Chapter 12: Gardening with Annalise
Three days later, Soren watched over Annalise in the garden as she finished harvesting the last viable herbs of autumn. He’d offered to help, but she’d turned him down, and he had to settle for holding the rapidly filling basket. One of the servant girls stood at the end of the row, chaperoning from a distance.
“Where’s Priscilla?” He drew his cloak around himself to ward off the worst of the biting wind. “Was she not feeling up for a jaunt in this bracing weather?”
“Priscilla hails from a land far to the north of here. Just this morning she compared the weather now to a, and I quote, ‘rather balmy autumn’.” Annalise bent down to examine the row of herbs. “But to answer your question, she is supervising the packing of my trousseau with the other maids.”
“Do they not need you to supervise?” he asked.
“There’s no need. I suspect if I insisted on helping, Priscilla would chase me out of my own chambers, royal title or not. Besides, the healer’s guild needs these herbs. I wish I could give them more; I’d turn over the entire garden to their care, if I could. I worry about what will happen after I’m gone.” Annalise rocked back on her heels and looked up at Soren, her white mask an impassive expanse. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”
He fell to his knees beside her. “Anything, Your Highness. I would scale the tops of the highest mountains or dive to the bottom of the deepest sea if it meant bringing a smile to your face. What is it you wish? Simply name your desire, and I will ensure it is met.” His tone and manner were intentionally extravagant to allow her to write his flowery language off as a facetious affectation, but he meant every word.
Her bright blue eyes crinkled in amusement within the shadows of the mask. “After you escort me to Rea and have returned to Dovea, will you take some herbs from here to the healer’s guild for me? Spring should be well underway by then, which means there should be a few kinds ready for light harvesting. Guildmaster Trenk can tell you which ones. You won’t have to do it for long, of course, just until the guild can expand their own gardens.”
Soren swallowed, a thick lump suddenly in his throat at how easily she talked about leaving Dovea forever. “I’ll do my best, Your Highness, but I am no royal. I’m simply the son of a favored general, and as such, am merely a guest on castle grounds.”
“Oh. Of course. You’re right.” The slump of her shoulders was enough to pull at Soren’s heartstrings.
“But, if it would mean anything, if you give me a list, I’ll direct the servants at Kierson House here in Dovelan to plant the same herbs and flowers in our garden as soon as the soil thaws in the spring. Hopefully that will ease some of the growing pains of the healer’s guild as they get their own gardens in order,” he added.
“Thank you, Captain Soren.” Her hands trembled as she set the next bunch of plants in the basket, but he pretended not to notice.
“You are most welcome, Princess Annalise.”
The names had become something between them. He wasn’t sure what they meant to her, but to Soren, calling her by her title was a way to remind himself that she was destined for another man. Not that long ago he’d hoped to call her ‘love’ or ‘wife’ or ‘mine’. Instead, the word ‘princess’ reminded him that she was not, and could never be his. Every time he said it, it burned his tongue like the most bitter of pills.
Soren didn’t allow himself to think of the rumors he’d heard in various port cities about the Rhinnean crown prince with a taste for cruelty. He told himself that the Rhinnean king, Nelan, would be a good man. That he would take care of Annalise and help her learn about the local customs. He forced himself to imagine that King Nelan would find a way to end her curse and win her heart so that they could live a happy life together.
The very thought made him want to throw up.
“These plants are very slow-growing. I’m going to pull several of them out and donate them to the guild so they can get a head start on their garden. I’ll send some home with you as well, if you’re entirely serious about setting aside space for them at your house,” Annalise said as she took great care to remove soil from around the base of each plant and then dig out as much of their roots as she could, apparently unaware of Soren’s internal struggles.
She wasn’t wearing gloves, and Soren watched her long, white, and delicate fingers work with a dexterity that was unsurprising, considering her talent playing the harp.
Suddenly her hands were hidden beneath the layers of her dress, and he glanced up to find her watching him. “Don’t worry, Priscilla’s never gotten sick after laundering my clothes, but just to be on the safe side, I always wash the herbs after I touch them. I have a hard time picking them with gloves and risk bruising the more delicate leaves. So far, Guildmaster Trenk has assured me that no one’s become suspiciously ill, and even says that medicines made from the castle herbs seem more potent than any other. I offered to have someone else pick the herbs instead, but he wouldn’t hear of it,” she said, unable to look him in the eyes.
Soren shook his head and leaned forward, helping clear the last of the soil away. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re not touching anyone, you are free to do whatever you want,” he said, swallowing down another lump in his throat. He made a mental note to check with the healers for himself—he often seemed to have trouble breathing or swallowing around Annalise, and wanted to make sure he wasn’t becoming ill at an inopportune time.
After a few minutes of work, he mustered up the courage to ask her the story behind her mask. In a soft voice, she told him of how several years before one of her father’s lovers had become pregnant, but that after the woman began showing, she’d fallen ill and blamed Annalise’s curse for causing the sickness that eventually caused a miscarriage.
“We’d never had a problem before, or after, but my father ordered I wear something to cover my face just in case,” she said as she gathered the plants and placed them carefully in her basket after shaking the worst of the dirt off. Her voice dropped so low he had to strain to hear it. “He was furious, and I feared for my safety, but after I spent a few days in my chambers to hide from his wrath, he summoned me to dinner and we acted like nothing happened. His concubine was sent away from court in disgrace; there were whispers she’d already lost the child and faked the illness to shift the blame to me and save herself. If the rumors were true, it didn’t work. I’m not sure what happened between her and my father, but last I heard, she married a wealthy merchant and they moved east to Yblis.”
“I’m sorry for asking; it sounds like an awful situation.”
“Why are you sorry? There’s nothing you could have done to stop it.” Her voice was quiet and almost serene, as if they were talking about something mundane, like the kitchen running out of her favorite cake, not a curse that had ruined her life.
“My heart breaks at thinking of you all alone for so many years, hidden away behind layers of cloth and ivory, especially without your mother. I grieve her death, and I grieve what it meant for you. She was a truly wonderful queen.”
“I think so too, even if no one else here seems to agree. All of her loyal servants and ladies-in-waiting were sent away. The only ones who dare to come to court must treat me poorly or risk the displeasure of the king; he doesn’t like it when others are nice to me, although he’d never say it so plainly. For his great temper and prone to shouting, the quick, cutting, quiet words he wields like a dagger are the most painful.” Annalise paused, her hands stilling for a moment as she inhaled a deep breath. “It’s okay… I just wish I knew why my mother did what she did. I thought she loved me, but I guess I was wrong.”
“My father told me what happened. Your mother was such a kind woman, who doted on you. I can hardly believe that she meant to curse you.”
“Maybe she didn’t, but why would she risk it? Why couldn’t she wait until I wasn’t in the room? Why did she threaten my father? She must have known that if he survived he’d take it out on me. Did she really not love me enough to stop herself from throwing it all away?”
Annalise’s tears fell to the soil. Almost immediately, she straightened and turned away, moving her mask aside as she did. Soren glimpsed smooth, fair skin, lips and cheeks as pink as a peony, and hair the color of spun gold. Ever since their first unguarded tea time, he hadn’t seen her without her mask, even when in her chambers to discuss security concerns and plan for their upcoming journey. Unbidden, his thoughts returned to that golden hour, when he’d feasted his eyes upon her beauty. He shoved the down pang of regret that he’d not had the chance to see her face again and decided that perhaps it was for the best—a man could lose his mind around a beauty such as she.
“Excuse me while I wipe my eyes; I don’t want to risk poisoning the soil,” Annalise said, turning further away.
His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. “If your dirty clothes or dead hair don’t make anyone ill, why are you worried about your tears?” he gently asked.
“Laundry is one thing; they use enough water that it probably dilutes anything that might be harmful. The soil, though, that’s something else. What if my dead skin isn’t dangerous, but my tears are? What if it poisons the soil, so that nothing grows, or if the plants pick up the curse and pass it on to whoever ingests the herbs?” She shook her head and returned to her task. “It’s far too risky.”
“I get the feeling that you think that about most things.”
He could see the barest creamy sliver of skin over her jaw, and as the words left his mouth, it tightened as her muscles clenched. “It is my burden to bear. I will not allow more people to die from this curse. If that means I must lock myself away from the world to protect everyone else, then so be it.”
“That’s not much of a life to live.”
“It is the life I was given, and I will not shirk my responsibility.”
The finality in her words sent a shiver of fear down Soren’s spine.