Norah's Innocence

“You idiot. What were you thinking?” The voice was harsh and angry, immediately catching Norah’s attention. The sound vibrated through the thick wooden wall beside her. She stopped walking, ears straining to hear more, but the next set of voices grew muffled, as if they had realized their mistake. One of them she recognized instantly - her father, Duke Fernad.

She took a few steps forward, then stopped, realizing her heeled shoes clicked against the wooden floor. It was unlady-like to eavesdrop, she knew, but from the sound of her father’s voice, this was serious. And she couldn’t stop herself from being curious. She lifted her feet one after the other, slow and careful, trying not to make a sound as she edged closer.

“I didn’t plan for this,” another voice replied, worried and defensive. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” Norah tried to place the voice before realizing it had to be her father’s steward, Hayes.

“That doesn’t matter,” Fernad said. “It happened.”

A brief silence followed.

“Do you have any idea what will happen if this gets out?” he continued. “If anyone connects it back to us?”

“I’ll handle it,” Hayes said quickly. “I swear it, my lord.” Norah stopped, her body pressed against the edge of the wall that rounded the corner toward the voices.

“You’re already too late.” Fernad’s voice dropped, colder now. “The truth has a way of surfacing, and when it does, we need someone else in place.”

“…Someone else?”

“A fall-back. Someone expendable. Just go and do exactly what you’re told.”

A rush of footsteps followed, moving away, then the sharp sound of a door slamming shut. Norah’s pulse quickened. What truth?And what did he mean by a fall-back person? She sneaked a peek around the corner and found the corridor empty. Fernad must have retreated into his study while Hayes hurried off. A dull ache settled in the pit of her stomach, as if warning her something was wrong. She wanted desperately to confront her father, but she knew he wouldn’t answer. Their relationship had been… strained, as of late.

Straightening her back, Norah continued down the corridor, following the path Hayes had likely taken toward the main staircase. She didn’t see him anywhere; wherever he was headed, he’d been in a hurry. She tightened her grip on the box in her arms. The cool ceramic snapped her back to her original purpose. Whatever this was, she could investigate later. Right now, her little cousin was waiting.

She took a deep breath and descended the stairs to the front entrance, where a carriage awaited her. Her deep indigo and purple, low-waisted gown gleamed in the afternoon sun. She adjusted the chained circlet resting against her forehead, then stepped inside. Without a word to the footmen, the carriage lurched forward.

It bounced and jostled along the stony path to the main street before turning toward the palace. Still, Norah couldn’t pull her thoughts away from the conversation she’d overheard. She couldn’t fathom what it had been about. Hayes oversaw her father’s business, the Scheppink Group, which handled a variety of ventures, including the buying and selling of antiques among the nobility. Its success had brought the family a favorable reputation, one that eventually led to Fernad’s sister marrying the current king of Holz. Once merely a viscount, Fernad had become a duke.

Could it have been about the business? Norah wondered. As Fernad’s only child, she’d been granted some leeway in learning the inner workings of the Scheppink Group and understood the complications it often carried. Yet, deep in her gut, she knew this wasn’t something so simple.

It wasn’t long before the carriage came to a stop, and Norah stepped down, taking the footman’s hand for support. She looked up at the palace, a place she had known for as long as she could remember. The lead chamberlain and a few other servants greeted her at once, bowing as she passed.

Inside, the palace wrapped around her in a cool embrace, a welcome relief from the heat. Norah followed the familiar corridors and staircases, passing banners, portraits of past queens and kings, and other ornate decorations.

Her destination was a single, spacious room. The door stood wide open as she approached, and inside sat a twelve-year-old girl at a small table - Princess Amora. Her curly dark hair was pulled back into a low bun, and she wore a gown trimmed with frills and lace in shades of yellow and light blue.

When Norah entered, the girl turned and immediately brightened. “Norah! You’re here.”

“Good afternoon, little Amora.” Norah smiled as she crossed the room and set the ceramic box on the table. It caught Amora’s attention at once.

“What’s that?”

Norah nudged it toward her. “Open it and find out.”

Amora eagerly grabbed the box and lifted the lid, while Norah’s gaze drifted around the room. It was a familiar place - almost a nursery of sorts, one Amora had occupied since birth. Her eyes lingered on the fireplace, intricate with carved knobs and animals along the mantle. Norah brushed her fingers across the smooth wood, pausing over one of the knobs.

She was tempted to press it. To hear that soft click she remembered so well. It had been the day her life changed, the moment the hidden compartment revealed itself, and she’d discovered the thin leather journal that once belonged to the Twenty-First Queen Lefatiah.

Amora’s ancestor.

Norah turned back as Amora held up her gift, face glowing. A silver brooch rested in her palm, set with a purple gem at its center. “This is so pretty! Is it supposed to represent the Purple Diamond?”

“It is,” Norah said, returning to the table and sitting beside her.

She wanted desperately to tell Amora everything. About the secrets she’d uncovered, the truths her ancestors had tried to bury with them. About the legend of the Purple Diamond, a jewel said to hold power enough to topple or raise entire nations. But Amora was still too young. Not ready for truths that dangerous.

The diamond had vanished decades ago without a trace, and Norah intended to find it. Her love for magic drove her to seek out ancient artifacts and forbidden books, though it was a passion few shared. Least of all her father.

Maybe one day, she thought, I’ll tell her everything.

Sometimes Norah found herself worrying about Amora’s future. As the king’s only child, she was the sole heir to the throne, and the court was not kind to the unguarded. Not with the sort of people who lingered there.

Amora pinned the brooch to her dress and looked up, smiling. “Thank you, Norah. So, do you have any new stories?” She leaned forward eagerly, making Norah laugh.

“Of course,” Norah said. “Now sit back and listen to the tale of the princess and the witch.”

Amora leaned back at once, eyes wide and attentive, as Norah began.

-

It was a long afternoon of storytelling with Amora, much like any other day, warm, comforting, and familiar. Yet on the carriage ride back to her estate, the conversation she’d overheard earlier crept back into Norah’s thoughts. The more she replayed it, the more she wondered how she might uncover the truth behind it.

When the carriage came to a stop and she stepped down, her decision was already made. She would check her father’s study. Curiosity had begun to itch at the edges of her mind, impossible to ignore.

Norah moved briskly through the mansion, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, until she stopped before the door to her father’s study. She hesitated. He might be inside, or he might not. Either way, this could end badly.

She drew in a steadying breath and knocked.

Silence answered her.

After a moment, she knocked again, just to be certain. Still nothing. Carefully, she reached for the doorknob and turned it. It gave way easily. Norah peered inside. The study was empty, cold, and dimly lit by the fading glow of the setting sun through the windows. She stepped in quickly and closed the door softly behind her.

There was an oak desk, tall bookshelves, and the familiar arrangement of furniture she had known since childhood. Norah moved toward the desk, unsure of what she was even searching for, if she was searching at all, when something caught her eye. A sliver of dark leather protruded from between two books on the shelf behind the desk.

She froze.

Norah knew this study like the back of her hand. Every ledger, every decorative volume, every place her father hid things he didn’t want disturbed. She had never seen that before. The leather looked worn, the edge bent slightly, as if it had been shoved into place in a hurry.

Her heart began to pound. Slowly, she reached out and pulled it free. It was a leather folder, heavier than she expected. Inside was a thick stack of papers, unevenly arranged. Her fingers tightened around it as she carried it to the desk and set it down, the sound far too loud in the quiet room. She hesitated only a moment before opening it.

The first few pages were financial reports of the Scheppink Group. Transaction records, shipments, dates. Norah frowned, skimming faster as unease crept up her spine. Some of the numbers didn’t make sense to her, but the volume of them did.

Then she reached the letters.

Her stomach dropped.

They were written in a careful, formal hand, sealed with her father’s mark she recognized from court briefings. One particular name appeared again and again. One she never thought she would read.

The Emperor of the Empire Diamant. A nation not on easy terms with the Holz Kingdom. Constant wars, uneasy peace treaties, back and forth with no signs of going away.

Norah’s breath caught as she read on. There was constant correspondence between the emperor and Fernad, talking about a partnership and ‘funding.’ Things she didn’t quite understand. Her hands began to tremble as a thought settled in, cold and sharp.

Her father was a traitor.

No. No, this can’t be right.

Why were these documents here? In her father’s study? A dozen possibilities raced through her mind, none of them comforting. Was her father involved? Or perhaps - was he being framed?

She didn’t realize she was moving until the folder snapped shut beneath her hands. Norah clutched it to her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears. She had to hide it. She knew that much, even if she didn’t know what came next.

She slipped out of the study and closed the door behind her just as softly as she’d entered, her steps quickening as she moved down the corridor.

“Lady Norah.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin.

A servant stood nearby, head bowed. “Captain Peyton has arrived. He wishes to speak with you.”

Her heart lurched.

“I - thank you,” Norah said, forcing her voice steady. “Please ask the captain to wait. I’ll join him shortly.”

The servant bowed and departed. Norah exhaled shakily and looked down at the folder in her arms. She couldn’t see the captain like this. Not holding something that could ruin lives, including her own.

She turned and hurried to her room, locking the door behind her. With trembling hands, she opened the hidden compartment in her dresser, one she hadn’t used in years, and tucked the leather folder inside. She closed it carefully, as if the documents might scream if mishandled.

Breathe.

She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and forced her pulse to slow.

Then, with a mask of calm firmly in place, Norah left her room and made her way to the guest tearoom to meet Captain Peyton, hoping he couldn’t hear how loudly her heart was still pounding.

Peyton was younger than Norah had expected, perhaps ten years her senior, but there was nothing soft about him. His posture was rigid, his eyes sharp as they followed her every movement as she sat across from him in the guest tearoom. He asked polite questions at first. About her studies. About her time at court. Then the questions shifted.

“How involved are you with the Scheppink Group?” he asked.

Norah felt her shoulders tense. “My father allows me to assist where I can,” she replied carefully. “I’ve looked over the books on occasion.”

“Alone?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I try to be helpful.”

As Peyton continued, a cold realization crept in. He wasn’t circling her father. He was circling her. Each question tightened the invisible snare, each pause stretching just long enough to be unsettling.

“Captain,” Norah finally said, meeting his gaze, “may I ask what this is about?”

Peyton studied her for a moment. “There’s information I’m looking into,” he said. “That’s all I can say.” Then he stood. “I’ll be back after I’m done with some other investigations. Thank you for being so cooperative.”

After he left, the pit in Norah’s stomach returned, sharper this time. She barely waited before hurrying back toward her room to retrieve the documents. But she hadn’t gone far when voices stopped her cold, coming from down another corridor.

“…continue forging them,” her father’s unrecognizable voice said quietly. “Sign them under Norah’s name.”

Norah’s breath caught.

“My lord,” Hayes said, uncertain, “but she’s your daughter.”

“She is a witch in disguise,” Fernad replied. “She will serve her purpose.”

They walked away, their voices fading in the distance. Norah couldn’t move, their words echoing in her mind.

The world tilted. Tears burned her eyes as understanding slammed into place. The documents weren’t lies. They were the truth. And her father intended to bury her beneath them.

Her thoughts spiraled to Peyton. Would he believe me? She had proof, hiding right in her room. But if Peyton was already aligned with Fernad…

No. She couldn’t risk it.

The king was not an option either; a tyrant with a temper, surrounded by those already bought. Although she couldn’t imagine he would be pleased to discover that Fernad was dealing with his most hated rival, she knew the king’s temper. Knew his arrogance. He was most likely not going to believe her because she was a woman. And the rest of the court wasn’t any better.

As her fear settled, something else rose in its place - clarity.

If no one will believe me now, she thought, then maybe they will later.

There was one last hope left. Amora.

One day, she would be queen. One day, she could tip the scales.

Norah wiped her tears and hurried into action. In her room, she gathered the journal of Queen Lefatiah and her own journal, which held careful notes on the Purple Diamond, and began to write: letters, riddles, and codes only Amora would understand. She then dressed for travel, packed the items, and slipped out of the mansion. She rushed to the stables, saddled one of the horses, and rode into the night, toward the palace once again. Instead of heading straight for the main gate, she tied her horse near the servant’s gate and sneaked in.

She hid her legacy piece by piece; within secret compartments, behind fireplaces, in hidden rooms built by kings long dead. She knew of these places from years of research. Years of dedication.

Now, she trusted Amora to find them. Years from now. And hoped she would understand.

The documents were the last piece. Passing the darkened ballroom, Norah stopped at the great black cauldron, cold, ancient, and almost forgotten. A symbol of hope no one believed in anymore.

She knew no one would look there, and no one could ignite a fire within it. It was a type of old magic no one understood anymore. She threw the bundle over the rim, and it landed inside with a dull thud.

Then she ran.

She sprinted back toward the servant’s gate, hoping no one would recognize her, hoping no one was watching. When she reached her horse, she nearly let out a sigh of relief, until a voice cut through the air.

“Arrest her!”

Her head snapped to the right. A band of heavily armed soldiers stood there, all heading straight for her.

Panic surged. Norah mounted her horse and fled.

She didn’t look back, but their voices chased after her.

“Don’t let her escape!”

They pursued her through the city, while her father’s words echoed in her mind. Witch in disguise.

She wanted to cry. The pain inside her was too great.

But survival demanded she keep going.

She burst through the west gate before it closed for the night, arrows striking the ground behind her, missing her by mere inches.

They were trying to kill her. Why?

She urged her horse faster, until another group of soldiers appeared ahead, blocking the bridge. She veered left and instantly realized her mistake. Yanking the reins, she brought her horse to a halt at the edge of a ravine.

She searched desperately for a way out when her horse suddenly reared and whinnied. She looked down and saw an arrow embedded in its thigh. Before she could react, the horse bucked violently, throwing her off balance.

The world spun.

Her body felt weightless.

As she looked up at the dark blue sky, her thoughts turned to Amora - her bright, innocent eyes, her contagious smile.

And the hope that one day, she would become a better ruler than her father.

And that the truth would rise with her.