Chapter 13: Things that slither

As preparations swirled around the castle for Annalise’s departure, Soren spent nearly every day as her constant shadow—not that she was complaining. Annalise thoroughly enjoyed his company, and their friendship had picked up almost exactly where they’d left it over a decade before.

Nearly a week after Soren was assigned as her personal guard, Annalise had just finished tying the ribbons of her mask when there was a knock at the door to her chambers. Priscilla opened the door for Soren as Annalise swung her fur-lined cloak around her shoulders. 

“Are you ready for your daily walk, Your Highness?” he asked. 

“Give me one more moment,” she said, sliding her feet into her boots. While Soren took his role as her protector seriously, instead of keeping her locked behind closed doors, he pushed her to get out of the castle more. Annalise had protested at first, citing the risk to the citizens, but he’d assuaged her concerns almost as fast as she spoke them aloud. Since then, they’d taken a long walk together nearly every day. At his insistence and encouragement, she’d spent more time outside in the past week than she had in the months before. 

They usually started out walking through the castle gardens before looping through the streets in the upper district of Dovelan, which housed nobility and the wealthiest of merchants. Today the plan was to walk all the way through Dovelan, as a kind of informal farewell tour before her rapidly approaching departure date. The increased distance made her nervous, especially considering what had happened the last time she’d walked through the market, but Soren’s steady presence at her side reassured her, and her anxiety only simmered under the surface.  

“Don’t worry, your guards are waiting for us at the castle gatehouse. We’re in no rush. Actually, before we go, I wanted to show you something.”

Annalise looked up as she finished tying her shoes. A faint blush spread over Soren’s cheeks, bring out the red highlights of his brown hair. “Oh? What is it?” she asked. 

He held out a mask. It was an inverse of her own, made of ebony black as night. Instead of the beautiful intricate carvings of her ivory mask, this one only had a handful of lines meant to give shape to the face. “What do you think?” 

She looked closely at the mask, examining its fine craftsmanship and sleek design before handing it back to him. “It’s lovely, but I already have a mask.”

“It’s not for you; it’s for me.” He scuffed the toe of his boot against the stone floor, then looked at her. As usual, something about his warm amber gaze drew Annalise in. “It’s not fair that you’re the only one who has to wear one. As your protector and your friend, I won’t let you suffer alone.” He took the mask from her and lifted it to his face, but she stopped him before he could fasten the ties. 

Her vision swam as unshed tears threatened, but her voice didn’t waver. “Please keep it off. You don’t understand what you’re offering. For others to never see your emotions, to never feel the caress of a soft breeze across your cheek, to always be hidden behind something cold and unfeeling… I wouldn’t wish for this burden to be placed on anyone else, especially not you.” 

He wrapped his fingers around hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “And yet, I would still assume this burden so as to have something to share with you.” 

His words almost made her tears spill, but she was barely able to stay in control. Annalise didn’t know why, but whenever she was in his presence she seemed to spend half of the time on the verge of tears and the other half smiling like a fool. “Then please live as I cannot. It would make this existence of mine even more unbearable if one of my dearest friends weren’t able to express himself as I so wish to.” She looked out the window at the tree in the garden, the last of the bronzed autumn leaves barely hanging onto its branches. “Besides, you already spend so much time with me, much more than necessary. If you wear that mask, it will hinder your attempts to court a lady, and I’d feel terrible about getting in the way of you and your future. Although perhaps you think me foolish for thinking so. I suppose once I’m with the Rhinneans you won’t have to worry about my feelings anymore and will be free to spend your time as you like. When you return, you won’t have any trouble finding a suitable wife with your family name, titles, and list of accomplishments, not to mention the favor of the king.” 

“I don’t think I could ever stop worrying about your feelings, even if I wanted to.” Soren coughed into his elbow and then straightened. “Besides, as I’ve told you before, I didn’t come back to Dovea to find a wife.” 

“That’s not what the servants are saying.” 

He held the door open for her, and they left the chamber, Priscilla trailing as Annalise’s ever-present chaperone now that the initial rush of planning and packing her trousseau had died down. “And you are intimately acquainted with all the servant gossip?” Soren asked. 

“You can learn a lot from gossip. Many of them speak freely in my presence. Plus, Priscilla keeps me well abreast of anything I might have missed.”

“The servants speak freely in front of you? How’d you manage that?” 

They exited the castle, and Annalise lifted her face to the sun, wishing she could feel its weak rays on her skin. “I think it’s the mask—it’s a lot easier for people to forget who I am when they can’t see my face. Sometimes it’s almost like they forget I’m there. Imagine that—the curse isn’t just deadly, it also makes me invisible. I’m sure your father would love to have a spy with that kind of power.” She laughed, but it rang a touch too hollow, and he shook his head. 

“Do you disagree?” she asked. 

“Not at all; I am only in awe at how little bitterness there is in your voice. It is truly a wonder. You are quite a remarkable woman.” 

Annalise wasn’t sure how to respond to him; his compliments always engendered a warm sensation in her chest that left her speechless. Thankfully, it was just then that they reached the castle gatehouse, and after Soren gathered the guards assigned to her duty for the outing, they set out for the town.

They reached the guild district of Dovelan and stopped by the healer’s guild first, where Guildmaster Trenk received their offerings with much thankfulness. The guild made its home in a building of hewn stone surrounded by several large herb gardens. The building had two parts—the outermost, which was open and airy with its many windows, and the inner keep. In times of siege or attack, the wounded, infirm, and young were taken to the Guild of Healers where the walls of the inner building were thick enough to protect all who sheltered there. 

Guildmaster Trenk bowed to Annalise before opening a side door at the edge of the main room. “Please, Your Highness, as a show of our deep gratitude for your continued patronage, allow me to show you around the guild. Our novice healers are currently learning how to make poultices for minor wounds and one of our journeymen is back from a long trek abroad. He’s brought several new plants and knowledge from Rhinnea, where he’s spent the past year wandering through distant hamlets and learning from their peasantry.”

“Thank you. As I’m sure you can imagine, I’d appreciate any chance to learn more about Rhinnea,” Annalise said. 

Master Trenk led her to a room in the innermost keep. He opened a thick wooden door to reveal a young man bent over a table. With one hand he wrote in a thick book while he surveyed a dried bunch of herbs with the other. 

Guildmaster Trenk cleared his throat and the young man looked up and set his pen and herbs to the side. 

“Alaric, this is Princess Annalise, her escort, Lord Soren, and her lady’s maid, Priscilla. I was just telling them about your work with the Rhinneans. Princess Annalise, this is Alaric, one of our most talented healers. He is particularly adept at managing pregnancies and delivering children. With the happy news from the castle, I have every intention of recommending him to your father as Lady Larken’s personal physician,” Master Trenk said.  

The young man stood and bowed. His light blond hair was cropped short and his frame slight, but something about his manner was very serious and grave despite the youthful appearance of his face.

“Welcome. I’ve heard much of your gifts to the guild, Your Highness. Thank you. Your generosity is very much appreciated,” he said, his voice as cultured and smooth as a river stone.  

Annalise dipped her head in acknowledgement of his bow. “Guildmaster Trenk mentioned that you’ve been working with the Rhinnean peasantry? I must confess that I’m rather surprised they allowed such a thing considering the rather bloodthirsty reputation of their clan.” When her father, King Evert, was a young man, he’d spent several years waging war against the Rhinneans, first to defend Dovea, and then to conquer the rival kingdom, but the mountainous land of the Rhinnean kingdom and the fierce fighting of its inhabitants thwarted all attempts of conquest. 

“They didn’t give me too much trouble, Your Highness,” Alaric said, “I took care to not advertise where I’m from, simply that I was a healer looking to further his knowledge. The small hamlets I traveled to deep within the mountains weren’t much more than Rhinnean by name, and many of them didn’t have healers of their own.”

“Alaric is quite humble, Princess Annalise. Several of the Rhinnean villagers were so grateful for his help that they tried to convince him to stay. I’m told that he actually saved several children from a spreading fever endemic to the mountains, and he brought back some herbs for further study that the Rhinneans use to aid themselves when they get a persistent cough,” Guildmaster Trenk added. 

A pink flush spread over Alaric’s face at the guildmaster’s words. “Yes, well, I did my best to impart as much of my knowledge as I could as a means of payment for their own wildcraft and healing arts. Hopefully it serves them well.” 

“You gave our enemies healing knowledge? Isn’t that dangerous?” Priscilla asked. 

Alaric’s expression turned consternated at Priscilla’s words. “One of the things I taught them was to use a special blend of herbs to help birthing women have an easier labor and to reduce the childbearing sickness. Would you have rather those women and children become ill and possibly died?” 

“Children grow up to become warriors and warriors become killers—” Priscilla glanced between Alaric and Guildmaster Trenk, both of whom wore horrified expressions—”But no, babes in their mother’s arms do no harm. Please forgive me for my unthinking words.” 

“Yes, well, we better be on our way. I’m sure that you are busy, Your Highness, and we don’t wish to keep you too long. Next I will show you our novices,” Guildmaster Trenk said as he opened the door and dipped his head. 

After a brief demonstration from the novice healers, during which she lavished them with praise that they soaked up like their cotton poultice cloths, the trio left the guild. Annalise and Soren walked in front, with Priscilla following a step behind, carrying a small sack the guildmaster had insisted on giving Annalise, which he said contained a small tin of salve that he promised would keep her hands from getting chapped in the cold on her journey to Rhinnea. 

“Do you think it was something I said?” Priscilla asked once they were out of earshot of the guild. 

“I’d say that both Alaric and the Guildmaster were quite shocked at the thought of not sharing their healing knowledge,” Annalise replied as diplomatically as she could. 

“Has no one explained to them that knowledge is power? Alaric probably didn’t hesitate to tell them how to stitch a wound or what herbs to use to speed healing from a cut.” 

“I would wager that you’re correct. Is there something so wrong with that?” Annalise asked. 

Priscilla shrugged. “In my land we do not share knowledge so freely with our enemies. A sick snake is a weak snake and a weak snake is easier to kill.” 

Soren snorted. “I hope for all our sakes that the only serpent we encounter in Rhinnea is the kind that slithers along the ground.”