.”
Gods, he was serious. Norah scoffed in frustration as she looked back out across the hall. She knew she’d offended him, but she didn’t really care. He was offensive. The Shadowlands were offensive, with their slaves and their bloodlust. This was a mistake; she couldn’t marry this man. She had to get out of here. She had to… escape… somehow. Get back to Mercia…
And prepare for war. Because that’s what she would cause: war.
Norah sighed. She couldn’t leave. She had to make this work. But she vowed to herself that she would change things.
The celebration wore on through an endless evening. Mikael settled. She felt his eyes on her, often, but didn’t look at him. Finally, she bid her parting and, thankfully, slipped away. As she walked to her chamber, her mind spun around her. She had to find a way to live here, despite her abhorrence of the idea. She had to learn how to live as queen of the Shadowlands.
Norah opened her chamber door and jumped at the figure inside. “Hammel’s hell,” she breathed as she recognized the woman—the green-eyed dancer.
The woman bowed low. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She gripped the side chair close by, her heart still racing. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m yours now,” she said quickly.
Norah drew in a sharp breath and clipped it out again. “No, you’re not mine. That’s not… no.”
Panic flashed across the woman’s face. “Do you not find me pleasing?”
“I don’t,” Norah said shortly. “You have to go. No one can see you here.”
The woman fell on her knees in front of Norah. “Your Majesty! I’m sorry I displease you. But I beg of you, please don’t send me away! Let me try again.”
Norah shook her head as she swallowed back the awkwardness of the situation. “There’s nothing to try again, I don’t want”—she waved her hand—“whatever it is you do.”
“I’m most discreet. And trained in pleasure for both men and women.”
Norah’s cheeks flushed hotter. “That’s exactly what I don’t want,” she insisted. “Please, go.”
“Do you have a need for a maid?” she pleaded.
“No, I—” Norah paused. She did need a maid. She thought she’d be given one, but that seemed unlikely now. She eyed the woman doubtfully. “Are you trained as such?”
“I’ve been in Kharavian court for three years. I know the ways of Kharav, and I know what proper maids don’t.” Her deep-emerald eyes sparkled, begging. “I can help you.”
But Norah pushed the idea from her mind. “No,” she said. “I can’t have you as my maid.”
The dancer bowed low on her knees. “Please, Your Majesty! I can’t stay at court if you won’t have me.”
Why would she want to? “You don’t need to stay at court. Go. I free you.”
“But I can’t live freely in Kharav as an outsider. They won’t allow it. I’ll be killed.”
Norah let out an exasperated breath. “Why don’t you go home?”
“I can’t return home. I was a gift to King Gregor. Nor can I return to Japheth. If I can’t stay at court, I have nowhere. Please, Your Majesty.”
Norah felt a twinge of guilt. What was she to do with this woman?
The dancer’s emerald eyes found hers. “Your Majesty, I know what it’s like to be a stranger in a strange land, to not trust anyone or anything around you. Please, let me serve you in whatever capacity you see fit.”
Norah pushed out a long sigh. She did need a maid, and this woman might be able to help her in other ways she hadn’t anticipated. “What’s your name?”
“Vitalia, Your Majesty.”
“Do you have clothes, Vitalia? Appropriate clothes?”
The woman gave a breathless smile. “Yes. Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Very well,” Norah relented. “We’ll try it out. Fetch your things. Take the side room, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Vitalia jumped up, smiling and bowing. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you! Thank you!” She bowed again and fluttered from the room.
Chapter thirty-nine
Norah made her way down to the dining room for breakfast with her new maid close behind. She hoped no one would recognize the dancer in a more conservative dress.
Mikael’s gaze locked on her as she entered. He straightened, and his mouth opened slightly, but he didn’t speak. He only stared at her, and a flush came to her cheeks.
Salara-Mae rose from her seat and stood, as proper courtesy dictated, then gave her a stiff nod and sat after Norah did, returning quietly to her breakfast.
Norah wondered if breakfast in the dining hall was a routine for Salara-Mae. She also noted the commander’s absence.
“I trust you slept well?” Mikael asked. His tone seemed unsure, if the Shadow King could be such.
“I did.”
Just then, his eye caught the sight of her maid standing in the wing, and he looked back at Norah in surprise.
“Is everything all right?” she asked him, feigning ignorance to what pulled his attention.
He looked at his mother, who took a bite of her biscuit, clearly unaware and indifferent to their conversation. “Perfectly,” he said with some amusement.
“Does the lord commander not take breakfast here?” Not that she missed him.
The question was enough to catch Salara-Mae’s ear. “No, he does not,” she said sharply. “Breakfast is my time.”
Norah smiled to herself. She felt a kinship with this woman who disliked the commander as much as she did.
After they finished eating, Salara-Mae excused herself, and the king rose from the table. Norah turned to leave.
“North Queen,” Mikael called, stopping her. “Will you walk with me?”
Walk where? But his voice had come gently, and she gave a small nod.
He offered his arm, and she paused. It was the first time he’d extended a public physical connection toward her. A courtesy, she told herself. She swallowed, but then looped her hand under, accepting. His skin was warm, and he covered her hand with his own.
Damn the gods. She didn’t hate it.
He led her through the halls. “I see you found yourself a maid.”
“I needed one,” she said. “So, I’ve put her to use. But”—she met his eye—“she’s no longer a slave.”
“Will you be freeing all my slaves around the castle?” he asked, a slight irritation in his voice.
She didn’t care. “Probably.”
His nostrils flared, but he didn’t reply. His skin warmed, perhaps from his anger returning. She stiffened. Let it. Slavery wasn’t something she’d pretend to be okay with. He glanced down at her, his eyes ablaze, but she only returned his glare.
Unexpectedly, he seemed to calm again. And so did she.
He was an interesting man, crafted of fire and war, quick to anger, quick to fight. But as he looked at her, she noticed that he was also quick to yield.
She felt it too. She didn’t want to fight him either. “Where are we going?” she asked, changing the subject.
They walked a little longer, and then he paused in front of a hall with a single door. “As I said before, after we’re wed, you’ll stay in the villa, but this will be your sanctuary away from everything. It’s for you alone.”
He led her down the hall and opened the door to reveal a sprawling suite. A bed sat centered against the wall with abundant pillows and furs, and there was a plush settee by two windowed doors that opened out onto a balcony.
She walked to the balcony.
“It faces north,” he said, his voice softer, “so you can look to your home sky.”
The notion brought a wave of emotion she wasn’t expecting, and she bit her cheek to hold it back. She looked over the rest of the room. There was a small bath chamber off the side, and a vanity against the far wall.
“No one will visit or disturb you here,” he said. “Your guard will stop at the end of the hall, not outside your door. No one will enter without your invitation. Not your guard, not your maid,”—he paused—“not even me. It’s here you may come when you want to be alone and be left alone.”
Warmth rolled through her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. You’ll be salara and above all others.” His eyes were dark, but kind. “This is your home now. This castle is yours, and you can do in it what you’d like.”
“Thank you,” she said with a faint smile.
“Good day, North Queen.” He gave her a small nod and left her to her sanctuary.
Norah let out a breath and looked around again. A sanctuary. Unlike her room, it was whitewashed and bright. She opened the doors to the balcony and breathed in the winter. It didn’t seem quite so cold.
She made her way out of the chamber and back down the hall to where her guard and new maid waited. It was the kind guard—Kiran, she’d learned from Vitalia. Another guard stood with him; one she didn’t recognize. She decided to take the king up on his statement. She could do what she liked, and she’d like to look around. “I want to see the castle,” she told Vitalia. “Can you show me around?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” the maid said with a nod. “You’ll love it. And just wait until you see Ashan.”
“Ashan?”
“The city. Right outside the castle.”
There was a city, Norah remembered. She wondered when she’d be able to explore it. The commander had told her she needed four guards to leave the castle, but she didn’t take that as open permission. That she felt she needed permission irked her, but she decided she’d take one thing at a time.
Norah made her way around, with Vitalia quietly answering her questions as they went. The maid’s knowledge surprised her, and she listened closely. The castle was beautiful, with its arched halls and intricately designed tilework, and she found herself admiring everything around her.
A large hanging portrait in the hall caught her eye and drew her closer in curiosity. Right away, she recognized Salara-Mae, and although it looked like Mikael beside her, it wasn’t.
“Salar’s father,” Vitalia told her. “Rhalstad Ratha Shal.”
Norah looked carefully at the intricate painting. The detail was so incredibly fine that it almost seemed real. Mikael’s resemblance to his father was undeniable, but the senior king wore his hair cropped short and his beard longer. On the side of his head ran a large scar, starting at his temple and stretching backward.
Norah let her eyes move to Salara-Mae, except she was Salara then, who looked quite young but still had an elegant sharpness to her face. She was beautiful, Norah mused. “Do you think they were happy together?” she asked.
“Who wouldn’t be happy serving their king?” a voice boomed from behind, and Norah spun to see the lord commander. He wasn’t wearing his wrap, and she wasn’t sure if she preferred to see his face or not. Well, she’d prefer not to see him at all. His two dogs followed obediently at his heel, their heads low, as though prowling on a hunt. They looked menacing. Like their master.
“What are you doing here?” he asked stiffly.
“I’m looking around the castle, as I was invited to,” she cut back. “If you have a problem with that, go talk to your king.”
His eyes darkened, then he said, “I have no problems with that. In fact, I’ll join you.”
Norah fumed. Of course, he knew exactly how to control her. “No need,” she said sharply. “I was just finishing.”
The corners of his lips turned up in a satisfied smirk, and Norah raged even more inside. She turned toward the hall to her left, not knowing where she was going, but she’d sort it out once she got away from him.
“Do you seek my bedchamber?” he asked cheekily, halting her step. “Because that’s all you’ll find that way.”
Norah’s face flushed with heat, and she glared at him as she turned and headed back the way she had come. Her steps quickened as her irritation grew to anger. She hated how he could get to her.
“Is he always so maddening?” she hissed at her guard when they were out of earshot.
“No, Your Majesty,” Kiran answered.
Norah puffed a breath in frustration. “That’s what you’re compelled to say, I suppose. And does he always have those wretched creatures?”
“Cusco and Cavaatsa? Yes, Your Majesty. He’s raised them from pups.”
Norah found it hard to imagine the lord commander raising and caring for anything. “What are they? Hunting dogs?” she asked.
“Hunters of men,” Vitalia mumbled.
Norah didn’t doubt it. She slowed as the hall turned to the left and brightened into a glass ambulatory. Her irritation dissipated as she marveled at the large white flowers lining the outside of the glass and casting whimsical shadows from the sun onto the stone floor. She knelt by the glass, amazed. “Flowers in the winter?” she breathed.
