Chapter 44

Family alliances. Betrothals. Honor. The life of an innocent maiden. Much could change in a handful of breaths. 

Annalise sat at the window of her chambers and watched Soren walk through the snowy garden below. It was far too early in the season for the first of the spring flowers and the only green was that of the boughs of the evergreen trees peaking from under their burden of heavy snow, but the sun was out and the air still, and the lady walking next to Soren was looking up at him like he was a favored son of the Goddess. 

It had been two weeks since Soren’s duel, and much had changed. Annalise still wasn’t sure if it was the trouncing the son had received, or if it was the shame of Lady Dakoa immediately breaking their betrothal, but the Grenlef family hadn’t shown their faces at court since, and there were rumors that the family patriarch was considering disinheriting his son.  

Soren threw his head back and laughed, and Annalise’s hand tightened on the windowsill when she saw how pleased the lady walking with him looked. Annalise allowed herself to feel the jealousy churning in her gut for three breaths, and then she forced her hand to relax. At just that moment, Soren looked up at her window and when he made eye contact, smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement. Annalise returned his head nod with a smile of her own, then leaned back in her chair to return to her studies, pretending as though her stomach didn’t feel like it was full of butterflies. 

She’d learned much over the past two weeks and was almost finished working her way through her second stack of library books. Despite being the future queen of Rhinnea, she had no real duties and hadn’t yet been granted the privilege to travel through Rea, even under guard. Instead, she filled the long hours of her days learning as much as she could about Rhinnea, reading aloud for both her maids and her guard’s benefit. When her brain was stuffed so full of information she feared it might explode and her voice grew hoarse, as it did now, she took a break and silently read one of the romances from the library.

After he’d soundly defeated the younger Lord Grenlef before the head priest had finished reciting his first chant, Soren’s popularity among the Rhinnean noblewomen skyrocketed. Annalise fully understood why Soren was so popular with the women—his amicability, open nature, and willingness to please were a breath of fresh air in the stuffy Rhinnean court. There had even been rumors that he’d been seen returning to the barracks very late and rather disheveled, with a very annoyed Captain Risebach in tow. His new admirers were a good thing—King Nelan, who’d taken to insisting that Annalise call him Nelan in private, seemed pleased that Soren always had a woman hanging on his arm and had even started calling him Captain Kierson instead of ‘that Dovean cur’.

Annalise told herself that she was happy for Soren, and yet, sometimes she couldn’t quite shake the sense of loss that seemed to hang about her like a mourning shawl.

In another time, perhaps in another life, when thousands of Dovean lives weren’t hanging in the balance, she would have gladly given up every benefit of her station if it meant she and Soren could be together. 

Tear drops fell on the page of her book, and Annalise wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, surreptitiously glancing around to make sure no one saw. She and Soren were still friends. He still told her stories of his time at sea, with occasional colorful commentary from Captain Risebach, although he’d also started asking her how she was adjusting to court, and if she’d given any thought to who she would choose for her ladies-in-waiting.

Talking with Soren was easy, and bantering with him was like relaxing in a warm bath. Annalise enjoyed their time together, even if it left her shivering and cold after he left and her eyes burned when she watched him twirl court ladies around the Great Hall in the evening. The several hours he spent guarding her every day always flew by too fast and felt tinted in gold, even if he’d not so much as cast a longing look her way since the night before they entered Rea.

When he wasn’t on duty he was almost constantly surrounded by women. Even when he was standing guard at the door to Annalise’s chambers, she’d noticed a large increase of young ladies who suddenly seemed eager to meet their future queen… although there always seemed a problem that required Soren’s input, and the other women spent twice the time talking to Soren standing just outside Annalise’s doors as they did actually speaking with her. It would have been funny how they tried to appear nonchalant while hanging on every one of Soren’s words if it didn’t make Annalise want to strangle them.

Still, she was a queen-to-be and she acted every inch the part. She was gracious with the young women, and laughed courteously when their mothers suggested that perhaps a Dovean border lord marrying into the Rhinnean nobility could be a good sign of progress for the goodwill between their two peoples. She smiled through the pain and did her best to remain impartial—Soren wasn’t hers, after all, and watching the Rhinnean women maneuver around him helped her to differentiate between those who had good intentions and those who tended to manipulation and deceit.

Through it all, Soren’s attitude remained constant. He basked in all the attention, and his jovial nature shone like a warm fire on a cold winter’s day. His smile lit up whatever room he was in, and his presence warmed the space better than any hearth. As the days passed he seemed to grow more enamoured with the Rhinneans until Annalise had started to wonder if perhaps the matrons of the court were correct in their tittering and that he was planning to stay in Rhinnea after her wedding for personal reasons of his own, although she hadn’t mustered the courage to ask him yet.

The current lady he escorted was one of Annalise’s favorites; she was an apt listener, quick to smile, and when Nelan was making an example of someone at court, she never seemed to relish the spectacle of pain and punishment. She was from a good, respectable family from the northern region. Her father had a reputation for fairness, her mother was a quiet woman with watchful eyes, and her two younger sisters were quite well behaved.

By all appearances, she’d make a suitable wife for Soren, and judging by the attention he paid her, Soren seemed to agree. 

Annalise had gotten her wish—Soren appeared to be making great strides towards a happy life with a woman he could love, hold, and kiss to his heart’s content.

She’d just never expected that when he moved on, it would feel like he took her heart with him. 

She sighed and turned back to her book. The guards had shut her door, Elsabeth and Priscilla were out running errands and doing chores, and she tried her best to enjoy a rare moment alone.

She’d hardly read a chapter when the door to her chambers slammed open and Priscilla ran through as though a pack of ravenous wolves were chasing her. “Princess Annalise, I have news. King Nelan has moved your nuptials. You are due to wed him three days from now,” she said, chest heaving as she leaned forward and braced her hands on her knees. 

Annalise dropped her book. It bounced off the side of the table in front of her, knocking a teacup, teapot, and saucer to the ground with a resounding crash. “What are you saying, Priscilla? You must be mistaken. He was quite clear that he didn’t want to rush anything, and spring equinox is still six weeks away.” 

“It’s what all the servants are saying. The whole castle is abuzz.” 

“I–I don’t understand.” Annalise picked the book up with trembling hands and set it to the side, but didn’t trust her legs enough to stand.  

She’d believed she had at least a month to get to know Nelan and to say her goodbyes to Soren. The thought of being Nelan’s wife and Rhinnea’s queen by the end of the week felt as foreign and wrong as the idea of hugging a child without gloves or sleeves. Before Annalise could fully process what was happening, Elsabeth ran into the room. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, then slid to the ground. Despite her heaving chest, her face was nearly as white as the snow outside, and her normally neat hair was in disarray.

The collapse of her maid infused strength into Annalise’s limbs. She rose to her feet and rushed to Elsabeth’s side, her concern overriding her normal caution.

“Elsabeth, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Annalise asked, falling to her knees beside her friend. 

Elsabeth leaned forward and held up her hand. “I’m–fine–just–ran–far” she said in between gasps. “Lots of stairs. Just give me a minute.” 

Annalise stayed by the older woman’s side, gratefully accepting a cool cloth from Priscilla and dabbing it over Elsabeth’s forehead and neck before her lady’s maid straightened, her arms slung over her knees. She leaned her head against the door and took Annalise’s gloved hand in hers. 

Annalise’s breath stilled at the physical contact. Elsabeth had been one of the few to touch her occasionally, but the contact never happened without reason, and the look on her face was terrible. 

“What’s going on, Elsabeth?” she ground out, suddenly unable to breathe and overcome with the fear that Soren was hurt. 

“It’s your father, Your Highness. He died. One of the Rhinnean ambassadors that stayed behind in Dovea sent a messenger pigeon.” 

“My father… is dead?” 

“He is.”