Chapter 7 This Girl
This Girl
Norah slept better that night, though whether it was due to not being attacked by pirates or the cook having slipped some sleeping herbs into her bedtime tea, she couldn’t tell.
Either way, she woke up at a more acceptable hour the next morning and made her way to the place where she and Lady Freya had breakfasted the morning before.
A covered plate and tea had been set out on the table, but it was only set for one, and Lady Freya wasn’t there. Norah did, however, notice the prince just below the balcony. Today, however, he stood before a canvas and paints, where he was busy at work.
Her interest piqued, Norah watched him for a long moment.
She couldn’t tell what he was painting, but as there were no others around to offend, Norah did what she knew her mother would have deemed improper, snatching the toast and a piece of fruit off the covered plate and making her way down the spiral staircase.
The morning light was still golden and cool, and Norah shivered as she came to stand behind him. But when she realized what he was painting, she nearly dropped her food.
The work was still young, and many of its features weren’t yet filled in, but Norah knew immediately what he had begun.
It was her own face that looked back at her.
Well, not really back at her. In the picture, she was smiling down at a small white rabbit she and Phillip had seen in the garden the day before. But even this wasn’t simply a reflection of their first walk. This was something more.
Somehow, despite only knowing her for a day, Prince Phillip had captured Norah as she saw herself. Or rather, how she wanted to see herself.
Rather than the dark, nondescript colors that Nanny had always made her wear, in the painting, Norah was wearing a bright green dress. Her red curls were wild and untamed, and her nose had far too many freckles to be considered appropriate for a royal.
“I remember this girl,” she whispered, a lump suddenly rising in her throat.
Phillip turned and raised his eyebrows at her. And when he didn’t look away, she sighed and gave him a sad smile. “She died ten years ago with her family.” She looked back at the painting and swallowed again. “She had to.”
The prince studied her a moment longer, his deep brown eyes probing hers. When he turned back to the painting, though, Norah was the one studying him, and she was hit with a sudden conviction.
She was right when she said that this version of her–the one in the painting–had died with her family. She wondered how much of that girl he remembered, as they had met a few times prior to their betrothal.
And it made her wonder. If she could paint him the way he was painting her, what version of Phillip would she put on the canvas? Had he talked a lot? Or had he been quiet before the illness struck him? How many extra years had he aged simply by surviving?
It also struck her, as he began to add a darker green to shade the edges of her gown, how lonely he must be. To observe so much and not be able to express it any other way than through art…
Lady Freya had been right. He really was quite clever.
She walked to the side and studied him, trying to see him the way he had seen her.
His wide shoulders and muscled legs–for they really were too muscled to be ignored, impertinent a thought as that might be–were a testament to how dedicated he had remained to living even after his illness. And somehow, despite losing so much, he still smiled.
As she thought this, Norah was struck with shame at how often she had complained of her own trials using the very words that had been denied him. How was it possible that she smiled so much less?
They remained outside for another hour. Then, as though some silent bell had been struck, servants appeared and began to remove his painting supplies.
Phillip looked up at her and smiled politely before holding out his arm as he always did now.
Norah took it and found herself led into a part of the palace that she hadn’t yet seen, but one that intrigued her all the same.
Apparently, the palace had a second library.
But this one was much larger than the first, and while the walls were covered in shelves of books, she realized upon examining them that they were of a very dry variety–law books and historical documents.
There were also several large wooden writing tables scattered about the room.
Phillip led her to a large cushioned chair that sat before a blazing fire.
Once she was seated, he made his way over to the nearest writing table and began to look through the stack of parchments sitting in its center.
Not two minutes later, they were joined by Lady Freya, her husband, and a round man with round spectacles.
“Your Highness!” the man stuttered when he spotted Norah. “These are sensitive documents we’re about to discuss!” He turned to Lady Freya. “Surely you can’t mean for a stranger to sit in on this meeting!”
Norah wasn’t offended by his objection. She herself was surprised they would allow her to attend any sort of meeting that involved secrets of the state.
Not even her parents had allowed her in on such meetings when she was small.
So it was even more surprising when Sir Oliver answered in a surprisingly frosty voice.
“Sir Callen, surely you recognize our guest.”
Sir Callen frowned at Norah again, squinting several times through his spectacles before his eyes flew open wide and he threw a meaty hand over his mouth.
“No! But it can’t be!”
“It is,” said Lady Freya firmly. “And I suggest you show the princess the respect due her title.”
Phillip was now openly frowning at the man, but Sir Callen seemed so shocked that he didn’t even notice the prince, which only seemed to annoy Phillip more.
Norah bit back a smile. It was the first time she’d seen him look so thunderous, and that he was out of sorts on her behalf after only a day of her company seemed nearly ludicrous.
But then again… if she had been in his position, and there was only one person with any hope of breaking her silence, she’d be annoyed too if someone tried to run that person off.
They began discussing kingdom issues after that, and were soon joined by several other people, each nearly falling over when they realized who Norah was.
But Lady Freya’s demand of secrecy concerning Norah’s presence was delivered severely enough that each left with a healthy dose of fear when the meeting was adjourned.
What Norah found more interesting than their interest, however, was Phillip’s determination to take part in running the kingdom.
He couldn’t speak, write, or even nod or shake his head, it seemed.
But when someone would ask him a question, he would quickly shuffle through the papers or maps or whatever they had been discussing and point to the answer, and Norah’s chest tightened with emotion as she watched him.
This man, if any, deserved to be king.
Norah stood and began to walk the room, looking as though she were studying the books on the shelves.
But in her mind, she was plotting. If Phillip could exert himself so as to be a part of his own kingdom, despite being bereft of most communication, surely she could think of ways to get to know the man behind his smile.