A knot formed in her stomach. “My coronation?”
“Of course. Now that you’ve returned, you’ll be queen. I’ve only been queen regent in your absence.”
Norah shook her head again. She couldn’t be queen. She knew nothing of this place, of these people; she knew nothing of ruling. “I can’t be queen,” she said. No. No, she couldn’t do this. She swallowed. The air was suffocating. “This can’t be right. I shouldn’t be here.” She reached for the towel and moved to rise.
Catherine clasped her shoulders firmly, stopping her and forcing Norah to look at her. “Child, I know this is overwhelming, terrifying even. But you’re strong. You always have been. And I’m by your side, and I’ll guide your every step. For now, we’ll take one thing at a time. You will get through this. Do you understand?”
Norah drew in a breath. The regent’s words were firm, sharp even, but not uncaring. It was what Norah needed to stave off her panic. Ever so slightly, she nodded—not a nod of agreement, but a nod of settling.
The woman’s hands softened, but still held her.
One thing at a time. She could do one thing at a time, with Catherine beside her. And Alexander. One thing at a time. “I think I’d like to call you grandmother.”
Catherine smiled. “I’d like that.”
Chapter five
Inside his chamber, Alexander hung his belt and sword on the wall and pulled off his armor, but it wasn’t the weight of the steel plating that had been sitting heavily on him.
He played it back in his mind—seeing her in the forest, calling her name. The sting of her not knowing him hurt more than any battle wound.
So many ways he’d imagined how their reunion might have gone. Mostly joyous. Sometimes he imagined her angry with him, perhaps still hurt, but in each dream, he’d held her in his arms again. But for her to feel nothing… He hadn’t imagined that.
Perhaps it was better this way. Things could never be as they were before, but now it was as though he’d truly lost her, and he didn’t think he could bear it.
Alexander lumbered toward his bed. His legs didn’t feel like his own. He sank down with a grimace, then he covered his eyes with his hand. It had been a long time since he’d shed any tears, so long he couldn’t remember when. But they flowed freely now, and he let them come.
He hadn’t been able to keep his pain hidden from Catherine. She’d raised him; she knew him like her own blood. And while the queen regent loved him, he’d seen the warning in her eyes. No doubt she would see this as an opportunity for Norah to start new. She would try to convince him to do the same. But that wasn’t possible.
And he’d have to find a way to support Catherine. She’d spent more than twenty years preparing Norah’s free spirit for the obligations of the crown, but now everything was gone, and what had taken twenty-five years would need to be rebuilt in days—another feat he wasn’t sure was possible.
A knock on the door pulled him back, and he straightened, collecting himself. Alexander ran his hand over his face, wiping away his emotion, and rose to answer. He opened the door to find the captain of the guard.
Caspian nodded in greeting but paused as their eyes met. Alexander suspected he saw the remnants of his sorrow, but the captain graciously offered no mention of it.
He stepped back into the room, leaving the door open for Caspian to enter. Alexander wasn’t one to show emotion, and few men other than Caspian had seen him outside his calm and pensive nature. They’d fought together, bled together, won together, lost together. They were more than comrades, more than friends. They were like brothers. Still, Caspian wasn’t one to pry, but he knew what Norah’s return meant to Alexander, and he needed to know the situation.
“She doesn’t remember,” Alexander said, not entirely confident in his voice.
Caspian shifted back. “She doesn’t remember what?”
“She has no memory, Caspian. She knows nothing. Not Mercia, not herself.” He paused. “Not me.”
Caspian’s eyes widened.
But Alexander didn’t want to linger on it. He couldn’t without emotion threatening. “Brief her core guard,” he said, “as well as her maids. They’ll need to help her. The queen regent was clear—no one else can know. Not even the council. She’s fought too hard to protect Norah’s crown in her absence. We can’t risk losing it now.”
“That won’t be easy. We’ll have to keep the princess from them.”
“I’ll let the queen regent manage that,” Alexander said. Then he frowned. They’d have to keep her from quite a few people. His mind turned to his brother. Adrian would want to see Norah as soon as he learned of her return, but he’d suspect something right away. Alexander would have to find a way to keep him from her for a while too.
“I’ve sent messengers to the outer reaches, calling all forces back,” Caspian said. “Except for our men in Bahoul.”
Alexander gave a small nod. The mountains—they’d need to keep men there to hold them. When the Shadowlands learned of Norah’s return, it would only be a matter of time before they came for her. Again. “Send the Ninth to join them.” Another thousand men in Bahoul would mean a thousand men less at the capital, but if the Shadow King attacked, Bahoul would be the first line of defense. Caspian nodded, and then he paused. “What about Aleon?”
The mention of their eastern ally made Alexander stiffen, but he pushed the twinge aside and took his belt and sword from the wall. “I’ll send word to Aleon that the princess has returned. And then I’ll go to the seer. Perhaps her return has brought new visions.”
“I’ll take care of the message to Aleon,” Caspian told him. “You go see Samuel.”
Caspian knew his struggle; he knew the bitterness that the thought of Aleon brought, and Alexander clasped his shoulder appreciatively. Then he buckled the belt of his sword and set his mind to the seer.
He didn’t bother with a cloak as he passed through the castle and outside toward the gallery house. He’d made this walk many times over, each with the same hope. But today was different. Norah had returned.
Alexander strode over the cobblestone street to the gallery of the seer. While it was connected to the castle, it was only accessible from the outside. He pushed through the doors and sidestepped the paintings strewn throughout. It was growing more difficult to weave through to the back gallery where he knew the old man would be. As expected, he found Samuel at his easel, hunched over and working on his craft. Alexander’s pulse quickened at seeing the seer at work. A vision must have come.
“A vision? You’ve had one?” he asked anxiously, not bothering with a greeting.
Samuel bobbed his balding head up in surprise. “Hmm?” In seeing Alexander, Samuel pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, it’s you,” he gruffed.
“You’ve had another?” he pressed the old man. “Of the princess?”
Samuel scowled, turning his attention back to his work. “Boy, you’ve been asking me that for years, and for years I’ve told you—”
“She’s returned.”