Page 4 of The Masked Princess

“Are you sure? The king will surely hear about this.”

“I’m positive,” Annalise said firmly. “There is no chance we can dispose of the body as we are, and if we try to cover it up or just leave it, word will get out eventually. I don’t want to cause panic if rumors arise that there’s another cursed one in the town. This way, everyone will know it was only me.”

“Some will be afraid of you, even more than they are now.”

“It can’t be helped.” Annalise looked directly at the charred corpse. “If that man had been more afraid of me, he would still be alive now. Perhaps he can serve as a lesson to anyone else who may wish to use me for their own gain.”

Priscilla moved to her side and stared down at the body as well. She nudged it with her foot, then shuddered when pieces broke off like clods of dry dirt. “Surely you don’t think there will be more, do you?”

“I hope not… but I’ve also hoped for years that someone would rid me of this curse, and I fear that sometimes hope can only go so far.”

Priscilla looked like she was about to say something else, but heavy footsteps at the entrance of the alley announced the arrival of their guards. Princess Annalise drew herself up to her full height and mentally prepared herself for a difficult afternoon.

CHAPTER 3

After a rather unpleasant hour, in which Annalise had to explain what happened no less than three times to her personal guards, the captain of the palace guards, and then the captain of the city guards, she was finally escorted back to the castle.

Even after reaching the safety of her room, her hands still hadn’t completely stopped shaking. Annalise didn’t dare pick up her embroidery, for fear of pricking herself on the needle, but she was more than capable of working on her loom while Priscilla drew her bath. The repetitive work helped to banish the last of the shakes and clear her mind, and she was almost calm by the time Priscilla re-entered the room and declared her bath ready.

As was their custom, Priscilla unlaced Annalise’s gown, then moved aside to let her step out of her dress. The stone floor was smooth and cold to her feet, and she shivered. The bathroom window was open to allow light in, but a large brazier was placed in front to help ward off the cold. Priscilla had taken great care to keep the brazier away from the plants next to the windowsill; they were Annalise’s personal collection of herbs—small pots of lavender, rosemary, sage, and a miniature rose gifted by a foreign ambassador passing through Dovea on his way to a larger country to the west. The plants helped keep the bathroom fresh, filtered the air, and provided an attractive splash of green amongst all the stone and wood. Annalise undid her undergarments and folded them neatly on a chair before stepping into the hot bath, which Priscilla had sprinkled with dried rose petals and rosemary.

“You spoil me, Priscilla. Thank you,” Annalise said as she pushed one petal below the water and watched it float back up.

“It’s the least I can do, Your Highness, after the day you’ve had.” Priscilla paused, one foot out of the room. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

For any other lady in her father’s court, it wouldn’t have been a question. They were frequently pampered by their maids—their hair and feet washed and hands, neck, and shoulders massaged daily, but before Priscilla even had the chance to shift her weight onto her other leg, Annalise was shaking her head and sliding further into the water.

“No, you know the rules.”

“Are you sure? If it’s just your wet hair, surely there’s no harm? I can wear gloves, just in case.”

Annalise shook her head again, thankful that at least she didn’t have to wear the mask in her quarters, so Priscilla could see the determination on her face. “Not today.”

With a curtsy and a dip of her head, Priscilla left Annalise to her bath, no doubt busying herself setting out Annalise’s dress and accessories for dinner and tidying the outer chambers.

Once the bathroom door shut, Annalise allowed herself a moment’s peace. She trailed her fingers through the water in the bronze tub and watched the floating flower petals bob on the ripples before starting to wash her hair and body. As she lathered and rinsed, she reflected that in some ways, she and the dandelions she picked earlier were quite similar. While they were used as medicinal plants or food, no one picked dandelion flowers for their beauty or cared for them for other reasons. Likewise, no matter how well she played her role as dutiful princess and helped the people of her kingdom, nothing would change the fact that her father only tolerated her because he had no better option.

It hadn’t always been so. As the only child of the King of Dovea and his foreign queen, Annalise was the darling of the entire kingdom and lacked for nothing growing up.

How far she’d fallen. Even though she was the sole heir to the Dovean crown, her curse rendered her unable to be touched and thus unable to bear children. There were no other male descendants of her father’s line. His older brother had died tragically in a hunting accident in his youth, and his younger sister had so far only borne two girls. Without her curse, Annalise’s hand in marriage would have been a prize fought over by any eligible bachelor. With it, she was about as useful in matters of succession as a hairless sheep. With minimal protection from her father, and no protection from anyone else—her mother’s people had never reached out after her death, and her paternal aunt was already gathering support around her uncursed daughters—Annalise’s position in court was tenuous at best.

She prayed every night that the Goddess would cure her, and woke disappointed every morning when nothing changed.

A knock on the door had her rushing to rinse off. She hurriedly stepped out of the bath, mostly dried off, then donned her plain undergarments and braided her long blonde hair before wrapping it into a low bun. Once ready, she opened the door, and Priscilla rushed in with her arms full of clothes.

As she waited for her maid to lace up the back of her dress, Annalise smoothed her hands over the fabric. “This is beautiful, Priscilla.”

The cloth was russet brown like an autumn forest, with gold thread stitched in the pattern of oak leaves along the edge of the sleeves and front of the bodice. The sleeves were long enough they covered her hands, which would soon be hidden away in long gloves.

“I had it specially made for you from the fabric I saw you eyeing in the market the last time we were there.”

Annalise’s heart skipped a beat. “The one from the new merchant?” She remembered perusing the new stock on market day the month before and admiring how the woolen fabrics were so soft they could be mistaken for silk. “But, Priscilla, I told you it was far too expensive.”

“You are only child of your father—the man who, if rumors are true, plans to unite four kingdoms and now calls himself the Serpent King behind closed doors. How can he be a king if his daughter and heir dresses like a commoner?”

“My wardrobe isn’t that bad.” Annalise frowned.

No matter how much she loved seeing fine fabrics during her occasional foray into the marketplace or how often she dreamed of beautiful gowns, she rarely could justify the cost. The common people of Dovea were struggling under the king’s taxes, and she hated the idea of flaunting the Crown’s wealth when so many went without. It was at times like this that she was almost jealous of Priscilla; her maid was approximately the same age but always seemed to wear her dresses with a certain flair for style that went far beyond the cloth or cut of her clothes. For someone like Annalise, who’d spent years cultivating a quiet demeanor so as to appear as non-threatening as possible, Priscilla’s poise and confidence was a breath of fresh air.