Chapter 45

Annalise reached Elsabeth’s side and slumped against the door before letting herself slide slowly to the ground. The pleasantly warm room suddenly felt stifling hot and lacking in air, and her face broke out in perspiration. After resting her head against her knees and fighting for several deep breaths, she could finally choke out one word: “How?” 

“I don’t know. I ran to tell you as soon as I heard the news.” Elsabeth stood up straight and offered her hand, but Annalise ignored it, choosing to lean against the sturdy wooden door instead.

“At least this explains Nelan moving the wedding forward.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled croak. 

Priscilla explained the change in wedding plans to Elsabeth while Annalise waited for the grief to come, to overwhelm her like it had with her mother’s passing and pull her under… but there was nothing. 

No, that wasn’t true–there was only a whisper of something else. It took her a full minute to name the emotion, and then another to accept it, as the whisper of relief turned into a small flame of hope. 

“Princess, what do you want to do? Do you need anything?” Elsabeth asked, hand on Annalise’s shoulder. 

A pounding on the door startled the three of them. “Annalise! Open up. I have urgent news!” Soren shouted on the other side. 

“Let him in, please. Maybe he has more information for us,” Annalise said, shifting towards the wall to make room. She hated for Soren to see her so, but she didn’t trust her legs or her head, and the floor felt like the safest place at the moment.

Elsabeth opened the door for Soren, but closed it before Captain Risebach, his Rhinnean shadow, could follow him into Annalise’s chambers. Soren was halfway to the center of the room before he turned around and saw Annalise crumpled on the floor. 

“Your Highness, are you ill?” he asked, stepping towards her with an outstretched hand, his eyes creased in worry. 

His attitude gave her the jolt of energy she needed, and Annalise pushed to her feet and dusted her dress. “Have you heard about my father?” She stared at the ground, fearful that if she looked into Soren’s eyes and saw even an ounce of pity that she’d crumple once more. 

“I have. I ran across the pigeon master, who told me as he returned to the dovecote after delivering the message to King Nelan and came straight here.”  

“Did he say how my father died? Was it sickness? He was so healthy when we left…” 

“Not sickness, no. Apparently, Lord Adrilla caught him in an extremely compromising position with Lady Evelina Adrilla in her chambers, took offense and mortally wounded King Everet.” 

The news dropped like a heavy stone, leaving a pregnant pause in its wake.

Annalise was the first to speak. “That sounds rather strange, especially considering the potential rewards if Lady Evelina were to become pregnant. She is of much higher birth than Larken. Surely my father would elevate her to queen if she bore him an heir. I’m surprised Lord Adrilla was so insistent on her honor.” 

Soren coughed and averted his gaze. “Lady Anah, who I was just with outside, is dear friends with the pigeon master, and after a few words from her, he was more than willing to tell us the contents of the message. From what the ambassador implied, Lady Evelina didn’t return King Everet’s affections and was in fact preparing to leave court and go home. The king entered her chambers on false pretenses, and it was only by a stroke of good fortune that Lord Adrilla heard her cries for help.” Soren’s voice took on a strained quality as he repeated the news, and Annalise clenched her fists, then steeled herself to look at him. 

He was standing much closer than she’d expected, and when she ever so slightly lifted her head, the nearness of him made her head spin. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. His eyes traced over her face like a caress, and before she knew what was happening, Annalise found herself folded into a hug. She immediately stiffened, but then, as the warm strength of Soren’s arms cradled her, she allowed herself to relax in his embrace. 

“Annalise, be honest with me. Are you okay?” he whispered into her hair. 

“I–I’ll survive.”

“If you ever need anything, just say the word and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Soren.”

He squeezed her gently, then let go, and nothing could have prepared Annalise to see him sink to one knee in front of her, one arm against his chest and his head bowed. “My Queen, I swear I will follow you anywhere, serve your every whim, and protect you with my very life,” he said. 

As sure as a temple gong, Soren’s words struck a chord in Annalise that reverberated through her entire body. There was a whisper of cloth to her right, and a glance revealed Priscilla and Elsabeth both in a deep curtsy. The weight of leadership, a mantle that she’d trained for her entire life without actually believing she’d ever carry, settled on her shoulders. 

Her father was dead. Larken was pregnant with his child, but it would be months before the baby was born and years before it was fit to rule. When Larken’s child grew of age, it would have its own difficulty in settling its legitimacy—as King Everet’s concubine the child’s claim to the throne was tenuous at best, and it would only take one rumor of infidelity on Larken’s part to call its parentage into question. Annalise knew there were those in her father’s court who would back Larken’s baby if for no other reason than to amass power for themselves as regents. However, her paternal aunt had married into a wealthy family with extensive ties throughout much of southern Dovea. If she so wished, she could put forth her own claim to the throne and make the question of the rightful ruler of Dovea very difficult indeed.  

There was no other option. To prevent a civil war in the country she loved so dearly, she must accept her birthright and ascend the throne. 

“Please, rise,” she said. 

“Of course, Your Majesty. How may I serve you?” Soren rocked to his feet and stood at the ready in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. 

Annalise sank onto the couch, her head spinning with the whirlwind of events. “There’s only one thing to do: this wedding cannot go through. It was one thing for me to marry King Nelan when my father was still alive, but it’s another entirely to leave my people without a ruler and a secure future. I will speak to Nelan at once and renegotiate our treaty.”