Chapter 9: Dancing with a friend
Annalise’s heart skipped a beat and then jumped into her throat at finding Soren so close, his warm brown eyes watching her.
“Hello, Soren, or, I suppose I should call you Lord Soren now, shouldn’t I?” she replied. She smiled, but knew that the only cue he would receive to know she was happy to see him would be the crinkling of her eyes and the lilt in her voice.
Thankfully, he picked up on her tone and smiled in return, leaning close and lowering his voice as if confiding a secret. “I’d actually prefer to be Captain Soren, but to you, just Soren is fine. Will you dance with me?”
Annalise froze. Her eyes darted from his outstretched hand to his smiling face, then back again, until finally she lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. The risk is much too great.”
“What risk?”
She startled at the artless question and looked away—back to her harp and the safety it represented; surely he’d been at court long enough to hear of her curse, if he hadn’t heard of it before. The Soren she’d known was never mean, but him paying her attention and then forcing her to reject him felt borderline cruel, and tears pricked at her eyes for the second time that evening.
“Princess Annalise, my deepest apologies if I offended you. I know I’m not a prince, but I had hoped you would grant your old playmate the favor of one dance. If I was untoward, please forgive me,” Soren said. His voice sounded much closer than she expected. She turned to find him crouching next to her, only an arm’s length away.
“There was no offense taken. I was simply not expecting your offer,” she replied. She ducked her head and lifted her mask ever so slightly to wipe her eyes.
“I’ve made you cry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing; don’t bother yourself with it.”
“If it’s something that bothers you, it’s not nothing.” His expression was so open and warm that she feared if she looked at him for too long she’d forget how to look away.
“Please excuse me. I’m not used to receiving dance requests,” she said as she finished dabbing at her eyes and replaced her mask.
“I see.” He lowered his gaze and watched her hands, which were now resting on the harp in preparation to play once he left. “All of that being the case, it would make my evening immeasurably more fun if you would deign to grant your childhood friend one dance.”
“It’s too risky. My curse–”
“Is not a concern. Even if you hadn’t covered yourself so fully, I’ve taken precautions of my own.” He lifted a hand, and this time Annalise registered the gloves that extended well past his wrist and under the sleeves of his shirt. Speechless, she looked into his face, and his tender smile almost melted her heart. “As you see, I came prepared. So, Princess Annalise, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?” He held out his hand, palm up, as if asking her for a blessing.
She nodded, and with trembling fingers, placed her hand in his.
As the musicians began to play, he drew her to an open spot on the floor. The music was slow and ethereal, a dance more suitable for two partners than a group round or reel. As Soren slid his arm around her waist, Annalise looked past his shoulder to the lead musician who made eye contact with her and nodded, the smallest hint of a grin on his normally taciturn face.
“Already planning your escape, Princess?” Soren asked.
When she looked at him, Annalise almost forgot how to breathe at how handsome he was. Several strands of his reddish-brown hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a rather roguish look that was accentuated by his strong jaw and thick eyebrows.
“If I am to call you Soren, it’s only fair if you call me Annalise,” she said.
His eyebrow quirked, then smoothed, and he shook his head. “You are the princess and I am merely a lowly captain. I would never presume such familiarity.”
“You said earlier that you’d rather be addressed as captain instead of lord. Is there a reason you prefer the lesser title?”
“I would simply prefer to be known for my achievements than my heritage. Seems a waste to be gone for so long and not get something special out of it.”
“One could argue that ‘Lord’ is a more distinguished title. As far as I’m aware, there are many more captains in Dovea than there are lords.”
He chuckled as he swung her to the side. “But how many captain-lords are there? I’d wager not many.”
Annalise moved with him, perfectly in sync. It had been so long since she’d last danced with a partner she feared she’d forgotten the steps, but somehow, dancing with him felt as easy as breathing. “Perhaps I’ll call you Lord Captain Kierson to ease any confusion. I should double-check with our Master of Ceremonies to make sure I’m not committing a faux pas by addressing you in such a way. With my luck, the proper address will be something like Captain Lord Soren Kierson. It’s quite a mouthful, but for propriety’s sake, I’ll manage.”
His laugh was low in her ear and made her want to laugh as well. “As I recall, I told you only a handful of minutes ago to call me simply Soren. You don’t need to stand on such formality with me.”
“Oh, but I do. What will the rest of the court think if they hear me taking liberties with you, Lord Captain Soren Kierson?”
“Whatever they want; it certainly doesn’t bother me. In fact, I hope you take as many liberties with me as you’d like, Crown Princess Annalise of Dovea.”
Annalise looked at him, then glanced away at the intensity in his eyes. She laughed softly to fill the silence. “Then it appears we are at an impasse, although I suppose I can compromise and call you Captain Soren. It isn’t proper at all, but at least you’ll get to keep the title you worked so hard for.”
“I don’t think that’s a fair compromise at all. Just call me Soren, Your Highness.”
“I will if you just call me Annalise.”
“No dice, Princess.”
“I don’t see why it’s a problem—you certainly saw me with torn skirts, scrapes, and mud on my hair enough times when I was a young girl to warrant some familiarity.”
“Yes, but young girls grow up into beautiful ladies who deserve the full dignity of their title.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “Does the curse add to the value or cancel it out?”
“No curse can take away from your value of who you are.” His expression was so earnest she almost believed him.
Soren guided her through the steps of the dance, and something about his hand on her back and her hand in his felt nice, like it was where she belonged. Annalise swallowed and broke their eye contact, focusing instead on his broad chest so she could breathe. “I am very interested in your time abroad. Will you tell me about it?”
“I fear that I have too many stories for one dance, but if you’d like, I can call on you tomorrow and tell you of my adventures.”
“That would be lovely. If you’re not too busy, that is.”
His eyebrows rose. “Busy? What would make you say that?”
“I’m sure after tonight you will find yourself quite inundated with invitations to dine and to walk and to ride. I wouldn’t be surprised if they took up most of your time for the next several weeks. You appear to be quite popular here already.”
He looked over her shoulder, then around the room, and his eyes widened ever so slightly as he saw the attention focused on them that Annalise had felt ever since they first stepped onto the dance floor. “Perhaps the attention is from the lords and ladies of your father’s court who are excited to see their Crown Princess enjoying herself.”
“Trust me, they’re more likely watching out of concern that the new eligible young bachelor will be the next to succumb to my curse and their daughters will be out a potential suitor.”
His arms around her stiffened ever so slightly, as if he wanted to pull her closer. “How do you do it? How do you tolerate their stares and their whispers?”
Annalise shrugged, and her grip on his hand tightened before she forced herself to relax. “They’re not wrong to be cautious. In some ways, I’m grateful they are because it means that I don’t have to worry as much about accidents happening. I couldn’t bear it if someone else was hurt because of me.”
“But what about you? Who will worry about you and take care of you?” His hand on her back shifted, pressing her closer to him, and despite her fears, she didn’t resist. His gaze drilled into hers, then glanced down at her mask. “Who will make sure that you aren’t hiding tears and grimaces behind that mask of yours?”
She was the first to break their eye contact, instead focusing on their intertwined hands, her voice sounding much smaller than she wished. “Such pretty words and sentiments are for women who aren’t cursed.”
With a soft flourish, the music ended. Soren let go of her, and Annalise let her gaze fall to the floor, but before she could curtsy and thank him for the dance, his hand was on her chin and she froze. The contact, even with the gloves, was the first time someone had directly touched her skin in longer than she could remember. Gently, he tilted her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes.
“Make no mistake, Princess Annalise,” he whispered into the silence. “Cursed or not, you are just as deserving of pretty words and heartfelt sentiments as every other woman in this room. You must forgive me; I’m afraid I have been away from court for far too long if you think so poorly of yourself, but don’t fear. I will endeavor to remedy such things posthaste.”