Land of Fury, page 11
He is not leaving. He would be a fool to, especially when he knows about the queen’s health.
“He means to do something,” Fiske says as he and Rom come to stand beside me. We watch Harald’s men mount their horses and ride after him. It’s clear now that Harald is not here simply to take his prize, but to gauge how poorly the queen is faring.
It’s only after his steed’s hoofbeats have completely disappeared that I allow myself to breathe. “Yes, he does.”
“Elof and Gunhild are with the rest of Harald’s men in the village. Perhaps we will go for a ride as well.”
I nod. “Have our eyes and ears see what they can discover. And Sara at the tavern—ensure she and the ladies ply them with plenty of ale. Drunk men like to talk.”
Fiske nods, and as he converses with the others, I remember the princess. I glance around the courtyard. Any servants that witnessed the assault have gone back to their duties, and I see no sign of Thora.
“The princess has gone to her room,” Rom supplies.
I nod, making my way back to the stables. “Good. Send Karra to tend to her.” Though I want to ensure the princess is all right, I know she wishes me miles away from her.
Rom and Fiske untie their horses, ready and waiting.
“Will you not tell the queen?” Fiske says as I swing my leg over the saddle.
I ignore the pain on my right side and turn Baldr toward the gate.
“She would be reluctant to do anything about it,” Rom offers, his horse falling into step beside us. “Harald is her key to keeping the southern warlords in check.”
“I will worry about the queen,” I tell them. “You worry about Harald. I have just made an enemy of him, and he could ruin everything.”
“Or perhaps,” Fiske muses, “you’ve simply brought this whole bloody thing to a head.”
16
THORA
The minutes pass in a frantic rush yet stretch in a numb forever as I hurry to my chambers. I have never been grateful to Zander, but today, he saved me from what I’m certain would have shattered me.
My cheeks are red from the cold, and stained with dirt and drying tears by the time I get to my room. Slamming the door closed, I stare at my hands. With an unsteady breath, I fist them tightly and pace the length of my chamber.
I was not prepared. I should’ve had my dagger—my bow and quiver. I should have known Harald would try something so fiendish. But then, I laugh. What would I have done, shot him through?
I have been foolish not to prepare for any of this, because the fearsome queen and her wrath have never protected me. Not five years ago, when the rebels were going to kill us in the church, and not here with Harald. Instead, my mother has only put me in danger, and I will not sit by and wait for my life to be stripped from me, for my soul to be crushed and my will to be broken.
I move without thought, bustling about my room—my hands busy as my thoughts spin and my heart flutters.
As my door creaks, I whirl around.
Karra’s gaze is already assessing me, concern crumpling her brow. “Your Highness—are you all right?” In two steps she’s in front of me, and I can tell she knows. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “But I will not stay here and wait for him to try again.” Spinning away from her, I hurry to the trunk at the end of my bed. “I am leaving this place.”
“Princess—”
I whirl around. “I cannot stay here, Karra.” I hate the warble in my voice. “Zander pulled his guards away from the postern gate to watch Harald’s men while he’s here. So, tonight, when the moon is full, I will leave. Whatever my fate is out there, it will be better than this.”
“What about your mother—”
“What about her?” I say, almost pleading for Karra to understand. She could go to the queen right now and tell her all I’ve just said if she wanted to.
Walking over to Karra, I take her hands in mine. “She has Siggy at her side. She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t even want me.” I shake my head, my heart beating wildly. “I want to be strong and have courage, Karra, but I will not survive Harald. I know I won’t. I’m not my mother. I am not made of stone—”
Karra squeezes my hand in hers. “Shh,” she coos, cupping the side of my face with the warm, rough palm of the other. “I know, Your Highness.”
“I do not care about the danger or what happens to me—”
“You will be all right,” she says calmly, “because I will help you.”
“I—” I freeze. Blink at her. My mouth is gaping as I realize I haven’t even told her my poorly formed plan yet. “You what?”
“I will help you,” she promises. “I will help you get to Talon Bay.” I remember her words from yesterday. She knows about it, she said so herself.
My heart wants to sing hearing such words, but I barely allow myself to believe it. “Karra,” I whisper. “Are you certain? If they find us, then . . .” I can’t bear to say the words aloud, knowing she would not meet a merciful end.
“What else do I have to do?” she replies with a half-hearted shrug. “You are my princess, and I will see you away from this place. Away from these people.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I fling my arms around her. She is warm and familiar and smells of bread from the kitchens. “I have nothing to offer you but coin and my bow. And should we find ourselves—”
“We will figure it out, Your Highness.” She pulls away, her gaze fixed on me and unwavering. I have no idea how she knows such things, but I believe her. “Have faith.” She says it with such certainty, I find it strangely reassuring.
When I nod, Karra offers me a watery smile. “But,” she says, and her gaze clouds with what looks like empathy. “There is something you must know before you decide to leave this place.”
I brace myself for whatever fills her with doubt and hold my breath.
“You mother is ill, Your Highness.”
I scoff. “Ill? The queen does not get ill.”
But as Karra’s gaze lingers, I realize how serious she is. “Your mother has been quite ill for some time. Abbess Blanca was seen making frequent trips to the apothecary in Winterwood, and the queen’s lady’s maid has all but confirmed it.”
I frown, imagining my mother less than she is. Hard. Brutal. The inflexible backbone of the entire kingdom. “Why have you not said anything until now?”
Karra sighs, shaking her head. “To tell the princess her mother is dying is not news I would deliver lightly, Your Highness. Especially if I am not supposed to know such things.”
“Then she has been hiding it well,” I admit, though, as I think about her missing frequent dinners to tend to kingdom matters, I wonder how many of them were excuses when she was too ill to come down. I meet Karra’s gaze again. “What is wrong with her?”
Karra lifts her shoulder ever so slightly. “I am not certain, Your Highness. But whatever she is taking now only masks the pain.”
Unbidden, tears prick my eyes, and not because I am particularly sad to hear such news, but because my mother, my flesh and blood, is ailing and I haven’t noticed. Nor has she bothered to confide in me.
“This changes nothing,” I whisper. “Ill or not—dying or not—she would send me away and force me to marry that man, unwilling to protect me now, and she certainly can’t after she is dead.” I shake my head in disbelief, because if anything, it makes me want to leave all the more.
“Then we must prepare,” Karra murmurs. “The days are short, which is to our benefit, for we can leave as soon as the sun sets. But the nights are long and they are cold, Your Highness. And we have a long journey ahead of us.”
I nod again, my body trembling with anxious anticipation this time. “I have to go down and face them for dinner.” I look at my bedraggled reflection in the mirror. “If I refuse, my mother might come looking for me. We could lose our chance to flee tonight.”
The thought of seeing Harald again makes my palms sweat, and yet, it is seeing Zander—him witnessing what happened—that makes my stomach churn. While I want to think there is still goodness in him, a human part my mother seems to lack, I can’t help but wonder if Zander was protecting his queen’s assets more than he was aiding me today.
“Zander was there,” I tell her, praying I’m not completely wrong about him. “Perhaps he will take pity on me and request my mother leave me alone for the night, if he knows I’m not feeling well.”
“Should you not tell the queen what happened, my lady?”
I huff a humorless laugh and look at her. “Let Zander tell her, if he wishes. He’s good at that.”
Karra pulls a twig from my hair. “Then we will leave while they are at supper.”
I glance down at my dress, exhaustion overcoming me suddenly. “I cannot wear my clothes outside the castle walls—not even my riding habit. If I look like the princess, we will not get far.”
“I will see to it. And I will secure what provisions I can.”
“We will need our horses fed,” I add.
Karra pauses. “Lightning must stay,” she says, shaking her head. “There are a dozen servants that would notice. I could secure you a different horse and have it waiting for you outside the keep.”
My heart falls as I consider leaving Lightning behind. “Fitz,” I breathe, an idea forming. “He knows I enjoy evening rides sometimes. I’m certain he saw what happened today, or that he has at least heard of it. He would not question an evening ride to myself, not after such an ordeal.”
Though Kara seems reticent, she nods.
“And—” I peer around my bed chamber. “I will ensure we have what we need to bargain ourselves out of trouble, should we find ourselves in need of hefty payment.”
With another reluctant nod, Karra crouches and lays two logs on my fire, as if we aren’t plotting my escape. “What are you doing?” I ask, stepping closer.
“Until we leave, all must look as it should, Your Highness.” She pokes the embers beneath, reviving the flames. “Nothing can seem amiss. And you are still shaking like a leaf.”
I stare down at my hands. “I am well. I just . . .” I don’t know the word for it because I am too many things. I’m overwhelmed. Afraid. Tired. Hopeful. Desperate.
Karra rises to her feet, wiping her hands on her apron. “Pack what you need, but hide it in your trunk, Your Highness. Just in case.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I will see to everything else. You must rest. You will need your strength.” Karra glances around my room as if she’s ticking off a mental list of tasks, and as she strides past me, I reach for her arm.
Karra halts. “Yes, my lady?”
“I—” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I know what you risk in helping me.”
“What we both risk, princess. I could not live with myself if you left on your own. And I know far more about the world than you.”
I stare at her, bewildered and beyond grateful. “However did you find me?” I ask, though I’m not sure where the words come from.
Karra’s eyes widen slightly, a little shocked by the question.
“It was just Abbess Blanca and I for so long. Then I woke one morning, and you were tending to my fire.” I shake my head. “I never really questioned it, perhaps because I was so relieved. And you have been my greatest friend, and I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
Karra’s gaze softens as she takes my hand. “Perhaps the gods knew we were both in need of a friend,” she answers gently.
“Your gods. My mother’s God. Fate. Whatever it was, I have been thankful every day since you were brought to me. I hope you know that.”
Karra smiles, her hazel eyes crinkling in the corners. “As am I, Your Highness. Truly.”
With the bow of her head, she hurries out the door, leaving me to the reality that my mother is ailing, my life is spiraling out of control, and I—the Princess of Norseland—am going to run away.
17
THORA
Unable to ignore the news about my mother’s health, I head for her bedchamber. I know I must speak with her before leaving, if for no other reason than to put my mind at ease—to be certain there is no other way to free myself from Harald.
Hurrying down the hall, I hope she is still readying herself for supper. One of the castle guards is posted outside her door when I round the corner. Clearing my throat, I approach.
“Your Highness.” The guard bows his head.
I glance at my mother’s door. “Is she within?” I ask.
“I believe she is preparing for dinner, my lady, but she is not to be disturbed.”
“It is important,” I tell him, and her guard refocuses on the wall instead of sending me away.
Running my hand down the front of my dress, I exhale and lift my chin. What transpires next will seal my fate. I know this. It will sway my decision to stay or go—to take the leap into the unknown or to remain here and accept the dark, unwanted days ahead.
I rap on her door, listening as I wait for an answer. There is a clink of bottles. The sliding of a drawer. The clearing of a throat.
“What is it?” my mother clips, and I lift the latch to enter. “Did I not tell you, I am not—” She frowns. “Thora? What are you doing here?” My mother looks as uneasy as I feel, seeing me in her doorway. I can’t remember the last time I came to her room.
“I have come to speak with you.”
My mother’s eyes narrow on me. “About what?”
“My future,” I admit, and I take in every inch of her. Her face is slightly gaunt, but other than looking older with wrinkles around her eyes that have grown deeper, she looks very much as she always has. She’s still in her day clothes and her hair is a little rumpled, like she has been lying down.
I glance at her bed to find the furs slightly askew.
“Well?” she quips, stepping closer. “Don’t dawdle. Speak your piece, child. Though I warn you, you are wasting your breath.”
I shouldn’t bristle at the coolness of her tone, but I can’t help it. “You know I do not wish to marry Harald.”
“Yes, well,” she says, turning away from me. She walks over to her bureau and pours herself a chalice of wine. “There are many things I do not wish for, Thora, but that does not mean they can be changed.”
“You are the queen,” I tell her. “And more than that, you are my mother. Surely, knowing how Harald would treat me, seeing it with your own eyes, you would not wish me to marry a man like him.”
“He is a brute, yes,” she concedes, and she even sounds annoyed with him. “A cunning one at that. But like all wives and marriages, you will serve a purpose when it is required of you. And, inevitably, you will be alone most of the time. You can fill your days however you please, but you do have a role to play.”
“You speak of marriage as if you have ever had a husband—or any man control you, for that matter.”
My mother glares at me, hard. “This has always been your duty, Thora. If not this man, then the next—”
“Then the next, please. I beg you, Mother. Harald is vile—he will not treat me well. He already treats me like I am a toy. A pet he intends to keep on a leash.”
She looks at me, and I see it in her eyes, the desire to care—a modicum of motherly concern and affection, and my chest tightens a little as I hold my breath. I can tell her right now what he did earlier, but I am afraid; I don’t want another confirmation that she doesn’t care.
“Harald has been overreaching,” my mother offers, surprising me. “More than I am comfortable with, and until I can learn how many people in the south he has been turning against me, you will be married to him. You will do what I need until he is dealt with.”
“And if it takes months or years? I am to endure whatever he sees fit?”
My mother reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, a motherly gesture that gives me pause. “He will grow tired of games, and if you are lucky, child,” she says more softly, “he will only visit you when he needs to.” Her arm drops to her side. “I am sending Zander with you. He will keep Harald in check.”
“Zander?” That she would part with her favorite child shocks me. But I know it will not be forever, and short of killing Harald, there is little Zander can do when Harald and I are behind closed doors. “You will not be swayed, then,” I realize, and every last drop of hope drains from me.
“I will not go back on my word, or on my agreement with Harald. We need to keep him happy. The kingdom needs his alliance, what—”
“Whatever the cost,” I finish for her. They are words she’s uttered a thousand times in my life. “Then so it will be,” I whisper, and I blink the sting of tears from my eyes. I force myself to meet her gaze, to remember this moment—the coolness of her expression, the indifferent mask she hides behind, whether it’s genuine or not.
For a moment, I think my mother sees my determination, that she senses I will do something rash, but she says nothing. She doesn’t warn me not to do whatever it is I’m thinking. She just stares back at me in silence.
My mother—the queen—is dying. This should affect me, and yet it hardens me toward her even more. If the gravity in Karra’s voice is true, my mother would send me away, knowing she cannot protect me because she will probably not see another year pass. The queen, Siggy, Zander—they’ve all but fed me to the wolves in order to grasp hold of what little control the crown seems to have left . . . no matter the cost.
When I’ve stared so long that my mother’s expression narrows on me, I swallow thickly, allowing the exhaustion in my bones to consume me. “I am not well,” I say hoarsely, and clear my throat. “I will not be attending the evening meal.”
I expect my mother to put up a fight—to scold me and remind me of my duty, but she seems to think better of it. Or perhaps she is feeling too ill to worry about me right now.
Without another word, I leave the queen’s chamber, closing the door softly behind me.
