Chapter 8: The Approach
As she waited for the servants to serve the next course, Princess Annalise looked over the members of court in the dining hall, searching for one face in particular. Earlier, when Soren strode down the center of the throne room like a victorious conqueror come home, her cheeks had warmed and she’d been grateful for the cover of her mask. When she was a young girl she’d had a crush on the cute boy who’d been sent away to learn the seafaring trade, but the man who came back nearly took her breath away. His face had lost its childish roundness, revealing a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His hair kept its reddish-brown color, but instead of sticking up every which way like a tossed pile of hay, he’d tamed it into a short dashing style that curled over his forehead in a soft wave like a gentle ripple on a quiet pond. His brown eyes were open and honest, but still held the mischievous light that she remembered so well. It had been a long time since she’d last seen him, and the years had been more than kind.
There he was, sitting at one of the upper tables. His father, High General Kierson, usually dined with hers at the other end of the High Table. She guessed the head butler had seated Soren strategically so that her father could keep an eye on him after the interest Lady Evelina had shown earlier. Annalise tried not to think about how the sight of Lady Evelina flirting with Soren had made her chest twist with an ugly jealousy.
Soren conducted himself with ease, his white shirt and blue coat stylishly cut and pairing nicely with his black breeches. He laughed freely, and his dining companions kept their attention focused on him as though they were flowers and he was the sun. Soon, his table was among the liveliest in the entire hall.
She felt eyes on her and dragged hers from Soren’s table to find Selveg, the Rhinnean ambassador, watching her from his seat at the back of the hall. When she turned her attention to him, he nodded and raised his glass to her. Princess Annalise returned his nod before focusing on the food on her plate, having seen enough to tide her through the evening. A crumb from her roll fell on her dress, and she brushed it away. Priscilla had insisted on the blue and silver dress that morning, saying that it made her look like a clear noon on a snowy day, whatever that meant, but now she wondered if all the embroidery wasn’t too showy. Of everyone at court who’d heard the Rhinnean delegation’s demands, she considered herself to be the most shocked. Never had she heard so much as a whisper that of her betrothal to the Rhinnean prince, and the announcement and subsequent implication that she must either become his wife or the two kingdoms would go to war once more almost caused her to faint in shock.
She still didn’t understand why the Rhinneans would want Dovea to honor their request, especially after her curse. She wished she could brush away her worry about her future as easily as she’d brushed the crumbs off her gown. There was nothing that could be done; she may be the Crown Princess, but her fate was in the hands of the king and his advisors. Annalise knew better than to count on what little support he’d shown her the evening before as anything more than what it was—using her as a pawn in the spat with his latest mistress.
“Annalise, we never talked about what happened yesterday,” her father said in between bites.
Her hand, which had been reaching for her goblet, stilled. She’d hoped that the conversation, if it were to happen, would be in private chambers. It appeared she wasn’t nearly so fortunate. “What is it you wish to talk about?”
“Are the reports of what happened in the market true? That you killed your attacker with only a touch of your hand?”
“I also spat on his face, but essentially, yes.”
King Evert stared at her, his drink halfway to his lips, and Annalise put her hands on the table so he could see her nervously toying with her napkin, hoping the display of vulnerability would stop him from thinking the worst. “He’d trapped one of my arms, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get my glove off, but I managed to knock my mask askew. The spit distracted him enough to give me an opening to remove my glove.”
“I see.” He turned back to his drink, swirling his wine around in the cup. “A curse like yours would be very useful for a country at war. Imagine the effect that arrows dipped in your blood would have.”
“Imagine what an assassin could do with such a ready poison supply so near to the crown. All it would take is a covert murder, and then dumping the cursed body in the water supply for the entire castle and town to come to ruin,” Larken said.
Despite the bitter wind that howled outside and foretold a tough winter, the dining hall was warm and the fires burned merrily in their hearth. At Larken’s words, sweat dripped down Annalise’s back, and the formerly cozy room suddenly felt stifling. A swell of laughter drifted from elsewhere in the hall, and she wondered at how carefree they could be, as if life or death decisions weren’t being weighed at the High Table.
King Evert frowned and drained his wine goblet. “That is an excellent point, Larken. We certainly would not want to endanger anyone else.” He turned to Annalise, and the look on his face reminded her of when Orena made the accusation that she’d intentionally poisoned her. “Tell me, girl, if you were to go with the Rhinneans and they ordered you to hurt Dovea, what would you do? Would you stay loyal to the country of your birth, or would you seek to curry favor with your new home?”
His expression shifted, reminding Annalise of the burning pain of her mother’s words, the heartbreak at the news that her mother was dead, and the utter helplessness she’d felt when she realized she was forever cursed.
“Don’t lie to me. You may wear a mask, but I’ll still hear the deceit in your voice,” he said, and she judged she’d weighed her thoughts for too long.
“I am a Dovean first and foremost, Your Majesty. I love my kingdom more than I love myself, and I’d never willingly do anything that might hurt anyone within our borders. If they were to order me such a thing, I would refuse, and then because I know that such an order wouldn’t truly be a choice, I would do whatever I could to stop them, even at the cost of my life,” she replied.
“They could still use your dead body for nefarious purposes.”
It was rather grisly, talking about her death while she was at the dinner table, but Annalise met the challenge head-on. “They can try, but we still don’t know if I must be alive for my curse to take effect. My laundry has never caused anyone harm; it is entirely possible that once I die the curse will be broken. If that is what it takes, I would gladly give my life in service to my kingdom.”
The earnestness in her voice must have rung true, because King Evert nodded once and resumed eating.
The rest of the meal passed quietly, and Annalise was eyeing her harp as the servants carried out the dessert course when King Evert stood, goblet in hand.
“I have an announcement. A happy announcement that will usher in an era of peace for our kingdom and remove any lingering doubts as to our stability,” he said into the now-silent room.
Annalise’s heart dropped into her stomach as he turned towards her and smiled, but it was Larken’s hand that he took, and he pulled his concubine gently to her feet. She stood tall at his side; her rose-colored dress glowing like a sunrise in the candlelight. King Evert wrapped one arm around Larken’s waist and smiled down at the woman before turning to the crowd. “Larken is pregnant. Dovea, celebrate with me tonight, as we will soon have a new heir!”
The entire room roared so strongly that Annalise wondered the ceiling didn’t fall down. When the cheering stopped, King Evert and Larken retook their seats, the concubine looking supremely pleased with herself.
“Congratulations, Larken. I look forward to meeting my new little brother or sister,” Annalise said.
Larken stared at her with obvious distaste and leaned close. “If I have my way, you’ll never meet my son,” she whispered in Annalise’s ear. Then Larken leaned back and smiled brightly at Annalise. “Oh, I do so look forward to letting you babysit. I’m sure that with your curse no one would ever dare try to hurt the young prince,” she exclaimed, her voice carrying over the celebrations.
There was a beat where the conversations in the hall stilled as every eye turned to the High Table, and then they resumed, albeit somewhat more muted than before. Larken turned away to speak to several well-wishers, leaving Annalise to stare down into her soup and fight back tears as the realization struck home that instead of Dovea’s future, she was now one of its biggest threats.
Annalise swallowed roughly as she pretended to take a spoonful of soup, lifting her mask away from her face just enough to give her room to maneuver. She waited until after the dessert course was served before excusing herself and going to her harp.
At least at her harp she could find some sense of comfort. With the announcement of Larken’s pregnancy, the room was in a celebratory mood, and when the King ordered several tables cleared to make room so he could dance with the mother of his future child, everyone cheered. Annalise played along with the other instruments and let herself get swept up in the joy of creating music.
As she played, she glanced now and then at the dancers; as one of the backup instruments she wasn’t as concerned about missing a note, although she’d spent so many hours practicing the harp that she probably could have played blindfolded. Her father danced with Larken, and Soren seemed to always have a new lady in his arms. Annalise noted that he was a wonderful dancer, and his partners were very pleased with his skills if their smiles and laughter were anything to go by.
A difficult song came up, one in which she had a starring role, and Annalise turned her full attention to her music. Afterwards, the musicians paused for a break of a few minutes, and she sat back in her chair, sipping a cup of water a servant had thoughtfully left on the side table. She judged from the mood of the crowd that the revelry would last until the early morning, and started planning when she would retire to her rooms.
“Hello, Princess Annalise. It’s been a long time.”
Annalise looked up to find Soren standing directly in front of her.