Chapter 49
Soren knew two things: One, if his father played his cards right, their family could be the next Dovean dynasty and he would be king one day, and two, that he’d give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant Annalise would be free.
Maybe I was never meant to have a happy ending.
The words shattered his heart into a thousand tiny pieces, each as sharp as a sliver of glass. She deserved a happy ending. She deserved love. She deserved a life where she could smile and laugh and cry without fear of her tears hurting others. For months, no, years, she’d put the needs of others above her own. She’d protected them, even when they’d looked down upon her or feared her. She’d hidden herself away so as not to make anyone uncomfortable, denying her own humanity and need for touch for the sake of those around her.
She’d given so much of herself while denying her own basic needs, and he’d no longer stand for her selflessness. Annalise of Dovea had worn many masks, but he’d known who she was before her curse and he knew the woman she’d become. Just like the heroine in the books she favored reading, she’d resigned herself to trading her life to the dragon for the safety of her village.
Well, he was a sailor, not a knight, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from saving her from herself.
The Rhinnean guards swarmed him like ants, bundled him down the stairs and kicked him out of the tower’s entry door, sending him sprawling on the ground. When he rocked to his feet, he found Matheus waiting for him, Soren’s sword and scabbard held loosely in his hands. The tower guards were already retreating inside, and the thud as they locked the door behind them echoed through Soren’s bones.
“Here. Far be it from me to keep a man from his sword, although if you think I’ll let you put it on and run right back up those stairs, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” Matheus said as he dropped the sword to the ground.
Soren bent to pick it up, his blood still boiling. “How someone as honorable as you can follow King Nelan so unflinchingly will never cease to amaze me.”
“When I joined the service of Rhinnea, I swore an oath to the crown. It is my honor to follow that oath, no matter what the wearer of the crown does.”
“Even if he acts in a reprehensible way, such as keeping a lady against her will and forcing her to marry him even when he only plans to use her as a weapon?”
Matheus’s lips pressed together and he averted his eyes. “If you think that’s the worst he’s done, you haven’t been here nearly long enough. Put your sword on and let’s go back to the barracks. There’s nothing here left for you.”
“Oh, but there is. It’s time I paid your king a visit to lodge an official compliant.” Soren buckled his belt and strode away, mind reeling with the events of the day.
Red. The further he walked into the castle, Soren’s vision was filled with red. Red from the uniform of the Rhinnean guards, red and yellow from the torches he walked past on his way to King Nelan’s office, red from the rage burning in his chest at the thought of Annalise locked in the tower like a criminal.
Soren knew it was dangerous to make decisions in anger, and that those who did so rarely lived long and happy lives, but nothing would satisfy the wrath that flickered at the edge of his vision. Annalise’s confinement. Priscilla’s black eye. The forced marriage and potential civil war hanging over their heads. It was all fuel to the fire that kept him burning despite the winter chill in the air.
Well, he would fix it. He would fix everything. Soren would not let some upstart whelp with a shiny crown and a god complex force the love of his life into a marriage she no longer wanted.
As he turned down the hallway where Nelan’s offices were located, he was met by a column of armed guards blocking the way.
“Out of my way, I have business with the king,” Soren growled.
The man at the front of the column put his hand on his sword. “You have no business with King Nelan, Captain Kierson. Return to the barracks. You are no longer needed to protect the princess.”
“She’s the queen of Dovea, and to keep her here against her will is an act of war. Step aside.” Soren’s hand twitched towards his sword as he faced down the other man. After the anticlimactic nature of his encounter with the guards in front of Annalise’s chamber, he itched for a fight.
“We are not under your orders. We answer to King Nelan and King Nelan only, and he has decreed that the treaty under which their betrothal was cemented is still lawful.”
“That is exactly why I seek an audience with him, to explain that, treaty or not, the betrothal is off. Step. Aside. Now.”
“We will not. If you wish for an audience with the king, you may request one…but I doubt with his busy schedule he’ll have time to see you.”
The worry in Annalise’s voice as he spoke to her in the tower whispered in his ear, and despite how much he yearned to prove just how dangerous a well-trained Dovean could be, Soren stayed his hand. The fire in his chest still burned white-hot, but the guards had blocked the way just long enough for reason to finally take hold. He’d learned long ago to control his temper, and the situation was far too precarious to let a moment of anger burn down his plans. He was one man in a castle full of enemies, and his soldiers were somewhere out in the countryside.
Soren re-sheathed his sword. His father had spent too much money and forced him to study history and military strategy for far too many hours for him to become rash when the situation called for finesse, and it was much easier to deceive enemies who assumed he would comply. “Relay my urgent request for an audience to the king—if you don’t and I find out, your head will be on the line.”
“I’ll personally relay your message to the king’s steward if you swear to leave the castle and return to the barracks right now,” Matheus said as he stepped to Soren’s side and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I trust you know how to navigate without getting lost?”
“I do.”
“Then good luck, Captain Kierson. It is my fervent prayer to the Goddess that you and I do not see each other next on opposite sides of a battlefield.” Matheus held out his hand.
“From your mouth to the Goddess’s ears. I can’t say that it’s been fun, but I appreciate your aid today and wish you all the best,” Soren replied as he clasped Matheus’s arm.
He turned away from the hallway with every intention of going straight to the barracks to await the return of his men. Despite Annalise’s wishes, there was no way he would leave her behind in Rhinnea, although even if he wanted to, he doubted King Nelan would let him. The wilderness between Rea and Rhinnea’s northern port city was large enough for a horde of faux-bandits to carry out the king’s orders with enough space between their actions and the crown for plausible deniability.
As he passed through the portcullis, Soren was so busy contemplating how he’d break Annalise free from the tower that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late. Before he could draw his sword and defend himself, his assailants had him in a headlock that he couldn’t wriggle out of no matter how hard he struggled. The firm pressure on his neck made the blood in his head pound and his vision swim.
He struggled.
He fought.
Darkness.