She would have to answer to Nanny later if she did otherwise.
Faster than Norah had imagined possible–especially in a storm–water was somehow brought up and heated in a wooden tub that had been set down on the tiled floor of a large guest suite. As the princess’s reference to theGreen Roompromised, the room was all shades of green, trimmed with white. Even better than the tub of water, however, was the large bed in the center of the room. Norah gazed longingly at it the moment she saw it.
“We need to get her in before she catches cold,” Princess Freya said to a female servant who was pouring oils and flower petals into the water. Norah stood beside her, shivering in her nightdress and hoping they would leave soon so she couldclimb inside. But instead, she was unceremoniously stripped of her now ruined nightdress and placed in the tub not only by the servant but by the princess herself.
“I… I can do… it myself,” Norah said through chattering teeth. “Really!”
“I’m sure you could,” the princess answered, “but far be it from me to have it said that the last remaining princess died under my watch because of a ridiculous cold.” But then she paused and whispered something to the servant. The servant nodded, curtsied, and disappeared through the door. As soon as she was gone, Princess Freya locked the door behind her.
Norah blinked. She hadn’t been around royalty since her family had died, but surely, this couldn’t be the usual etiquette when one hosted guests.
The princess went to the wardrobe in the far corner of the room and opened it. “Before you say anything,” she said, perusing its contents, “I want to acknowledge that your reception is more than a little unconventional, and I do sincerely apologize for that.” She kept her eyes on the contents of the wardrobe, and Norah realized that she must be trying to give her some measure of privacy.
Which was… thoughtful, after she’d basically stripped Norah down to her unmentionables and shoved her into the tub, unmentionables and all. Although, now that she was actually in the tub, Norah really didn’t mind too much. The water was deliciously warm, and she had beendreadfullycold.
“But as your family’s… situation was altered irrevocably ten years ago,” the lady went on in a soft voice, “ours was as well.”
Norah’s first instinct was to retort that the other princess’s parents and siblings hadn’t been murdered in front of her eyes as her home was burned to the ground, but there was something haunted in the princess’s expression that kept Norah’s mouth shut.
“I don’t know if you remember,” the woman went on, “butthere was a strange illness that swept through the countryside just before your family died. It attacked children in particular.”
Norah closed her eyes. She remembered.
She remembered well.
That sickness had been the reason the pirates had come.
“My brother took ill soon after the outbreak,” the princess continued. “And at first, we believed he was recovering well. There seemed to be no effects.” She paused, and her jaw tightened, and it was a moment before she seemed able to speak again. “But then he began losing his words…”
Suddenly, the princess drew in a sharp breath and shook her head. “No, we won’t go into that tonight. I’m sure you have a thousand questions of your own, and if we try to sort it all out now, we’ll be up until dawn.” She went over to the bed and began to pat it down. Norah watched curiously as she even reached under the mattress as though making sure nothing was there. But nothing seemed to be there after all, as after a moment, the princess let the mattress drop before fetching a robe for Norah and placing it beside the tub. “Ring the bell on your bedside table in the morning, and Lottie will escort you to breakfast.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Norah said stintingly. It was so strange to speak in the proper tongue she had been raised with but had gone ten years without using.
“Lady Freya now,” the woman said with a softer smile. “I was married years ago. But you may simply call me Freya.” Her smile became sad. “After all, if all had gone as planned, we should have been sisters by now. Goodnight.” And with that, she was gone.
Chapter 6
Morning’s Light
Norah should have fallen asleep immediately after being nearly abducted, escaping barefoot in her nightdress, and getting caught out in a rainstorm where she had to beg for shelter. And what should have made her even more ready for sleep were the additions of the salts and oils the servant had added to her bath.
But sleep never came.
Instead, Norah tossed and turned and wondered where Nanny was and whether she was all right. And in the moments of exhaustion, when Norah’s mind wandered away from Nanny, rather than sleeping, it went to Lady Freya’s cryptic comments about what had gone wrong for the royal family of TiFiore.
What unusual circumstances could the princess have been alluding to? Norah understood what the princess meant when she’d referenced the childhood plague that had swept the coast ten years before. It was that plague that had led to the deaths of her family and the burning of her island. That the prince had been afflicted wasn’t surprising.
No one knew where the illness had come from, only that it attacked children, generally those under the age of twelve. Herparents had worked tirelessly in their effort to heal those who were touched, but their family’s usual gift of healing–the one that had been given to them by the merpeople, and that was sought out by people from all over the world–was nearly powerless to help the afflicted. They had even called in the great Prince Everard Fortier of Destin to help, to see if he could heal the children with his legendary blue fire. Norah had been young, maybe seven or eight, but she remembered the entire island holding its breath the day his ship had arrived.
But in the end, not even the great prince had been able to heal most of those who had been touched by the plague.
“It’s most likely of a malevolent origin,” he had said, frowning as he studied one of the children who had been brought to their island for healing. “Something having to do with Sortheleige.”
“With Sortheleige?” one of Norah’s older sisters had asked.
“A darkness from the recesses of the earth, a power created by the jealousy and hatred of the Maker’s Enemy. But it is powerful, so sometimes humans foolishly try to use it for personal gain.”
His expression had darkened until it was nearly frightening. “My guess is that someone used Sortheleige to create this contagion. And from what I can tell, it disappears quickly. It’s why my fire can’t burn it away unless I find it in the first stage. By the time it appears, there’s nothing left to burn away. It comes quickly, damages the victim, and leaves just as fast.” He’d paused. “It’s almost… almost as if it was designed to change its victims–to stunt their growth. Like a young sapling being bent by the weight of snow in its first winter. The tree can live, but it will be bent forever.” He had sighed. “I can help some of them, but I can’t fix it all. I’m… sorry.”
