Chapter 42

Despite what he told Annalise, Soren kept the romance novel tucked into his coat and didn’t remove it until he was at leisure the next day, lounging in one of the barrack recreation rooms. He hadn’t read for fun in longer than he could remember, and while the book in front of him seemed to have a bit more focus on feelings and relationships than he would have preferred considering how it made him ache for Annalise, the story itself was an engaging way to pass the time. If nothing else, it helped to keep him from thinking about unsuitable topics like how much he would have liked to punch King Nelan in the library, or how he dearly wished he could have been reading in Annalise’s presence instead of in the barracks. 

Almost immediately after she’d returned to her room the day before, she’d started reading out loud from one of the history books under the pretense of educating herself and her maids. From his vantage point where he stood guard—she’d insisted on keeping the door to her chambers open—Soren appreciated the history lesson, and noticed that even the other Rhinnean guard seemed to nod along in interest during some of the less dry parts.

He wrenched his thoughts away from the sweet, genteel sound of her voice. He knew he had to give Annalise up—she’d been quite adamant that he let her go—but the thought of her belonging to another man felt like a stab in the gut. 

With a snort, he turned his mind back to the pages at hand. 

“I didn’t know that Doveans could read.” 

He looked up in surprise to find a young lady watching him. Her long, dark hair was piled high on her head, styled in a waterfall of curls, and her dress was the light blue of an icy spring. 

“Oh, I don’t, I’m just looking at the pretty pictures so I don’t feel tempted to eat the pages,” Soren replied, holding up the book so she could see that there were in fact no pictures at all lest she think his jesting was serious. Many of the Rhinneans didn’t understand his jokes, a side effect he suspected of having a king whose only sense of humor revolved around causing others pain and embarrassment.

He was rewarded with a laugh that sounded like the ringing of a small bell, and the lady gestured to the chair sitting next to his. “Would you mind if I sat here while I wait for my father? He’s in a meeting.” 

Soren nodded. 

She took the seat and smiled at him. “Thank you. My name is Lady Dakoa Wethernon; I’m afraid that I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Kierson. Captain Kierson,” he said gruffly before returning to his reading. He’d heard whispers of the Rhinnean women who spent time in the parts of the barracks open to the semi-public, ostensibly to watch the men from the windows overlooking the training grounds, but in reality to find husbands from among the eligible bachelors. Far be it from him to prevent someone else from falling in love. 

After a few minutes of silence, Lady Dakoa leaned closer to him and asked what he was reading. 

He showed her, and she tittered in delight. “Oh, how fun! I loved that book, but I fear it’s been so long since I read it. Would you do me a favor, Captain Kierson, and read my favorite part to me?” 

“I fear that my narration skills are frightful, although I can lend you this book if you would rather read it yourself as you sit here?” Soren asked, moving to close the book. 

“Oh no, don’t mind me. I was just hoping to hear it from someone else.” She batted her large brown eyes at Soren, and he deduced she wouldn’t give up on her request easily. 

“Which part was it?” he asked, reasoning that perhaps the best way to move on from Annalise would be to find someone else who might be more able to return his affections. 

She recited a specific chapter number, and Soren flipped to it. He noted with some alarm that it was near the end of the book and he hoped that his chivalry wouldn’t be rewarded with a spoiled ending. 

It was the wrong thing to worry about. 

He began reading, but after a couple of paragraphs his voice trailed off and his cheeks felt like someone had lit them on fire. The words swimming in front of his eyes were of such an explicit nature that he feared merely looking at them would cause the page to burst into flame. 

“Is there a problem, Captain Kierson?” Lady Dakoa asked, leaning forward and calling his attention to the low-cut neckline of her dress, which displayed her assets very nicely. 

Soren’s gaze flicked from her bright eyes and parted red lips down to her heaving chest, then up at the ceiling, and he closed the book. “I’m afraid that I’ve suddenly remembered that I have very pressing matters that require my urgent attention.” 

She pursed her lips and flicked her gaze down his body. “Are these matters something that I could help you with?” 

His face flushed red at her question and the implication behind it. “Absolutely not.” His voice came out much rougher than expected, and he coughed to cover up his discomfort. “It has to do with…uh…the diplomatic relationship between Dovea and Rhinnea. I forgot that our Dovean guards were set to spar with their Rhinnean counterparts tomorrow, and we need to set up logistics. In a meeting. That’s happening right now. Somewhere that’s not here.”

 “In that case, are you sure you can’t tarry here for just a little while longer?”

“Unfortunately, I must go.” Soren thrust the book into her hands. “Here, since you were so interested in the story. I got it from the Royal Library. Just return it when you’re done, please.” 

He left Lady Dakoa without another word or a look back and kept his head down until he was out of the room and down the hall. 

Soren thought nothing further of the strange interaction until the next evening when everyone gathered in the great hall for the evening meal. 

As the ranking officer of the Dovean guards and a nobleman in his own right, Soren was allowed to sit at a table near the edge of the room with the other Rhinnean guards. The company certainly left something to be desired, but when he was halfway done with his food, a well-muscled middle-aged man took the seat next to him.

“It’s been a long time, Kierson. I see that you’re making friends,” a gruff voice said. 

Soren started, and then a wide grin creased his face. “Matheus? Matheus Risebach? Is that you?” 

“In the flesh. Surprised to see me?” Matheus grinned and slapped Soren on the shoulder. “When I last saw you standing on the wharf next to Captain Earon I’d never expected to see you again, let alone somewhere like this.” 

“You and me both. How have you been?” 

“Not bad, not bad. My parents are still kicking around, healthy as horses. Sometimes I wonder if I should have left the ship when I did since they don’t need me after all… but, then again, if I hadn’t maybe I’d still be serving on our eastern border instead of working this cushy job in the capital.” 

Soren took in the other man’s clothes, including the insignia on his shoulder. “Well, it looks like you reached captain after all; perhaps you left just in time.” 

“You may very well be right.” Matheus paused and looked around, then raised his voice so the entire table could hear. “Everyone, this is Captain Soren Kierson. I know we’ve had our issues with the Doveans, but I can personally vouch for this man. He served as a cabin boy under my last captain at sea, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone work so hard. Even when he was seasick, he was trying to clean anything he could reach—holding a vomit bucket in one hand and polishing the deck with the other.” Matheus mimicked the motions, and a few of the men sitting around them laughed. Matheus shook his head and his fork at the man sitting across from him. “He may be a Dovean, but you won’t find a better man anywhere. He’s loyal to a fault, smart as a whip, and could probably take on any of you lot with one hand tied behind his back.”

“Say what you want, but his father is still the Dovean High General,” one of the guards near the end of the table sneered. 

“Is that so? Did his father personally wrong you?” Matheus stared at the guard and waited until he shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Look, we’ve been at peace for over twenty years and the current Dovean heir is sitting on our dais and pledged to marry King Nelan. Personally, I say let bygones be bygones. We’ve all got too much to do to hold grudges.” Matheus’s voice dropped, and the surrounding guards leaned in closer. “Plus, if you ask me, giving the head of the princess’s guard a hard time is a great way to make a powerful enemy.” Before anyone else could respond, Matheus dug into his food and started talking to the man seated on his other side about a sighting of a wolf pack around Rea. 

The guards around Soren relaxed infinitesimally, their expressions turning from glowers and glares into frowns, and when he asked one to pass the salt, they did so without making him ask several times or pretending to throw the shaker at his head. Still, he didn’t push his luck. While the others talked and jested freely with each other as they drank more ale, Soren kept a pleasant look on his face and kept to himself. He was grateful for the chance to keep an eye on Princess Annalise and gauge how she was doing instead of being relegated to the barracks to take his meals with the other Doveans. 

An ember of jealousy burned in his chest when he saw her laugh at something King Nelan said. Alaric the healer had told him several disturbing stories about Nelan he’d picked up during his journey through rural Rhinnea. The rumors spoke of a man who hid his terrible cruelty and capricious nature behind an easy smile and generous purse, and after the scene with Ambassador Selveg and the brief meeting in the library, Soren feared that the worst of the rumors didn’t even scratch the surface of the truth.

He was just sopping up the last of his soup with a scrap of bread and trying to think of ways to help Annalise and keep her path smooth when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. 

A noble lord, who looked to be around sixty, stood behind him. “Dovean filth, how dare you proposition my daughter?” 

Soren’s eyebrows went skyhigh at the accusation. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir…?” 

“Lord Wethernon, of the Eastern forest. I believe you met my daughter, Lady Dakoa Wethernon yesterday while she was waiting for me in the Rhinnean barracks.” 

“Uh, yes, that is correct, but I don’t remember anything untoward occurring.” Soren attempted to lean back to put more space between them, but the lord, despite his frail appearance and trembling hand, had a grip like iron. 

“Untoward? You don’t remember anything untoward?” Lord Wethernon’s face turned a shade of red that matched the livery of the guards sitting around Soren. “You handed her a filthy romance novel and told her to think of you while she read it, and I demand restitution for her lost honor.”