Page 45 of The Masked Princess

There was a moment of total stillness, then a roaring round of applause from the other guards, several of whom rushed to join the line of challengers.

Soren laughed and opened his arms to the new additions. “Come to join in the fun, I see? Well, if you’re all up for a trouncing, then who am I to say no?”

Soren took on challenger after challenger. A few were more skilled than the others, but none lasted long against his speed and skill.

Annalise knew Soren was talented—when they were children he’d complained about his weapons tutors, and she’d gotten glimpses of his fight against the bandits. But here, in the middle of the winter woods amid a light dusting of falling snow, she found herself completely entranced. He moved like a snake, coiling and uncoiling his limbs as if they were made of springs, and he danced through the firelight like a hummingbird darting through the air. When he was midway through the line of challengers, he called for a moment’s rest.

“What do you think so far?” he asked as he sat on the stump next to hers, a water skin in his hand. The only sign of exertion was the faintest sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes, which still danced with energy.

“You’re very good. That was quite impressive,” Annalise said.

He leaned back on one hand. “I’m still very rusty from my injury and not as fast as I normally am, but thank you for your kind words.”

“I remember how much you complained about your father forcing you to do all those lessons when we were children, but it looks like it paid off. Do you think it was all worth it?”

Soren sucked on his teeth as he stared into the fire. “It was a lot of pressure on a young boy’s shoulders. If my mother was there, she’d probably have put a stop to it, or at least let me play more with other children…” He shook himself and turned back to her, his smile bright. “But honestly, if I had to do it all over again, I would. For years, the thought of you was my guiding light, pushing me to better myself and to achieve greater things. If I had the choice, I’d choose to take every scrape and cut again if it meant that I’d grow strong enough to protect you. In that respect, it was worth every second.”

He leaped to his feet and bowed to her before he trotted off to finish taking on the challengers.

As Annalise sat on the stump and watched Soren flow through his footwork, something about his words haunted her. It was only as he ended his last challenge with a final flourishing bow toward her that the thought solidified.

Soren had suffered through hours and weeks and years of practice so that one day he could return to Dovea and take up his sword as her protector.

The thought warmed her more than any bonfire possibly could.

CHAPTER 35

The evening before they reached the Rhinnean capital, Rea, they camped on the side of the mountain. A path through the woods led to a rocky overlook that afforded a view of the valley where the brightly lit city lay. Annalise had walked the path when they made camp, but didn’t stay long—something about seeing the city stretched out before her, nestled on the banks of a large river, made everything feel so much more tangible. Rea was no longer a strange foreign city, an idea that diplomats and generals talked of. Instead, it was real; it was sitting before her, and it reminded her of both her duty and her dreams, which felt more opposed every day. When she returned to the campsite, the sound of laughter and the sight of Soren helping Elsabeth set up her tent made Annalise want to cry.

This was the life she’d longed for—a life surrounded by friends and loved ones. It was the height of misfortune that the dream was ending too soon, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was about to walk into a nightmare.

Long after the evening meal was finished and several of the guards had hunkered down in their tents, Annalise was still up, staring into the fire. She knew they had an early morning the next day, but she wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. The knowledge that she would be joining the Dovean caravan and meeting the man she was to marry burned and buzzed in her veins like her blood had taken the form of red-hot bees. She stared into the fire as the night grew darker, unwilling to move from her perch.

With a sigh, Elsabeth set her knitting to the side and rocked to her feet. “Princess Annalise, I’ve already packed your bags for the morning and they’re waiting right by the door, so don’t worry about any of that. Everything is ready to go at a moment’s notice. Try not to stay up too late. We have a big day tomorrow,” she said before looking at Annalise meaningfully, cutting her gaze to Soren, and then closing the tent flap. The only other people still outside were a few sentries facing the woods, their backs to the camp.

Soren and Annalise sat in silence next to each other on the same log, him sharpening a dagger and her focusing on the small figurine she was whittling. It was a skill she’d picked up in Murana during the long winter evenings in the dining hall to give herself something to do while she spoke with her aunt and learned of her heritage, and the knife had been a parting gift from Helene and her husband, Talen.

Annalise savored the bite of the icy forest breeze against her skin and considered it especially sweet because she didn’t know when she’d be able to sit without any protection again. She tried for the hundredth time to not think about what awaited her in Rhinnea. What if King Nelan didn’t know about her curse? What if the Dovean caravan had been accosted by more bandits on the road? What if the Rhinneans decided she was sent as an assassin and killed her for it? The questions swirled darkly in her thoughts like the shavings curled around the blade of her knife.

Soren broke the silence with a sigh. He set his dagger and whetstone to the side and took her hand in his. Annalise froze and turned to look at him.

“Come with me,” he said, drawing her to her feet.

She could tell by his frown and the intensity in his eyes that he had something to say of grave import, and she followed him as he led her away from the camp and up the short path to the rocky outcropping that afforded a better view of the city below. The night was clear and the moon was nearly full, casting everything in a silvery light. Soren guided them to a smooth portion of the rock.

The air was thick with tension. Annalise hated it—hated the discordant energy that buzzed between them, but she couldn’t think of a way to end it that wouldn’t leave them both heartbroken. She sat, and Soren took the seat next to her, holding her hand in both of his. The moonlight cast a silver sheen over his hair, but there was no disguising the seriousness of his expression.

“Annalise.” At the sound of her name on Soren’s lips, Annalise forgot how to breathe.

“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but if I don’t say something now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” he said, his voice starting out unsure but slowly gaining strength. “Surely you know how I feel about you, how I’ve felt about you ever since we were small children playing knights and ladies in the sunlit gardens in Dovelan.

“I love you, Annalise. I love you like a flower loves the sun, like the tides love the moon, like a bird that loves the wind beneath its wings. It’s not too late. We can sneak away right now, or, if you’d rather, we can wait until first light tomorrow morning. Elsabeth’s already packed your bag, and I can be ready in a handful of minutes. We could go anywhere, could be anything. I can captain a merchant ship, and we can travel the world in search of a cure for your curse, or we can settle down in a sleepy hamlet far away and farm. I’ll work in the fields growing flax and raising sheep, and you can weave it into linen and fine wool. We can be happy together. I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to give you a good life, a happy life, a life full of love and joy.”

Annalise was tempted. Soren’s earnestness dripped from every word he spoke, and turning away from his shining brown eyes, with the lights of the city below reflected in them like a beacon of hope, was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“I can’t,” she whispered, but she couldn’t bear to remove her hand from his.

His hand tightened, and his jaw clenched. “Because of your duty?”