Chapter 34

Awkwardness cast a haze over the next several days. The easy camaraderie that Annalise had grown used to with Soren felt strained. He kept their conversations light and did his best to cheer her up and distract her from her upcoming nuptials, but every so often from the corner of her eye she’d see his smile drop, replaced by a longing look that made her heart ache. 

A few nights later, as they neared the end of their journey, instead of breaking off into their own smaller fires, the guards made one huge bonfire, and Soren invited Annalise to sit on a log near it. 

“What’s this?” she asked. 

His smile warmed her from head to toes. “Some of Captain Padrin’s men were teasing me about Dovean training and I offered to show them exactly what a Dovean captain can do. I thought you might enjoy some entertainment with your dinner.” 

“Thank you for thinking of me; you’re very kind,” she replied. 

His shrug was noncommittal, but his eyes danced with excitement. “Just doing my job, Your Highness.”

He brought her and Elsabeth each a stick of roasted venison from a deer that one of the hunters shot earlier in the day. Whoever was on cooking duty had cut up onions, apples, and potatoes, and speared it in between the slices of venison. Annalise nearly groaned as her teeth sank into the tender meat and a small rivulet of juice ran down her chin. Cheers had gone up from everyone when a hunter riding on the edge of the guard column had made the shot. There was enough jerky, apples, potatoes, and onions in the saddlebags of the pack horse for the company to eat, but there was something primal about fresh roasted meat. 

Annalise devoured her stick of meat and vegetables as she watched Soren speak with a small group of men. One of them said something that she couldn’t quite make out, and he threw his head back and roared with laughter. In the light of the great fire, his normally reddish-brown hair looked like it was made of flames and highlighted with gold. 

Finally, the group separated, with Soren taking up a station at one end of the open space. Instead of their swords, all the men carried large sticks foraged from the nearby forest. The bark had been stripped from one or both sides of one end—she guessed to signify where the cutting edge of the blade would normally be.  

Soren carried his stick-sword in his left hand. When Captain Padrin, who was acting as a referee, raised his hand to signal the start of the match, Soren settled into a fighting stance that looked as familiar to him as walking. A small smile played around the corners of his mouth, and there was a certain vibrating energy about him as if every muscle in his body was poised and ready to unleash his attack. 

Captain Padrin dropped his hand, and Soren leapt forward, closing the open space in nearly the blink of an eye. His opponent barely had time to lift his stick to defend himself from the onslaught of attacks before Soren had swept his legs out from under him and the man found himself on the ground with the end of the stick pointing at his throat. 

There was a moment of total stillness, then a roaring round of applause from the other guards, several of whom had been sitting down eating and now rushed to join the line of challengers. 

Soren laughed and opened his arms to the new additions. “Come to join in the fun, I see? Well, if you’re all up for a trouncing, then who am I to say no?” 

Soren took on challenger after challenger. A few were more skilled than the others, but none lasted long against his speed and skill. Annalise knew Soren was talented—she remembered when they were children how he’d complained about his tutors, and she’d seen glimpses in his fight against the bandits, but here, in the midst of the winter woods as a light dusting of snow fell, she found herself completely entranced. He moved like a snake, coiling and uncoiling his limbs as if they were made of springs, and he danced through the firelight like a hummingbird darted through the air. When he was midway through the line of challengers, he called for a moment’s rest.

“What do you think so far?” he asked as he sat on the stump next to hers, a water skin in his hand. The only sign of his exertion was the faintest sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes, which still danced with energy from battle. 

“You’re very good. That was quite impressive,” Annalise said. 

He leaned back on one hand. “I’m still very rusty from my injury and not as fast as I normally am, but thank you for your kind words.” 

“I remember how much you complained about your father forcing you to do all those lessons when we were children, but it looks like it paid off. Do you think it was all worth it?” 

Soren sucked on his teeth as he stared into the fire. “It was a lot of pressure on a young boy’s shoulders, and if my mother was there she’d probably have put a stop to it, or at least let me play more with other children…” He shook himself as if shaking off the bad memories and turned back to her, his smile bright. “But honestly, if I had to do it all over again, I would. For years the thought of you was my guiding light, pushing me to better myself and to achieve greater things. If I had the choice, I’d choose to take every scrape and cut again if it meant that I was strong enough to protect you. In that respect, it was worth every second.” 

He leapt to his feet and bowed to her before he trotted off to finish taking on the challengers. 

As Annalise sat on the stump and watched Soren flow through his footwork, something about his words haunted her. It was only as he ended his last challenge with a final flourishing bow towards her that the niggling idea solidified. 

Soren had suffered through hours and weeks and years of practice so that one day he could return to Dovea and take up his sword as her protector. 

The thought made her warmer than any bonfire possibly could.