Page 31 of The Masked Princess

CHAPTER 24

Annalise had never thought of a throne room as a cozy place, and yet, as she looked at the wooden paneling, fire burning merrily in the huge hearth, and the ceiling that was half a high as the one in Dovea, she could think of no better way to describe it.

Dovea’s throne room was a large, stately affair with gray stone columns, a white stone floor, and blue tapestries that exuded power and wealth. Even though Murana’s was much smaller, something about the thick wood columns and the solid stone floor gave the impression that it had been built to stand the test of time.

While the throne room itself may have felt smaller, the throne was anything but. It was made of burnished chestnut wood covered in ornate carvings and had two carved wings extending from its back, each nearly ten feet tall.

A woman, with her golden hair swept back into a braided crown and a thick bear pelt slung around her shoulders, sat on the throne. As Annalise drew closer, she noted the laugh lines around the lady’s bright blue eyes and judged her to be in her late-forties.

When she reached the area in front of the dais, Annalise dipped into a small curtsy. “Greetings. Please forgive my indiscretion, but I believe Captain Padrin referred to you as Chief Telimary, while my maid said that you are the High Lady of Murana. How am I to address you?”

The woman watched her in silence, her face impassive save for one long finger that tapped her lips. Annalise held her curtsy, watching from underneath her eyelashes. There might have been no love lost between her and her governesses, but she’d become well-versed in court etiquettes of all kind, and if put to the test, she knew she could hold the position for far longer than any sane person would let the silence stretch.

Her legs had just started burning when the woman spoke. “In times of peace, my official title is High Lady Telimary of Murana. In times of war and to certain outsiders, I am Chief Telimary. For now, you may address me as the citizens of Murana do—as High Lady Telimary. Welcome, Princess Annalise of Dovea. I understand that you have traveled a long way to our humble valley.”

Annalise stood, grateful for the reprieve, and folded her hands in front of her. “Yes, it has been quite the journey, but I am exceedingly thankful for the help of Captain Padrin and his men. I fear that without them I would still be in the company of the bandits.”

“So I’ve heard.” High Lady Telimary leaned back on her throne, her finger still on her lips. “I’ve also heard of your curse. Tell me, why is it you insist on wearing your mask, even when it’s broken such as it is?”

Annalise’s fingers went to her white mask, tracing the sharp edge as she chose her next words carefully. In many ways, it felt as necessary as her shoes or her gown. She hated her mask but suddenly wondered when she’d last considered going without it.

“I… I’ve had it for so long that I didn’t think about not wearing it. It started out as a safety precaution, but now it feels like a part of me,” she finally said.

“Is it something that you enjoy?”

She hesitated, but there was something about High Lady Telimary that loosened her tongue. “Not particularly, no. Actually, to be honest, I hate it.”

High Lady Telimary nodded as if she understood. “I see. In that case, would you consider removing it so that I can see who I am speaking with?”

With fingers that were steady despite her thudding heart, Annalise undid the ribbons of her mask.

After she revealed her face, the lady stood from her throne and stalked forward. They stared at each other for several seconds before the older woman’s expression crumpled. “You look just like her. Your eyes, your nose, the structure of your cheekbones and jaw are more familiar to me than my own. Looking at you now, I see your mother staring back at me,” she whispered.

Annalise’s eyes filled with tears at the unexpected mention of her mother. “You knew her?”

“Elvira was my younger sister. We were like two peas in a pod, and when I heard of her death, it was the saddest day of my life.”

“If what you say is true that means…”

“Yes.” She took Annalise’s gloved hands in her own and squeezed them tightly. “Princess Annalise of Dovea, I am your aunt. As I said before, you may call me High Lady Telimary, but I would prefer that you call me Helene.”

Annalise stared at her aunt as her mother’s final long-forgotten words rang in her ears.

“One day, if you make it to the valley between the walls, my home kingdom of Murana, my people there will teach you our ways and our language. That is your birthright, as much as any plans your father may have for you. In Murana, you will always be welcome.”

CHAPTER 25

In the years following Queen Elvira’s death, Annalise’s memories of the time before she was sick faded into nothing more than a nebulous outline. She’d loved her mother dearly, but the circumstances surrounding her curse left a bitter taste in her mouth and far more questions than she had answers.

Still, as she followed Helene to the infirmary, Annalise was reminded of all the times she’d walked beside her mother through the halls at Dovea. Helene’s nose was more hawkish and her jaw a hair stronger, but the resemblance between her and her sister was strong. As they walked, Helene told Annalise about the history of various weapons or tapestries on the wall—small talk to put her at ease, and also a history lesson about the half of her family tree that she’d given up ever knowing.

It took no time at all for them to reach the infirmary, which was a stone building separated from the main castle by a wide walkway. Two rows of beds were inside, with a wide aisle running down the center of the room. Each bed was made up with a mattress of straw, white sheets, a wool blanket, and a pillow. The room was almost empty; there were no sick or injured Muranans, and Doveans occupied the six beds on the far end. Soren sat propped up against the wall in the bed furthest from the door, but he was too busy speaking with a healer to see his visitors.

As Annalise walked down the center aisle, she looked around. Several glass windows let in light, and a merry fire burned inside the hearth. Overall, the atmosphere was calm and peaceful, with the exception of Soren, who wore a fierce scowl on his face. One of the healers stood at his bedside, speaking animatedly with him. She glanced over her shoulder, then bowed as Helene and Annalise drew near

“Mairu, this is Princess Annalise, my niece. She is the Dovean princess we’ve heard so much about, and these men were assigned to her protection detail. How are our guests?” Helene asked as she came to a stop at the foot of Soren’s bed.

His scowl morphed first into surprise and then shock when he saw Helene and an unmasked Annalise standing at her side.