Norah stood and stumbled out of the water. She wrapped a towel around her as her grandmother shoved the undergarments into her arms.
“Do you know what the vision is?” Norah asked.
“Not yet. Samuel only said to come. Gods, child.” Catherine frowned. “Have you not a single thing on yet?”
Norah struggled with the clothing as it stuck to her damp skin, but she managed to wriggle into most of the items thrown at her. Catherine pulled tight the lacing on her corset before she had fully situated it, and it choked off her breath. The gown came over her head, and Norah thought she might fall over.
“Your hair is soaking wet,” Catherine chided as she pushed the locks aside and fastened the gown up her back.
Norah frowned. “Well, I was… in the bath.”
Dressed, Norah pushed her feet into her silk slippers. Catherine took a towel roughly to her head and then dragged a brush through her mane. Norah didn’t mind the rush. It was better than primping, actually, but an anxiousness swelled inside her at what the vision showed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be in such a hurry to see it.
Norah looked in the mirror of the vanity. She looked normal enough.
“You look fine, my dear,” the woman said, and herded her out of the chamber.
They hurried down the cobbled walkway outside, to Samuel’s gallery. It wasn’t far, but it would have been nice to have remembered her cloak. Her hair was still damp, and she shivered in the evening winter air.
“Would you like me to get a cover, Regal High?” Caspian asked from behind her.
She hadn’t noticed the captain had joined her evening guard. She smiled back at him. “It’s not much farther, but thank you.”
They reached the seer’s door, and Norah followed Catherine inside.
“Samuel!” Catherine called as they weaved through the paintings toward the back room.
“Queen Norah,” Samuel greeted when he saw them. “Come, come.” He waved them back. “It is not finished, but it is clear enough to see.”
They stepped around the easel to discover a large and complex scene across the canvas. A battlefield. Norah’s eyes were drawn to herself riding atop a black horse. Her hair was wild in the wind around her.
Bodies littered the ground, and the dirt was stained with blood. She recognized her own Northmen—fighting, dying. There were others battling beside Mercia, with colors of royal blue. Her gaze shifted to a man mounted on a destrier, charging the battle beside her. He wore a leafed crown on his full-faced helm and held his sword in the air. She almost touched the image, but remembered it was still wet. “Who is that?” she asked.
“That, my dear, is King Phillip,” Catherine said proudly.
Norah leaned closer. His armor was a polished silver, and on his shield was the sigil of a lion encircled by four stars. She wished she could see his face and frowned in irritation as her eyes drifted across the rest of the image. Black figures saturated the left side of the painting.
“Shadowmen,” her grandmother said.
A different army, of black and rusted red, caught her eye. “Who are they?”
Catherine shook her head. “I don’t know.”
It was impossible to tell who fought whom through the sea of death. Norah’s stomach turned. How many kingdoms were in this battle?
“War is coming,” Catherine said. “And not just any war, another Great War.”
“Queen Norah,” Samuel interrupted. “There’s another.”
Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened. “Another vision?”
He nodded.
Her stomach tightened as they followed him to a second easel where another painting sat. This one was smaller but just as haunting. It was an extension of the first. The battle raged on, and in the center of the painting fought a man clad in armor. But he wore no helm and his golden locks shined bright against the backdrop of war. Alexander. He wielded a sword above his head, with his teeth bared. His body twisted in attack on a man that had been knocked to the ground, a man with his arm outstretched against his fate. Norah’s breath caught in her throat at the fated man, for on his head was a horned helm.
Catherine gasped. “By the gods!”
The Shadow King—the man her father had warred against, the man who sought to destroy her. He would fall in this war. Alexander would kill him.
Catherine clutched Norah’s arm, almost pulling her over. “Norah! With Phillip by your side, we’ll defeat the Shadow King!”
Well, Alexander would defeat him. But Mercia was joined with Aleon on the battlefield. Norah swallowed back the knot in her throat as she moved back to the first painting. She looked closely at Phillip on his chestnut stallion. This was the man she was expected to marry, the man that would feed her people and help win this war.
“Norah, you can’t deny this,” pressed Catherine from behind her. “Think about your people. You must do what is best for them. This winter rages on, and they look to you. And more than that, these visions are what await you. You need this marriage to Phillip, and soon.”
Marriage. There it was again.
“Phillip is a good king,” Catherine stressed further, seeming to read her mind. “You could come to love him in time.”
Norah clenched her teeth. That wasn’t how love worked. Perhaps she wished it did. She backed away from the easel. How helpless it felt to have no control, no choice. The images suffocated her. She stumbled numbly back through the sea of paintings and toward the door.
“Norah,” Catherine called after her.
Norah pushed out into the winter, sucking in the icy air. It stung her lungs but felt good. It cleared her mind, helped her think. This wasn’t about love. This was about helping Mercia and her people. They wouldn’t survive the winter. And if this war was to come, she would need Phillip by her side, like in the painting. She would need his army.
Her grandmother was right, and she hated it. Catherine stepped out of the gallery, and they stood on the cobblestone walk. For once, her grandmother was silent.
“Will you help me write a letter?” Norah asked finally. “To this King Phillip of Aleon?”
Catherine let out a breath as she put her hand on Norah’s arm. “Of course, my dear.”
Chapter twenty-one
Despite the eternity of night, the morning sun came too soon. Norah lay awake in bed, looking at the ceiling. Perhaps she’d acted too hastily, but it was too late now. She rose sluggishly as Rebecca opened the draperies and brought in her dress. The cold water woke her fully as she washed her face.
Catherine entered her room as Rebecca fastened the last of the clasps on the back of her dress, and Norah looked up at her in the reflection of the mirror.
Her grandmother gave her a sympathetic smile. “I won’t pretend today will be an easy day for you.”
Norah didn’t respond. By now, the council was already aware of the new vision. She would go to them this morning and announce her acceptance of marriage to Phillip. In a week’s time, she would travel to Aleon, where they would be wed. That would be her life.
Norah stepped out of her chamber and into the hall leading to the stair. She noticed the captain, Caspian, on guard with Titus, as he had been the evening before. Odd.
When they reached the judisaept, the council was waiting.