Page 17 of The Masked Princess

“Here are some biscuits, cookies, and cake to snack on. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be working on my embroidery in the corner,” Priscilla said, setting a plate piled with baked goods between them and a small plate to either side.

Soren took the seat across from Annalise and looked out the window. The table was low, and from her vantage point, she could see his fists clench and his knee bounce.

Annalise guessed he was upset about the assignment her father had given him and wanted to make amends. “I apologize for earlier in court. I’m afraid even if I’d known of my father’s request for you ahead of time, I couldn’t have stopped it, but I do wish he’d chosen someone else.”

Soren’s gaze cut toward her, and he went still. “You do?”

She sipped her tea and chose a small cookie from the plate, grateful that her gloves were still on. “Of course. You just returned home to Dovea; I’m sure being sent away so suddenly is quite bothersome.”

For some reason, Soren relaxed at her words. He exhaled, and his shoulders drooped infinitesimally, then he took his cup of tea and brought it to his lips, eyes flicking between her and the garden outside. “Actually, it’s no bother at all. You were one of the reasons I came back to Dovea, after all.”

“I was?”

“Of course.” A teasing smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I wanted to make sure you’d received all my letters. My paper, ink, and postage expenses were starting to pile up.”

Her face flushed with heat, and she looked everywhere but at him. “I did get your letters. They were wonderful; thank you for sending them. You must think me very rude for my lack of response. I fear that after the death of my mother, I had little to say, and I doubt my governesses would have approved of my writing you.”

“I expected no response; especially not after I heard what happened. You must think me terribly self-absorbed for continuing to write for so long.”

“No!” The strength of Annalise’s denial surprised even herself. Soren’s eyes widened at her outburst, and she looked away again as another flush of heat suffused her cheeks. “When you left, you promised you’d write, and you kept your word. Your letters were wonderful. They took me away to distant lands and gave me something to look forward to. I will treasure them always.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His deep voice lightened and curled as if he was holding back a laugh. “But to answer your question seriously, I returned because I’d heard that my childhood best friend had grown into quite the beautiful young lady and couldn’t believe that the girl with mud on her skirts and leaves in her hair could be anything more than a regular ragamuffin.”

She steeled herself for judgment and lifted her eyes to his. “And? What do you think now?”

He stared at her as he sipped his tea, reached for something off the plate between them, and even as he bit into the cookie. Unlike just a few minutes before, when his eyes had jumped over her face like a sparrow searching for seed, now his gaze lingered and traced in smooth lines, as if he was studying her features and committing them to memory.

Annalise waited… and when no answer was forthcoming, realized with a start that she’d placed him in an awkward position. As the newly minted captain of her guard, he needed to remain in her good graces, but the Soren she knew, while not afraid to flatter, was also unflinchingly honest. If her features were not to his liking, she might have forced him to make a difficult decision.

“You don’t have to answer me; your silence speaks volumes. Here, I’m practically done with my tea. I’ll put my mask on, and you can regale Priscilla and me with tales of your time at sea like you promised last night,” she said, setting her cup on its saucer and making to stand.

“No, wait.”

She froze halfway out of her chair and looked down at her forearm, where Soren’s hand rested, stopping her from moving away. Her blood stilled, then pounded like a war drum until she registered he was wearing gloves, and that her long sleeves had remained in place.

“Please don’t take offense at my silence. I was simply trying to figure out how to say that the port gossip didn’t nearly do you justice.” Soren’s mouth opened, shut, then he wet his lips, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “You are an exquisite creature made of sunlight and open sky, and it’s a travesty that you must hide behind that mask when your beauty so clearly deserves to be worshipped.”

Annalise looked from his hand to his eyes, which burned with a strange fire that struck her speechless.

He tugged on her arm, and she allowed herself to sink back into her chair. A faint blush tinged Soren’s cheeks as he picked up the teapot and refilled each of their cups. “Please excuse my impertinence just now, Princess Annalise. I’m afraid I was quite unprepared to see you without your mask and have not been the most courteous visitor. I will endeavor to rectify my performance moving forward.”

“All is forgiven as long as you promise me that this isn’t all a ploy to get out of telling me about your adventures at sea. Your letters were rather short and didn’t nearly do them the justice I suspect they deserve,” Annalise replied once she found her voice.

“I’ll tell you as many stories as you would like, Your Highness. Where would you wish for me to start? With the drunk seagull? The worst storm we ever had? The time that our cook accidentally ordered a barrel full of salted beets instead of one full of salted beef?”

Annalise considered his offer, then smiled. “I’d like you to start at the very beginning, with your first day on the ship.”

CHAPTER 12

Three days later, Soren watched over Annalise in the garden as she finished harvesting the last viable herbs of autumn. He’d offered to help, but she turned him down, and he had to settle for holding the rapidly filling basket. One of the servant girls stood at the end of the row, chaperoning from a distance.

“Where’s Priscilla?” He drew his cloak around himself to ward off the worst of the biting wind. “Was she not feeling up for a jaunt in this bracing weather?”

“Priscilla hails from a land far to the north of here. Just this morning she compared the weather now to a, and I quote, ‘rather balmy autumn.’” Annalise bent down to examine the row of herbs. “But to answer your question, she is supervising the packing of my trousseau with the other maids.”

“Do they not need you to supervise?” he asked.

“There’s no need. I suspect if I insisted on helping, Priscilla would chase me out of my own chambers, royal title or not. Besides, the healers’ guild needs these herbs. I wish I could give them more; I’d turn over the entire garden to their care, if I could. I worry about what will happen after I’m gone.” Annalise rocked back on her heels and looked up at Soren, her white mask an impassive expanse. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”