Page 23 of The Masked Princess

“No, he doesn’t.” Soren paused, thinking of an offhand comment the high general made after the announcement of Annalise’s betrothal. General Kierson never spoke much, but he had a knack for saying a lot with only a few words. “He mentioned once how the betrothal put us in rather a difficult spot—something about Rhinnea using her as a weapon if they ever renewed hostilities, but how the peace was so delicate the king couldn’t easily refuse to honor their treaty.”

“It’s been decades since the last war—enough time for the peasants to get fat on peacetime… that is, if they weren’t taxed to within an inch of their lives. Despite her curse, Princess Annalise is very popular throughout the kingdom. If anything happened to her on her journey, or once she marries the Rhinnean king, it would be quite the provocation.” The colonel looked at Soren meaningfully, as if he was trying to convey something important, but then in the next breath his face relaxed and he shook his head. “Ah, but all this talk of strategy and diplomacy isn’t meant for the likes of us, an old colonel only a few years from being put out to pasture and a young captain just at the start of his career.”

“You’re in the prime of your life, sir. My father speaks highly of you,” Soren protested.

“Perhaps I’ll remember that and apply for a transfer to one of the cushy outposts closer to our southern border with Lorvan that my wife keeps bugging me about.” Colonel Lennil smiled, but there was no warmth in the expression. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you more men, but keep a wary eye out, Soren. Methinks big things are afoot, and the journey ahead of you is long and cold. You may find it quite difficult to keep the princess safe, both physically and emotionally.”

Soren heeded the warning in the words and dipped his head. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

CHAPTER 17

Their climb into the mountains took most of the next day, and the company camped overnight under a rocky ledge in the pass itself. The Rhinneans traveling with them kept to themselves and gave no indication of wishing to interact with the Doveans, but even from across the campsite, Soren could sense their smug satisfaction. They’d been right—the snows had already obscured most of the road and made travel difficult. If the company had been delayed even a few more days, he suspected the weather would have blocked their path completely.

When the snow grew nearly three feet deep, Soren directed six men to ride ahead in two rows of three abreast to pack it down. The soldiers rotated positions every ten minutes to keep the horses from getting too sweaty and overworked. It was slow going and meant that by the time the sun dipped toward the horizon they were just past the highest point of the pass. He was thankful that the horses pulling Annalise’s carriage were strong, sturdy beasts. Placed in the center of the caravan, they had little problem navigating the already-packed snow, although they struggled in the thin air. The Rhinneans brought up the rear and seemed more than content to keep to themselves and didn’t offer any help.

Thankfully, their descent the next morning, while still difficult, went faster, and it was midafternoon when they crossed into a dark woodland that marked the eastern edge of Rhinnea. They stopped by a stream an hour into the forest to give the horses a chance to rest, and Soren refilled his canteen.

“Lieutenant Rorarck, a word, please. Bring a spare stirrup leather. I think one of mine is nearly worn through,” Soren said as he waited for the others to drink their fill and eat a few bites after the arduous morning.

He feigned adjusting his horse’s tack while he waited for the lieutenant.

“Do you feel anything off?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he changed out his former stirrup, which was perfectly fine, with the new one, allowing his horse’s body to hide most of his face lest anyone be watching.

“Yeah, like the trees have eyes in them and they’re staring a hole in the back of my head when I’m not looking,” Rorarck said.

“Same.” Soren glanced around as he let his saddle flap fall into place, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Tell the others to be on high alert. I’m going to put the Rhinneans at the front of the column so they can ‘guide’ us. I don’t trust them at my back.”

“Aye, sir.”

The Rhinneans accepted the new position with an alacrity that made Soren’s unease skyrocket and set his teeth on edge. They continued on the road for several more hours, with the dull clopping of horse hooves, and jingle of tack, and creak of wagon wheels the only sound in the forest. When it was almost time to stop and make camp for the night, a slight rustle in the bushes drew Soren’s eye. Just as he turned his head to give it his full attention, something whistled past his ear and an arrow thunked into a tree.

“We’re under attack!” he yelled as his mount jerked twice, shuddered, and listed to the side. Soren withdrew his legs from the stirrups, but didn’t have time to throw himself off before the mare collapsed to the ground, trapping Soren under her.

He watched helplessly as ten bandits covered head-to-toe in green and beige cloaks with masks covering their faces sliced through his men in a coordinated attack, threw open the carriage door, and dragged Annalise out.

She screamed in fear, and Soren saw red. He roared in frustration and pushed with all his might, but no matter what he did he couldn’t free himself from his mount, and his efforts only entrenched him further in the snow and mud.

One bandit shoved his gloved hand under Annalise’s mask and muffled her screams. Then, as quickly as they came, they were gone, melting into the forest like his worst nightmare made flesh.

The entire attack occurred in less than a minute, and its breathtaking speed left Soren reeling.

“Go after them. Don’t let them get away!” Soren bellowed, still struggling against the body of his horse. Lieutenant Rorarck shouted a string of orders, and twenty men peeled off from the main force to pursue the bandits further into the woods.

It took several men to roll Soren’s horse off him—the poor beast had taken four arrows directly to the chest and the side, causing a near-instant death.

Every minute that ticked by felt like an hour to Soren. He’d sworn to protect Annalise with his life, and yet when she needed him most, he wasn’t able to help her.

Finally, he was free. Lieutenant Rorarck pulled Soren to his feet and steadied him for a moment. “How are you feeling, sir?”

Soren took a ginger step, then another one, wincing at the pain in his legs, hips, and back. “Worse for wear, but otherwise I’ll be okay.”

“Your mount wasn’t a little horse. Are you sure?”

“The snow helped cushion my fall.” Soren adjusted his sword belt and winced once more. “Ah, I think I’ll have quite the colorful bruises tomorrow, but I can walk and I should be able to ride just fine. What’s the status report?”

“It appears to have been a targeted attack. They must have known we were coming. Nothing was stolen except for Princess Annalise. Several of the horses and men were wounded; a few were killed. The bandits created a distraction, punched through our lines, extracted her, and then disappeared. If we’re lucky, the rescue team I sent after her will catch up to them and take her back.”

Soren frowned at the darkening sky and struggled to calm his racing heart. His first inclination was to steal someone’s mount and gallop into the woods after the abductors. His second was to march over to the Rhinnean delegation currently standing in a circle like they didn’t have a care in the world and shake them until they answered for why they hadn’t lifted a finger to help during the attack. It was suspicious that they and their mounts remained unharmed, although the circumstances were shaky at best. The caravan had left with great fanfare from Dovelan and traveled rather slowly. It certainly wasn’t out of the question that a criminal could ride ahead to tip off the bandits, and he didn’t wish to anger the Rhinneans more than necessary.