Rebecca looked at her with sympathetic eyes.
“What about the library?” Norah asked her. The book of poems—she’d been wanting to return for it. She didn’t need her maid’s permission, but she recognized the value in an ally.
The maid hesitated but finally caved. “Then you can’t take long. It wouldn’t be good if she were to come and you weren’t here.”
Norah grinned. “I won’t be long at all.”
Rebecca grabbed a cloak and draped it over Norah’s shoulders, and Norah slipped out into the hall.
Her guard shifted when he saw her, clearly not expecting her to go out anywhere.
“Your Highness,” he said, “you should remain in your chamber.”
“Good morning, Titus,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m just going to the library to bring back some books.” She turned on her heel before he could object again, knowing he’d have no choice but to follow.
She traced her way back down the halls from what she remembered. She wasn’t too concerned with getting lost; Titus would help her if needed. As she stepped outside, she slowed. Where she expected to find the cold emptiness of early morning, she instead found people were already bustling about. For a moment, her confidence wavered.
Norah tucked her chin and kept forward, as if focused on important business. Alexander had said no one would address her unless she addressed them first, so she just wouldn’t address them. Easy enough. But her self-assurance fell flat as she remembered that wouldn’t work on everyone. She would just go to the library and back. Quickly.
But as she reached the end of the pillared walkway, a familiar face came around the corner.
Adrian. Damn it.
He was as tall as Alexander and carried himself with the same poise. Norah felt that he was older than his years, and she had to remind herself he was only nineteen.
“Princess Norah,” he greeted her. His eyes were the same as his brother’s, piercing, but more expressive.
“Adrian,” she greeted him, smiling to hide her unease. He was just the kind of person she’d hoped to avoid. She was certain he already suspected something was off.
“How are you settling?” he asked.
She drew in a breath, pushing aside her anxiousness. “Well, thank you.” He watched her curiously, and the silence pressured her to offer more. “I’m just going to pick up a few books.”
He smiled politely.
She glanced back at Titus. He returned her gaze with a wary eye. She moved toward the library, looking for a natural break, and her pulse quickened as Adrian picked up alongside her.
“Is it strange to be back?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” she answered honestly. “Does it feel strange to have me back?”
“It does,” he said, and Norah appreciated his honesty too. “But I’m sure in no time this will feel like home again.”
It was hard to imagine Mercia feeling like home—a place that was so foreign now. “I’m sure,” she mumbled.
“I imagine you’ll—” He stopped as a small group of women walked by. One woman in the group locked eyes with Norah, and excitement flashed across her face, but she said nothing. Norah shifted her attention back to Adrian. What was he saying? Why had he stopped?
He glanced at Norah, then watched the group of women as they passed, before turning back to her. “Do you not want to say hello to Lady Jane?” he asked, his brows drawing together.
“Um”—the woman looking at her must have been Lady Jane, and Norah searched her mind for answers—“my grandmother asked that I settle in before catching up with anyone.” She tried to give a jesting smile. “I probably shouldn’t even be speaking with you.”
Adrian smiled back, but his eyes burned an inquisitive, brilliant blue. “That’s too bad. Jane’s missed you, you know.”
“And I, her.” Norah swallowed back the choke of a lie in her throat. “It’s been a long time.”
He nodded, eyeing her closely. She shifted under his gaze.
“Her mother will be happy to see you too,” he said.
“And… I look forward to seeing her as well.”
He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Except Jane doesn’t have a mother.”
Nine hells.
“You don’t remember Jane?” he asked.
Norah fumbled for words. “I’m a little overwhelmed with everything. Of course I remember. I just wasn’t thinking.”
But his eyes told her he didn’t believe her. “Why are you so different? And did you not know your way around the castle the other day?”
“Adrian,” Titus warned from behind her.
Her heart raced in her chest. “Um…”
Titus stepped between them. “Enough.”
Adrian wasn’t swayed. “Do you not remember? Do you not know?” His voice came more urgently now.
Titus grabbed him by his tunic and pushed him backward.
“Why do you call me Adrian?” he called.
“Wait,” Norah said to Titus, and the guard reluctantly paused. “Leave him be.”
Titus released him, and Adrian drew nearer to Norah again. He swallowed. “Do you not remember me, Norah?”
This was why Alexander had wanted to keep him away. She couldn’t hide her secret from the people who knew her well. It was too obvious. She cursed herself. She should have stayed in her chamber.
“You don’t, do you?” he pressed. “You don’t remember.”
Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. Titus stepped forward again, but she stopped him. “Leave him,” she said. She looked back at Adrian. “You’ve discovered me.” The admission took a weight off her shoulders—the weight of a lie, but it was short-lived. Now he knew, and she wasn’t sure what to do about that.
He swallowed. “Do you remember my brother?”
Her silence answered for her.
“He said you were different.”
She couldn’t lie anymore. “I am different.”
Adrian took a step back as the weight of the circumstance settled over him. “Do you remember anything?” he asked.
Titus shifted uneasily as she shook her head. “Alexander and my grandmother have advised me not to share my condition. Obviously, I’m doing a very poor job of that right now. I’d appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself.”
“Of course.” His voice came low and soft now. “But why don’t you remember?”
That was the answer she was so desperate for. She let out a long breath. “I don’t know. But I’m trying to find out. I’m reacquainting myself, seeing if anything stirs a memory, if anything might be familiar.”
He nodded with a solemn frown. “Forgive me,” he said softly. “It wasn’t my place.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She looked back at the castle. “I should get back.” Then she paused. “Hey—what did I used to call you?”
He hesitated, and she wondered if he was reluctant now that she was a stranger to him.
“Adri,” he said finally. “You always called me Adri.”
His voice held a touch of sorrow. Her loss of memory was not only making it challenging for her but also hurting those she had been close to, those who cared about her.