As Annalise looked out over the Dovean court room, she wondered for the thousandth time if she was dreaming. The reassuring presence of the throne at her back comforted her; its cold stone was a reminder of the many generations before who’d sat there and doled out judgments to the kingdom–some for better and others…
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…
Nelan’s snide voice broke through Annalise’s golden haze. “She’s healed you?” A large hand grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet, away from Soren. Annalise cried out at the rough handling. Nelan’s face was twisted in hate and rage. The sudden sight of him reminded Annalise of everything he’d put her…
Soren’s side was on fire. Scratch that, his entire body felt like a mage had wrapped tiny spiders in hot, broken glass, and then directed the spiders to crawl over his skin and through every vein. He wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t open. He wanted to claw out his eyes just to have…
Annalise stared speechlessly at King Nelan, who stood over Soren’s crumpled body clutching a long, bloody dagger in his good hand. “You’re an honorable man, Soren Kierson, I’ll give that…but there is no honor in love or war.” Nelan spat next to Soren’s body and walked to his throne, tossing a dark look over his…
Soren had to give it to Nelan; the Rhinnean was a well-trained swordsman. Of course, all of that being said he wasn’t necessarily a good swordsman, let alone a great one, but he at least knew which end was the pointy one and how to move his feet, which is more than Soren expected from…
Pain. There was so much pain. Soren’s head pounded from dehydration, the skin on his back and torso burned from whipping marks, and his left shoulder hung loosely at his side. He didn’t remember exactly when it fully dislocated, just that at some point in the past three days Nelan had swapped the cat-o’-nine-tails for…
Three days later, Annalise stared in the mirror as Priscilla and Elsabeth flitted around the room like sparrows. It felt like an entire lifetime had passed since she was in Dovea picking out fabric for her trousseau and dreaming hopefully of a future where the Rhinnean king was a kind man who would help her…
Slimy, stinking water invaded Soren’s nose and pressed him down with its weight. He held his breath for as long as he could, stretching his arms overhead in a vain attempt to swim back up towards the air and life, but his efforts were futile. He opened his mouth in a silent scream and inhaled…
When King Nelan summoned Annalise to eat dinner with him in the great hall that evening, she refused on the grounds of recovering from the sudden news of her father’s death. Instead of worrying about any potential missteps in front of the court, once dinner was served in her room she dismissed Priscilla and Elsabeth…