She struggled again as he unbuttoned her jacket, but he continued to hold her. Her breath quickened as he ran his hands up her hips and sides. She looked away, shaking with rage, and waited. He used the back of his hand to touch her, a move that felt strangely considerate, but it only fueled her frustration.
Moving down, he ran his hand over her outer thighs and pulled her knee up to reach around her calves through her boots. He finished but didn’t let her go. They lay in silence, the king above her. The dark pools of his eyes didn’t hold the bitter hostility they once had. While he certainly wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t trying to hurt her, and despite his hold, her anger started to dissipate.
The king released her, standing up and straightening his clothing. He wiped the blood from the bridge of his nose and flicked his tongue over his lip.
She sprang to her feet, her heart pounding as he watched her. He swallowed and shifted. Her fury dampened slightly as she tried to make sense of him. He seemed at war in his mind, but then he pulled another leather cord from his packs and approached her again.
“Must I do this forcefully as well?” he asked.
She stewed in her anger but held out her hands to be bound. The skin was raw, and she grimaced as he pulled the cord tight around her wrists. His eyes locked with hers as he finished—they were almost apologetic, but only for a moment.
He called for another bedroll, and her stomach turned at the realization she’d be sleeping in the same tent as him. A bedroll was brought quickly, and she eyed it irritably before settling onto it.
Norah turned her back to the Shadow King and tried to imagine herself alone. She didn’t hear him behind her, and it made her uneasy, but she didn’t dare look back at him. Tears threatened. She bit her lip sharply, forcing an even breath. She couldn’t allow herself to cry.
Despite the circumstance, and the binding, she did sleep. In her dreams, she saw Caspian’s face. She saw her men falling, one after another, and all she could do was watch.
Chapter twenty-six
Norah woke to an empty tent. The king was gone. She combed her fingers through her hair, re-braiding the locks and tucking wayward strands behind her ear as best as her bound hands could manage. What had they done with her things when they captured her? She found a basin of water, which she hoped was fresh, and washed her face and hands. Then she stepped outside. The sun hadn’t yet come up, but light seeped over the hills. Crisp air chilled the dampness that remained on her skin. She shivered.
The massive Shadow army had started assembling, but there was no sign of the king. She turned and, almost colliding with a soldier, jumped. It wasn’t a soldier, she quickly realized, but the king’s brute. She couldn’t see his face with the wrap on his head, only his eyes, which were like the king’s—dark pools of night. There was something unnatural about him, and she swallowed back her fear. He wasn’t really a demon, she told herself. She had hurt him.
He held a horse for her, remaining silent.
“Where’s the king?” she asked, taking the reins and being careful not to touch his hand.
He didn’t respond as he turned and mounted his own horse.
“I know you can speak,” she muttered, and settled onto her own mount.
“Don’t try to escape,” he warned.
“I’ll take your request into consideration.”
The brute looked back over his shoulder, his impatience with her obvious. “Don’t try to escape, or I’ll walk you naked behind me with a rope around your neck like a dog.”
Norah swallowed back her horror at the thought. She suspected he was just trying to frighten her, but she decided it was better not to test him. She’d made a spectacle of him the day prior, and he seemed like he would enjoy humiliating her if he could.
“Well, lead on,” she mumbled.
They headed west, breaking away and leaving the army behind. Frost covered the ground, and the wind stung her cheeks. They’d hit snow before the day’s end. She wished she had her belongings—the thicker gloves, the warmer clothing.
They rode in silence. She resisted the urge to ask questions. She knew he wouldn’t answer. The army fell farther behind them as they rode. She wanted to turn back. It wasn’t that she wanted to be back with the army but rather that she didn’t want to be alone with the brute.
Time passed, and she grew more uneasy. Where were they going? Where was the king? Was the commander planning to kill her? Why else would they have left the army? Why else would they be alone?
The smell of smoke interrupted her thoughts. As they reached the top of the hill, she gasped at the sight. A small walled city lay in ruin before them. They drew closer, and the magnitude of destruction hit her.
Impaled heads lined the front gates, a grotesque message for anyone who passed. Her stomach turned, and she looked away, but there was nowhere to look that didn’t show the horrors that had happened. Charred bodies littered the ground, and buildings smoldered. Her horse snorted nervously. A child’s shoe lay in the mud, and Norah’s breath quivered. What had happened here?
The king met them at the collapsing town center, waiting atop his horse of night, and she looked at him in horror.
“How could you…” Norah couldn’t finish.
“This isn’t my hand,” he said.
“Then who?”
“That’s a question for you, North Queen.”
Confusion needled her. “What?”
“These are lands protected by Mercia, and this isn’t a normal attack.”
Norah swallowed back the bile in her throat. “That doesn’t mean this was an attack against Mercia.”
“Perhaps not.” He paused. “Or perhaps it does.”
Norah looked at the city, overwhelmed by the death around her—the death of all these innocent people. Anger rose inside her.
“Do you really not know who might have done this?” he asked.
“Mercia has only one enemy,” she said bitterly. And she was staring right at him.
“No one has just one enemy.” His eyes, dark and strangling, locked with hers. “And there are men worse than I, North Queen. You’ll do well to remember that.”
Who could be worse than the Shadow King? The thought struck Norah hard, and she swallowed the sickness rising in her throat.
He turned to the two soldiers that accompanied him. “We’re done here.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s it? We’re going back?”
The king urged his mount forward. “Would you rather stay here?” he called over his shoulder.
She would rather not have come here at all. Norah bit her trembling lip. She couldn’t bear it anymore; she was sick in her mind and her heart. But what could she do? Nothing. She could do nothing but follow behind.
The ride returning to the army was as silent as it had been with the brute. Norah tried to push the images from the village out of her mind. How could someone cause such devastation? And why?
The winter days were short, and darkness set in on them early. Norah trusted her horse to follow when she lost sight of the king in front of her. She nodded off as they rode, wishing she were back in the tent, warm in her bedroll.
Suddenly, she woke to being pulled off her horse. A hand covered her mouth before she could scream.