Màthair still had a purpose for Nora to fulfill.
Gingerly she slid her feet off the bed and onto the floor. A flood of memories that were not her own filled her mind. They belonged to the half of her soul that had resided in Elea.
She saw Elea stopping the illegitimate captain from drinking poisoned wine given to himby his half brother, Alexandre. Elea convinced the captain to go with her to Argylly Castle. Nora now knew his name was Gerard Batard. Gerard stabbed Laird Argylly, who was trying to attack Elea. Then Elea was kissing the captain.
Nora shook her head to clear it. She didn’t want to know any more of Elea’s private memories.
She was able to stand, but her legs wobbled like a calf’s-foot pudding. Her wounds had not healed completely: her ankles and wrists smarted, and her stomach felt like it had a hole in it. Because it did. She needed food and she needed trousers. Possibly in that order. Walking to the door, she turned the handle and pushed it open. No footmen stood at either side of her door. No guards. No madams. No noise at all.
There was a strange hush in the halls. The quiet before the battle.
Matteo.
His army was supposed to arrive today, and she wasn’t about to lay around until he did.
With each step, Nora’s footing became steadier. But her stomach, which was already in pain from her wound, was starving. There was nothing like torture and dying to work up an appetite. She made it to the stairs and down to the main floor. There was no one in sight. She passed the reception room, which had been full of extravagantly dressed courtiers on her arrival, but it was also empty. Stumbling her way to the kitchen, she found food left on the tables and pots and pans scattered on the floor.
The servants had left in a hurry. They hadn’t looted. They hadn’t scavenged. Which meant they had been too afraid to take the time.
Nora picked up a baguette and took a large bite from it. The bread was hard, but she was hungry. She took another bite before finding a jug and drinking from it. The cider coated and soothed her dry throat. She took several more drinks before eating a carrot, her strength returning with every bite.
She took one more long swig of the cider before scouring the kitchen for weapons. She found a few short paring knives, which she pocketed, and a nice long butcher knife. Holding the cleaver with both hands, she carefully left the kitchen, looking both ways.
The blasted palace was a maze, but at least she was armed this time. She crept down the halls, heading south, when the silence was broken by several screams and shrieks. Lifting her cleaver, Nora raced toward the noise. She arrived outside the double doors that led to the indoor tennis court.
She heard someone yell, “Help!”
“Let us out!”
“The Sanians are coming.”
“We are all going to die!”
She heard the sound of fists hitting the door and more shrieks. Someone had locked them in.
Nora tried to turn the doorknob, but it was jammed. Taking the cleaver, she hacked at the wood by the handle, creating a small, jagged hole in the door. She peered through it and saw that the room was crowded with hundreds of courtiers. They were in their ballgowns and silk suits. They had probably been in this room the entire night. Some even still wore their white wigs, but their makeup was melting off their faces. She could only see a few of their expressions, but they all appeared to be in distress. Most were crying. Some shrieking. She saw that at least one man had wet himself.
A few courtiers were fighting with their bare hands. Ripping at each other’s hair and clothes. Yelling.
It was a cacophony of cries, but she could not understand what they were saying now. Too many people were speaking at the same time.
Fear turned people into animals.
She watched in horror as a duchess slammed her bloody fists against the door, desperate to get out. A man shoved her out of the way, and the duchess’s head hit the floor, hard. He rammed his shoulder against the doors, but they didn’t budge. The duchess stood up, blood running down her cheek, and tried to push the man out of the way. He shoved back and they slapped at each other with both hands.
Clearly, neither of them knew how to fight.
“Move back,” Nora yelled through the hole, raising her cleaver to hack away at the door. She chipped out a fist-sized piece of wood. Setting down her cleaver, she reached her hand through the hole and found the keyhole. She tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Someone had nailed the door closed from the inside. But who? And why?
The duchess stuck her bloody hand through the hole and toward Nora. “Help me!”
“I am trying to,” Nora said. “What’s happening? Why are you all in there?”
“The Sanians have been beaten our armies at Nance and Cruese,” the duchess cried. “The soldiers who are supposed to be guarding the palace have left. The servants ran for their lives, but our king will not let us leave. He means to use us as a human shield. Please help me. I swear that I have done nothing. Nothing.”
It was true. The woman had done nothing.
Nothing when Nora was laughed at, belittled, and spat at.