Chapter 55

Annalise stared speechlessly at King Nelan, who stood over Soren’s crumpled body clutching a long, bloody dagger in his good hand. 

“You’re an honorable man, Soren Kierson, I’ll give that…but there is no honor in love or war.” Nelan spat next to Soren’s body and walked to his throne, tossing a dark look over his shoulder at Annalise when he reached the dais. “You may say your last goodbyes to your bodyguard, Princess, and then we will finish our matrimonial rites.” 

Soren groaned and rolled onto his back, and Annalise fell to her knees.

“I really should have known better; my father always told me that I was far too gullible and had too soft of a heart for my own good,” he said with a feeble smile. 

Annalise stared down at his side, where blood oozed out of the large gash carved from his ribs down to his hip.

“How bad is it?” 

Her eyes flitted from the wound to Soren’s eyes and back again. She forced a smile to her lips. “Not that bad. It’s like you said; it’s hardly more than a scratch. We’ll get a healer here, and you’ll be fine.” 

“Your voice may sound as confident as any, but your face makes you a terrible liar. Be honest with me, Annalise.” 

Her forced smile fell even as she frantically tried to stem the flow of blood with pressure from her hands. “I’m no healer, but I have spent a fair amount of time in their guilds when I dropped off herbs and… well… it’s bad, Soren. Very bad.” 

He glanced down at the rapidly spreading pool of blood. “Ah, well that puts a damper on our travel plans, doesn’t it?” He reached up to touch a lock of her hair, but out of habit she drew back.  

“No, don’t go,” he gasped. 

Reluctantly, she leaned forward again, taking care to ensure that her hair was far enough from her face that he wouldn’t accidentally touch her skin. 

“Please give me one thing,” he said, his voice weak and strangely wet. 

“Anything.”   

“One kiss from you.”  

“You’ll die.” 

A shadow of pain flashed over his face, and Soren shuddered, his eyes unfocusing for a second at a point just beyond her ear. When they slid back to hers, he smiled. “Annalise. My precious, sweet, darling Annalise. It pains me to tell you this, but I’m going to die either way.” He reached up and cupped her cheek with his ungloved hand, bare skin to bare skin, uncaring of her curse. “At least this way I can die with a smile on my face.” 

She ignored her first inclination, which was to turn her head and watch the familiar dark purple bruise spread down his arm, and instead searched his gaze. His smile faltered under her scrutiny, hand dropping from her cheek. “Don’t do it unless you want to. So many have already tried to manipulate you; I won’t be another. I love you so dearly that just having you here with me as I draw my final breaths is more than enough.” 

Annalise choked back a laugh even as she wanted to dissolve into tears. “No, Soren, don’t worry. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything else more.” Even amid the crowded throne room, all she had eyes for was him. She leaned forward, her loose hair falling to either side of his face like a curtain, shielding them from the world. 

Soren cupped her cheek once more, and she removed her gloves before returning the gesture, then leaned forward to brush her lips against his. 

His hand moved from her cheek into her hair, and then his fingers were tangled in her curls, and he pulled her closer as if he couldn’t get enough. 

All Annalise knew was the warmth and softness of Soren’s lips, the beat of his heart under her hands, and the firm and yet somehow comforting way in which he gripped the back of her head, like she was a drink of water and he was a man dying of thirst. 

The moment stretched in time, and then Soren groaned, and it snapped. 

When they finally broke apart, tears streamed down Annalise’s face. She threw her arms across him, unable to bring herself to watch her curse take effect. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I love you more than anything, and I couldn’t help you,” she sobbed into his chest.  

His hand rubbed soothing circles against her back. “It was worth it. Every second, every minute of our time together was worth it. I would do it all over again if I had the choice, my love,” he whispered. 

He breathed in. He breathed out. 

His chest stilled, and everything went silent. 

Annalise’s heart broke into a million frozen pieces.

She screamed her grief and her fury at losing the man she loved.

She didn’t know how long she screamed, but when her voice finally gave out, she collapsed next to Soren’s side, completely spent. From her obstructed view lying on the floor, she could see the gray stone of the floor, a myriad of shoes and the colorful hems of dresses. 

The colors felt like a personal affront. Soren wasn’t breathing and, unlike before, there was no way this was a trick of Nelan’s. She’d felt the life drain out of him, and her future seemed as gray as the cold stone floors.  

She’s get up and avenge his death; she just needed a moment to grieve.

One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths and her grief turned into a raging fire that threatened to burn her from the inside out. Something would burn. No, someone would burn. Annalise would make sure that Nelan didn’t leave the room alive if it was the last thing that she did. 

She rocked to her feet, eyes tracking the thin trail of blood to the dais where the Rhinnean king sat with an attendant bathing the wound on his shoulder. 

“You broke your word to him. You are as dishonorable as you are a coward, and you will pay for it with your life,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Don’t act so surprised; he should have known I’d renege on my promise.” Nelan waved his hand in the air as if a lazy fly buzzed around him. “Now, come back to the dais and we’ll finish our ceremony.” 

“I would rather die than marry you.” 

“Die? No, I can’t have that…but alternatives can be arranged. Guards, take her into custody,” Nelan said in a bored voice, as if he was ordering a snack tray. 

Annalise was ready for them. She grabbed her knife from her pocket and slashed at her fingertips, then cut a line along her cheek for good measure, just in case her fingers didn’t bleed as much as she hoped. 

Fortunately, Nelan’s penchant for theatrics and pageantry meant that the guards standing at the front of the room were in decorative dress and not wearing protective gear. A flick of her fingertips and the guard closest to her was sprayed with several droplets of blood. Immediately the skin around his face and neck turned purple, and he brought his hands to his face and turned away, screaming. 

She had time to infect two more guards before they backed away far enough to give her a wide berth while still keeping themselves between her and Nelan. Annalise growled and stepped forward, only for Nelan to shake his head and raise his finger. “Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that before you consider the consequences. If you’re going to act like a mad dog, I’ll be forced to treat you like one.” 

A line of guards spread out from behind the throne and Annalise froze when she saw them holding drawn bows aimed directly at her. 

A sense of calm settled over her. After this, there was no way that Nelan would let her get close to him. She had only one chance to take him out, and it was now. She didn’t look behind her at Priscilla or Elsabeth; she’d told her maids to run, and they’d chosen their own path, just as she must choose hers. 

She could feel the blood dripping down her skin and pooling in the palms of her hand. All she needed was for some of the splatter to hit Nelan and the Goddess would take care of the rest. Annalise shifted her weight over the balls of her feet and tensed her muscles for one final explosive push.