She felt a small wave of shame as she thought of the trouble she’d put her family through. It had all started at a summer party to celebrate the sixteenth birthday of the crown princess, and she’d been wandering amongst the birch trees at the edge of the gardens.
It caused her father no small amount of pain that his eldest daughter shunned the spotlight of society and royal obligation. Noreen had argued endlessly, not only with her parents but Coreen as well, that it wasn’t her fault she’d been born five minutes earlier than her sister. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t suited to rule. Because of her tearful pleas, the ceremony naming her crown princess on their sixteenth birthday had been held in secret, with only the old bishop, her parents and Coreen in attendance. To the rest of the world Coreen was the crown princess, and Noreen had no intention of ever spoiling the perception. Why couldn’t Coreen and Fader play along? Moder had long ago thrown up her hands and refused to discuss the old argument at all.
Identical twins. It had been a good joke from the beginning. Fader had been more than happy to let the world believe one daughter had died. Only one was ever presented to the people at a time and she was always called simply The Princess. Never were their names used. Noreen suspected half the time, at least until they passed the age of five, her father couldn’t tell them apart. By then they’d developed distinct personalities and very individual traits were making themselves well known. Enough to confuse the few correspondents allowed into the palace. The growing collection of sisters just made the confusion worse. In effect, the young princesses became invisible to anyone outside the private household. The queen also insisted on keeping her daughters, and the daughters of the two concubines, secluded as much as possible. In truth, Noreen wondered if the people knew just how many children the king had and they supported.
While her half sisters might not be eligible to be called Princess, they were given their own titles upon their age of majority. Loreen and Doreen were Duchesses and the others were Countesses, each with their own properties and incomes. And all were married now, with the exception of herself and Coreen.
Which brought her back to the reason she was here under protest. Fader was dying, or so Cory had implied, and she wanted to marry. The old bishop insisted Noreen come home and fulfill her destiny as The One. Nordia had a right to know the true princess.
Like bloody Hell would she let them make that announcement. She was home to renounce her title once and for all. Let Coreen carry on as next in line, as she was born to do.
Noreen’s eyes grew heavier, the constant grinding groan of the transport lulling her into sleep. She pulled the hood of the parka up around her head to further block out the noise and the lights from the panels. Might as well get some sleep now, because she sure wasn’t going to share that man’s bed tonight, destiny or no. If he was too stupid to put the name clues together then so be it. But, in his defense, since half the girl children born on Nordia over the last twenty-six years were similarly named, maybe the resemblance of her name to Coreen’s didn’t stand out so much. How to hide in plain sight. Maybe her father had done her a favor after all. He certainly hadn’t done himself one.
She settled into a restless doze, segments of dreams mixing with her thoughts. Once again she wandered the birch grove behind the summer palace.
The ceremony had taken place early that morning, the crown of gold, encrusted with every gem known to man, rested heavily on her head as she bowed to the bishop. She’d tried three or four times to remove the crown and put it on Coreen’s head until her father had held her shoulders as she knelt to accept the benediction sealing her to the throne of Nordia for all time. The only reason she repeated the vows was a deal she’d made with her father. She’d have to serve as Queen for one full year before she could abdicate in favor of her sister. And then it would be done quietly, Coreen stepping in as if she’d been queen all along. The twin thing again. It didn’t make sense to her. If they could do it then, why not now? At least the world now knew the Crown Princess as Coreen. Another sign to Noreen they were catching on she had no intention of ever ruling.
Both her father and sister had rolled their eyes and tried to explain, once again, why having two appear as one was good for keeping the monarchy safe. Like there’d ever been death threats.
A quelling look from the old bishop had silenced her protests—whines he’d called them—and she’d repeated her vows as he sprinkled sacred water from the heart of the planet on her and recited old chants. For a brief moment she’d had a vision of the gods, Odin, Thor and Freya in the forefront, smiling down on her, welcoming her to the ranks of royalty, soft melodic tunes wafting like a dream through the chamber. The vision faded with the sound of Thor’s Hammer ringing in her ears. Later she told herself it was merely a hallucination. One she could never seem to talk about with Coreen, oddly enough, even to this day. Her father understood, and even then it was difficult to speak of with him. He’d merely patted her on the head, told her it was the proper order of things and to get used to the idea.
While the others gathered for cake and the specially-hoarded champagne to celebrate, the heavy crown once again locked in the vault, she’d snuck off to walk the groves. Something profound had happened and she didn’t understand. It was then she came upon the old bishop looking as if he’d been waiting for her.
“You are The One,” he’d told her, his ancient eyes sparkling like silver stardust. “You have been chosen and anointed personally by the gods.”
“What?” She stopped in her tracks and stared up at the old man with the wild, bushy, white beard.
“‘Tis a great honor, Princess, one you would do well to heed. Your consort is on his way to meet you as we speak.”
“Consort? Who is he? I have no choice?” Horror at the very thought chilled what little warmth the sun had imparted. It felt as if they were in the dead of winter and not high summer. “I’m only sixteen! I can’t marry now!”
“He doesn’t yet know he is The One for you. The blessing will soon be revealed to him. For now, he thinks he is coming only to claim his duchy.”
“He is coming here?” She looked around wildly, thinking he might leap from the trees.
“He will arrive within the fortnight depending on weather. He travels by traditional means.”
“Slow boat, in other words,” she’d muttered. Was his duchy so impoverished he couldn’t afford a proper transport? “Who is he?” she demanded.
“I cannot tell you, Your Highness, you two will have to discover each other on your own. I only know he travels to be here. You will be married within the year.”
Noreen’s jaw had dropped in a most undignified manner. Married within the year? She was just sixteen! Her mother had been twenty when she married the king ten years her senior. “Never!” she shouted as she backed away. “I won’t! I won’t do it!”
The old man had merely gazed at her with those mystical eyes. “Never say never, Your Highness. Your fate was sealed today. You have no choice but to fulfill your destiny.”
With those dreadful words he’d turned and disappeared into the grove.
She’d returned and pretended to mix in the celebration, before fleeing to her rooms. By midnight, she’d packed a bag and bribed a footman into finding transport back to Ryadstholm for her and her newly hired personal secretary, Fiona. Ryadstholm was the largest city near Summer Island. From there, Fiona had found them an outbound luxury cruiser and, by morning, they’d been on their way to anywhere warm.
Thinking she’d get over her temper tantrum sooner, her mother had talked her father into calling off the royal security service he’d sent out to haul her back. Instead, he’d sent a maid