Chapter 58

Soren held Annalise until the last of Nelan’s guards stopped twitching and then, as everyone stared in shock at the deceased king, he picked up his sword and pulled her behind him.

“Soren, what are you doing?” Annalise asked, one hand steadying herself against his back. During the gruesome display, Priscilla and Elsabeth had drawn closer, and now the four of them stood in a small open space in the center of the room.

“These Rhinneans watched your curse kill their king. I won’t risk them retaliating against you,” he said, widening his stance as if in preparation for an attack from all sides.

“But your injuries…”

 “Are no more. I’ve never felt better, darling, thank the Goddess.” His eyes scanned the room as he held his sword at the ready. “Which is good because I think I’m going to need every ounce of energy to get us out of this.” 

Annalise looked between him and the rest of the room, and her heart swelled at the sight of the man so willing to put himself at risk to keep her safe. Gently, she placed a hand over his to steady the sword, then reached out and ran a finger over the length of the edge, leaving a thin smear of blood behind. 

She looked up at him and raised her voice until it rang through the silent room. “If they attack us out of some kind of misguided revenge, they can deal with the consequences.” 

Soren’s mouth opened, shut, and then his lips pressed together in a grim smile before he nodded. “Yes, my queen.” 

The throne room doors slammed open, and a cavalry of horses burst through. At first, Annalise thought it was her Dovean guards making a rescue attempt, but upon a second glance the horses had wings, and their riders were dressed in foreign armor. Behind her Elsabeth let out a strange shriek, which the riders echoed back, their battle cries reverberating through the room. 

The rhys flowed around their little group like a river current around a boulder until they were surrounded in a ring made of winged horses and riders. The lead rider dismounted and lifted her leather helmet, revealing Helene’s smiling face.

Annalise’s heart stopped, then stuttered to life again. “Aunt Helene? What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, in case that wasn’t obvious. You should thank Elsabeth for telling me what was going on.” Helene hefted a short spear in her hand and stepped up to Annalise’s other side.

“But…how…Elsabeth?” Annalise’s brow drew together as she turned to her lady’s maid, who wore a sheepish smile. 

“When I heard about your father, I snuck into the dovecote and sent a messenger pigeon. We’re fortunate they had one available for Murana, and more fortunate that the keeper of the messages was busy informing King Nelan of the news,” Elsabeth said.  

“I’m glad to see we were in time,” Helene added. Next to Helene, Brunen shook her head and stamped her foot, her wings held halfway out, making the large rhys appear almost monstrous. 

Annalise looked around at their group. They were small—only a handful of warriors her aunt’s age or older—but the sight of the rhys, creatures of legends, appeared to have frozen most of the Rhinneans in awe. “I thought that Murana’s policy was not to intervene in foreign affairs.” 

“It is, and this isn’t an official action.” Helene donned her helmet again, and for the first time Annalise noticed the slash of black that crossed diagonally across its face. “I heard you were in trouble and decided that I couldn’t stand by while another kinswoman made a terrible mistake. I’ve renounced my throne, and the rhys and riders you see with me are here of their own accord. We are here as mercenaries of our own free will, not as Muranan soldiers, and we return you to Dovea safely, no matter the cost.” 

A piercing scream echoed through the throne room, and Annalise jerked her attention away from her aunt to the throng of Rhinneans in front of them, where Princess Codela clutched her throat. Behind her, General Anar lay supine on the ground, a crimson pool of blood spreading beneath him.

“What—what happened?” Annalise asked at the sudden turn of events.

“When everyone was distracted by the Muranans, this snake attacked the princess,” Captain Risebach said. He pulled his sword out of the general’s chest and kicked his body.

When Annalise turned her gaze to the princess, her blood ran cold. The front of Princess Codela’s dress was drenched red, and her eyes were wide in shock. She took one faltering step towards Annalise, then another, and reached out her hand. “Please help me.” Her voice was sickeningly wet, as if she was trying to talk with her mouth half-full of water. She coughed, and a trickle of blood ran from the side of her mouth.

Annalise was no stranger to violence, but the sight of blood running freely from the ugly gash in Princess Codela’s throat threatened to turn her stomach. Somewhere far in the back of her mind she wondered how Codela could even stay standing, let alone speak, with a wound so hideous.

When Codela drew closer, Brunen snapped at her and the woman stopped, one hand held out, the other still clutching at her throat, as her blood continued its steady stream to the floor.

“This could be a trick,” Helene said under her breath, hand on her sword. 

“She’s the one who rescued me,” Soren replied. He cut his eyes towards Annalise and lowered his sword. “She gave me the means of escape and told me where to go. If it weren’t for her and Matheus, I’d still be locked in the dungeon.” 

Annalise looked down at her hand, which still oozed blood, back to Codela, who was rapidly turning whiter with every passing second, and stepped forward, hand held out. “I still don’t know how my curse works or if this will only harm you further, but you’ve been kind to me in my time here. If the Goddess wills it, I will do whatever I can to help,” Annalise said as she took Codela’s bloody hand in her own.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the throne room.

Codela squeezed Annalise’s hand. In the next breath, she went rigid.

Annalise tried to draw her hand away, but Codela refused to let go. She grit her teeth and furrowed her brow, but didn’t emit a sound even as her face was wracked in pain.

“Your Majesty,” Captain Risebach said, stepping forward with his sword drawn. Behind her, Annalise felt Soren’s presence at her back.

“Please stay away for your own safety,” Annalise said through a clenched jaw. Codela’s grip on her hand was crushing, but there was no escaping it, and they stood frozen like statues as the seconds stretched on. 

Then, finally, Codela relaxed her grip and took a great heaving gasp, releasing Annalise from her grasp and stumbling back as if she’d been hit by lightning. Her neck was still stained red with blood, but the gash had healed so thoroughly it was almost as if it had never been there.

Annalise stepped forward to help her but stopped at the forward rush of the Rhinnean guards, who surrounded the Rhinnean princess. Soren shouldered past her, placing himself squarely between the two contingents, sword at the ready. Brunen squealed, and a few loose strands of Annalise’s hair shifted in a stiff breeze as the rhys flapped her wings.  

“I’m fine. I’m fine! Rhinneans, stand down,” Codela yelled above the clank of armor and rustle of drawn swords. She swallowed, then stood tall. “Your Majesty, you have both saved my life and healed my injuries. I will be forever in your debt.”

Annalise’s heart rose in her throat. “Codela…your throat…” 

“Is healed, yes. Queen Annalise, you may be cursed, but the Goddess has also blessed you greatly.” Codela closed her mouth and looked up at the ceiling, briefly overcome with emotion. “I have never spoken of this before, but I sense our countries are standing on the precipice, and I will repay your mercy with honesty. I wasn’t born with this twisted leg of mine, which many that this court scorn. When I was a girl, I was strong and carefree and could ride and run as far and as fast as my brother or any of my peers. My injury was the result of an accident, one that I fully believe Nelan engineered so he could take my place as heir. At the time, I was grateful I had escaped with my life, even if it meant losing the throne. Now, though, I have persevered, and the Goddess has seen fit to deal justice to my evil brother and his minions, and to place my rightful crown on my head. Thank you, Queen Annalise. I will be forever in your debt.” She dropped into a deep curtsy, her twisted foot just barely visible beneath the hem of her skirt a reminder of what she’d been through. 

Annalise returned the curtsy, her eyes filling with tears as she processed what Codela’s healing might mean. “Thank you, Codela, for confirming that perhaps there is more to my curse than I originally thought.”

When she rose, Annalise heard a snort and felt a puff of air at her back. She turned, ready to pat Brunen on the nose and thank her for all her help, but froze when instead of the seal brown mare, she found herself face-to-face with a chestnut rhys the color of a newly minted copper pot. 

Before Annalise could lower her hand, the chestnut mare shoved her nose into her outstretched palm. A chill spread from her hand to her entire body, followed by a wave of goosebumps. As Annalise stared into the dark brown eyes of the rhys in front of her, a faint wild melody began to play, one that spoke of alpine breezes, and clear forest pools, and dawn breaking over snow-capped mountain peaks. A voice spoke directly into her head, one that warmed her to her toes and made her feel as though she’d finally come home. 

Hello, Bright One. My name is Gryna, and I’m glad to finally meet you.

Author note: The final chapter (the epilogue, actually) of The Masked Princess drops on Tuesday of next week. If you haven’t already, sign up for my newsletter HERE (seriously, click here) for a sneak-peek at any new novels (or novellas) coming soon! 👀