Kiran’s words continued, but she didn’t hear them. The sound of a horse had caught her attention, and she looked over her shoulder toward a grand building offset from the castle. Behind it were circled paddocks, some with horses.
“Is that the stable?” she asked.
Kiran paused in his flower tour. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Is my horse there?” She desperately wanted to see the mare again. She had a connection to the animal. Maybe it was a connection to her old self. And she was fond of the mare—a friend in a place where she had very few.
“I would assume so,” he answered. “But we should get back, Your Majesty. The lord commander will check that you’ve returned to your chamber, and Captain Artem, too, no doubt. And forgive me, I’ve led you outside the castle with only two guardsmen.”
“I don’t answer to the lord commander,” she answered shortly. “Or the captain.”
“Please, Your Majesty,” he said softly. “I do.”
Norah sighed. She didn’t want any trouble for those who were kind to her. She gave a relenting nod, casting one last glance toward the stable, and they headed back the way they’d come.
Chapter forty
Each day passed slowly. Norah struggled to find her place in it all. She was a queen, but she still felt more prisoner than queen in the kingdom of Shadows. Would that change when she became salara?
She pulled back the draperies on the windows, letting the morning light pour in. Vitalia had gone early to the dressmaker, but Norah spotted the tray of breakfast she’d left on the table. She smiled. Biscuits and honey. She loved honey, although she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had it.
Norah dropped down and curled into the cushioned chair at the table, crossing her legs up under her and into the warmth of her nightgown, then scooted the tray closer. Perhaps she was letting this honey draw too much excitement, but she was alone, and she’d let herself have this small joy.
She broke the biscuit in half to pour the honey across but then pushed it back; she really didn’t care about the biscuit, and instead scooped her fingertip into the small jar of gold. She gave barely enough time for the drip to break before she brought it to her mouth.
And it was the most amazing thing she’d ever tasted. There were hints of lavender mixed in the sweetness; it was rich and thick on her tongue. She wanted to drink it from the jar. There was no spoon to spread it, no knife. It was meant to be poured on the biscuit. She didn’t care, and she dipped in her finger again.
Norah heard movement in the hall—Vitalia, back with her dresses. She grinned and moved to the door. She was going to tell her she was the best maid ever and beg her for more honey. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Vitalia.
It was Mikael, poised to knock.
Norah stood, her nightgown loose over her shoulder, holding her jar of gold with a honey-coated fingertip. Not exactly how she wanted anyone to see her. Not how she wanted him to see her.
His gaze traveled down her length and back up. “North Queen,” he said.
“Um…” She shifted. “Hello.” She winced. The right way to address him still escaped her.
They stared at each other for a moment. “I’m”—his brow dipped as he glanced at her honey-coated finger—“sorry to disturb you.”
She felt she might die a little.
His gaze rose to her face again. “I just… wanted you to know that I have to tend some things in the south. But I’ll return tomorrow. Late.”
She nodded, trying to act normal. “I’ll… be here.” She cursed herself. Where else would she be?
He nodded back. That seemed the end of his message, but he didn’t move to leave. His eyes shifted down to her hands again.
“Do you… want some honey?” She cursed herself again. Stupid. Of course he didn’t want honey. She bit her lip to keep from cringing. Gods help her.
He didn’t answer, and it only made it worse. But then he stepped closer. His eyes said he wanted something. She swallowed but didn’t move.
Slowly, he reached out and took her hand with the honey-dipped finger. She froze. Her breath stopped, and her pulse thrummed heavily in her ears. His eyes melded into hers as he brought her finger up and wrapped his lips around it.
His mouth was cool against the flame of her skin. The flick of his tongue, the graze of his teeth, sent prickles rippling across her body. Every hair stood on end. It was so brazen of him. And of her to let him. It was shameful, even though it wasn’t shame she felt.
She should stop him.
But she didn’t want to. So she didn’t.
Finally, he drew her finger from his mouth—slow, tortuous—and lowered her hand, releasing it.
Norah stood breathless.
The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, North Queen.”
She could only nod.
He turned and left, and she closed the door behind him, leaning back against it. Her heart still thundered. She could still feel his mouth, his tongue. The thoughts sent heat pooling to her stomach. This man. She didn’t know what to do about him, didn’t know what to think.
He knew no boundaries, no restraint. Alexander would never—
Alexander—she pushed him from her mind. She couldn’t think about Alexander right now.
She needed air. A walk. Something. She couldn’t wait for Vitalia to get back with the dresses. She pulled a green front-laced gown from the side dressing room and shuffled it on. Grabbing her cloak, she slipped on her shoes and then swept out of the chamber and down the hall.
Her guard picked up behind her, and she fastened her cloak around her shoulders as she walked.
“Do you plan to go outside, North Queen?” a guard asked from behind. Sonal. With Vitalia’s help, she was learning to tell the guards apart. She didn’t like Sonal. He wasn’t accommodating like Kiran, and she didn’t like the way he called her North Queen.
She kept walking.
“You’ve only two guards,” came his voice again.
“Then you’d better find two more before I reach the door.” She walked quickly, hoping to avoid anyone who might stop her, like the lord commander, or the captain. As she reached the entry hall, two more guards fell instep behind her.
That wasn’t as difficult as she’d expected.
“Where are you going?” Sonal asked.
She didn’t answer, giving the guard a taste of their own medicine. But the corners of her mouth drew up. She knew exactly where she was going. The mare.
Outside, the air was chilly, and she pulled the hood of her cloak up but inhaled deeply. It felt good to get out of the castle—to set her mind on something other than Mikael and the morning’s happening. The brief thought again brought a heat to her lower stomach, and she pushed it away.
The castle grounds were expansive, easily double the size of her castle in Mercia, and beautiful. The main courtyard had three fountains and a wide cobblestone path for daily markets and activities. Meticulously kept hedges surrounded the outer edges, and the long side garden that Kiran showed her before held even more topiaries. She lengthened her stride toward the stable.
The inside of the stable was almost as grand as the inside of the castle, with stacked stone lifting the ceiling high to let in the light and beautiful dark-wood stalls lining both sides. Most of the stalls were empty and large enough to fit at least three horses. Then she reached one that was occupied and realized perhaps they weren’t—she’d forgotten how massive the destriers were.