A knicker sounded from an end stall, and she immediately knew it was the mare. She smiled and hurried toward it. When she reached it, she looked through the top bars, and her smile widened. The mare tossed her head and let out a squeal, as if just as happy to see her.
The stall doors were split in half, with most top doors open for the horses to hang their heads out, but the mare’s was closed. Norah reached for the latch.
A gravelly voice, foreign and angry, called out from her right.
She turned as what appeared to be a stable hand approached. He didn’t wear a head wrap. That practice seemed reserved for soldiers.
“He says this one will take a piece out of you,” Sonal said from behind her. “This mare won’t let anyone touch her.”
Norah glanced back at the mare, who wore a stable blanket and had clearly been brushed. Obviously, someone was able to touch her. She looked well cared for, and Norah was appreciative of that.
The stable hand spoke again. “You’d do well to let her alone,” Sonal translated.
She pulled back the hood of her cloak, and the man stilled. His eyes traveled to the guard behind her, and he took a wary step back. He hadn’t realized who he was speaking to.
Norah pulled back the latch of the top door and swung it open, and the mare knickered again and stretched her head out to her. She smiled and gave the animal a hearty scratch on the cheek. The mare snorted. Norah scratched her forehead before running her hand to the soft flesh of her nose. The horse nuzzled her fingers. Her smile widened, and she looked up at the stable hand. “Tell him to leave her top door open, so she can see out.”
Sonal translated. The man’s eyes told her he didn’t approve, but he gave a stiff nod. Then he glanced once more at her guard and left them alone.
Norah turned her attention back to the mare, giving her another round of affectionate scratches, to which the mare arched her neck and leaned out farther against the bottom door. She wished she could go for a ride, but she felt she was already pushing her luck with the visit.
“I just came to say hello, friend, to see how you’re doing. And you look well.” She pulled the mare’s head closer and gave her a peck on the face. “I’ll come back later and see if we can get out of here for a little while. Maybe a ride sometime.” The mare snorted again, and Norah patted her neck. “Don’t hurt anyone, at least not the ones that care for you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “All others are fair game.”
The animal shook her head, and Norah gave a small laugh.
She should get back, she knew. “All right, goodbye, friend. I’ll be back.” She gave the mare one last scratch and reluctantly headed out of the stable and back toward the castle.
As she made her way back, she let herself admire the gardens. Norah loved gardens. Mercia’s felt so quaint when compared to those of the Shadowlands, but still they were beautiful. She missed them.
She noticed a man on his knees digging a line of small holes. He was an older man; his dark hair was streaked with gray, and his skin had been weathered by the seasons.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
He looked up with a start and rose to his feet when he recognized her. “Salara,” he said, bowing low. His voice held the warmth of welcome, and his eyes smiled like summertime. “How can I be of service?”
That he spoke the Northern tongue surprised her. “What are you doing?” she asked again.
“I am planting isarium, Salara. While they’re dormant.”
“North Queen,” Sonal said, “we should return to the castle and leave this man to do his work.”
She ignored him. “What’s your name?” she asked the man. One of her soldiers broke away and headed toward the castle. If only the rest would leave her too.
“My name is Bremhad, Salara.”
He was such a gentle soul. He reminded her of Kiran.
“Bremhad,” she repeated. “Can I plant one?”
His eyes widened in surprise—he looked a little worried even. “This isn’t work for Salara.”
“I’ll decide that,” she said, picking up a root ball waiting to be planted and looking closely at it. “Do I just put it in the ground?”
“Here,” he said, crouching down, “I’ll show you.” Bremhad scooped some loose soil and put it at the bottom of the hole he’d already dug. Then he waved her to set it inside. She placed the root into the center, and he filled in the sides with the soil, leveling it off with a layer on top.
She smiled, looking at the row of holes. “I want to do another.” She moved to the next, scooping the loose soil to the bottom as Bremhad had done, and then setting the root ball on top. She filled in the sides and added a top layer. The dirt felt good between her fingers, and the smell of earth was familiar somehow. She smiled, feeling pleased with herself.
“So, you speak the Northern tongue?” she asked.
“Common tongue? Yes, of course.”
Sonal interrupted the man with sharp words in the Shadow tongue. The man’s smile fell, and Norah knew he’d been warned. She shot a look at Sonal, giving him a warning of her own.
“Does everyone speak the Northern tongue?” she asked.
The old man was silent, and his eyes darted to her guard. Footfalls came behind her, and she looked back to see the lord commander approaching, followed by Captain Artem and more soldiers. Had the commander not gone with the king? She groaned inside.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
It was none of his business. She pursed her lips. “I’m planting flowers.”
“North Queen, you can’t be out here digging in the dirt.”
“Bremhad has already done the digging,” she said flippantly. “I’m planting the flowers.”
Agitation rolled off his brow. “You can’t be out here planting flowers.”
“Why not? What am I to do? Sit in my room all day?”
“Something more proper for a queen.”
“You should let the queen decide what’s proper for queens,” Norah said shortly. “I’ll go back inside once I’m finished here.” She could feel the heat from his anger, but she focused on her next root ball.
The lord commander gave an order in the Shadow tongue, and each soldier quickly picked up a root bundle and dropped them into the holes lining the walkway, covering the roots with dirt.
“You’re finished now,” he told her.
Norah gritted her teeth, anger swelling inside her. She stood, glaring at the lord commander. His eyes returned her stare like pools of hell. But what could she do?
She turned to the old man. “Thank you, Bremhad. Perhaps I might come again? I’d like to see how things are coming along.”
“Of course, Salara. I’m here every day and would be honored.”
She gave the lord commander and the captain another scowl and then turned back toward the castle.
Four guards. Four guards now stood on duty as she stepped out into the hall from her chamber—no doubt a punitive response to the day prior. But she wouldn’t give the lord commander the upper hand.
She smiled at them. “Oh, perfect. I was headed outside for another walk, so we’re all ready.” And she started down the hall. They fell in step behind her. Close. Too close. Suffocating. She tried to brush it off as she passed the dining hall—where she’d originally intended to go. Petty rebellion was much more important than breakfast.