Page 12 of The Masked Princess

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 Everet 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 Everet 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 toward 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 Everet wrapped one arm around Larken’s waist and smiled down at the woman before turning to the crowd. “Larken is with child. Dovea, celebrate with me tonight, as we will soon have a new heir!”

The entire room roared so strongly that Annalise wondered if the ceiling would fall. When the cheering stopped, King Everet 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 sip of water, lifting her mask away from her face just enough to give her room to maneuver. She waited until after dessert was served before excusing herself and going to her harp.

She settled herself on her small chair and brushed imaginary crumbs from her dress to give herself something to do while the other musicians took their break. 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. She wished she could brush away her worry about her future as easily as she could brush the imaginary crumbs off the smooth fabric. With a deep breath, she composed herself, and lifted her hands to the strings.

At least with her harp she could find some sense of comfort. With the announcement of Larken’s pregnancy, the room buzzed with energy, and when the king ordered several tables cleared 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 celebratory mood of the room. As the songs poured from her fingertips, she watched the dancers. She wasn’t concerned about missing a note, although she’d spent so many hours practicing she probably could have played blindfolded. Her father kept dancing with Larken, and Soren seemed to always have a different lady in his arms. Annalise noted 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. Afterward, 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.

CHAPTER 9

Annalise’s heart skipped a beat at finding Soren so close, his warm brown eyes watching her.

“Hello, Soren, or I suppose I should call you Lord Soren now, shouldn’t I?” she replied. Her mask may hide the majority of her face, but nothing could hide the crinkle of her eyes or the lilt in her voice.

Thankfully, he picked up on her tone and smiled in return, leaning close and lowering his voice as if confiding a secret. “I’d actually prefer to be Captain Soren, but to you, just Soren is fine. Will you dance with me?”

Annalise froze. Her eyes darted from his smiling face to her, then back again, until finally she lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. The risk is much too great.”

“What risk?”

She startled at the artless question and looked away—back to her harp and the safety it represented. He’d been at court earlier in the day, surely more than long enough to hear of her curse, if he hadn’t heard of it before. The Soren she’d known was never mean, but him paying her attention and then forcing her to reject him felt borderline cruel, and tears pricked at her eyes for the second time that evening.

“Princess Annalise, my deepest apologies if I offended you. I know I’m not a prince, but I had hoped you would grant your old playmate the favor of one dance. If I was untoward, please forgive me,” Soren said. His voice sounded much closer than expected. She turned to find him crouching next to her, only an arm’s length away.

“There was no offense taken. I was simply not expecting your offer,” she replied. She ducked her head and lifted her mask ever so slightly to wipe her eyes.

“I’ve made you cry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing; don’t bother yourself with it.”

“If it’s something that bothers you, it’s not nothing.” His expression was so open and warm that she feared if she looked at him for too long, she’d forget how to look away.

“Please excuse me. I’m not used to receiving dance requests,” she said as she finished dabbing at her eyes and replaced her mask.

“I see.” He looked at her hands, which were now resting on the harp in preparation to play once he left. “All of that being the case, it would make my evening immeasurably more fun if you would deign to grant your childhood friend one dance.”