Page 49 of The Masked Princess

Finally, he nodded his approval. “Your Highness, I’ve heard many things about you, but none do your beauty justice.”

“You flatter me, Your Majesty. Even in Dovea, we know of the beautiful ladies in the Rhinnean court.”

“You will outshine them all.” He reached out a gloved hand, and Annalise hesitated.

“Don’t worry, I know about your curse. As you can see, I’ve taken the proper precautions, and I am greatly pleased that you have done so as well,” he said with a curt nod to her gloves.

At his encouragement, Annalise placed her hand in his. “I’m sure you have many things you wish to discuss regarding our impending nuptials,” she said.

His beefy fingers tightened around her delicate hand like a snake constricting around a small mouse. “I have some questions, yes, but it can all wait.” He raised his voice so that it carried to both of their groups. “I understand you’ve had quite the journey here. I am deeply sorry about the bandits, my dear princess. We’ve tried to keep impoverished Doveans away from our border for years now, but nothing seems to stop their raids or their greed. It’s a pity that you were caught in the crossfire. No doubt those depraved men were planning to use you to bargain with me.”

Annalise lifted her head at the perceived slight. Her time with the bandits had been fraught with peril and terror, but she was positive they weren’t her countrymen. “Your Royal Highness, I am afraid you’ve been misinformed. The bandits were not Dovean. My people would have never attacked me or my men.”

Nelan’s amiable smile tightened at the edges and his brow darkened ever so slightly, but instead of worrying Annalise, the gesture soothed her. For weeks she’d wondered what kind of man her betrothed would be. She’d heard of the Rhinnean court—first the faintest of whispers in Dovea and then the rumors in Orighet, but now that the King of Rhinnea was standing before her in the flesh, her anxiety calmed. The dance they were currently engaged in was one she’d seen many times in her father’s court, and the annoyance flickering behind King Nelan’s expression set her on familiar footing.

Before her betrothed could chastise her, Annalise spoke again. “The bandits were terrifying, lawless men. I’ve heard such tales of honor and valor about Rhinneans that I can’t believe they came from either of our kingdoms. Perhaps they were shades born of nightmare, evil specters of darkness taken physical form in an ancient forest who were on the prowl for innocent maidens. Their attack was quite shocking, and not something I would ever wish to repeat or relive. Even thinking of it now makes me feel quite faint.” As she spoke, she allowed her voice to rise an octave and gain a certain breathy quality, and she swayed on her feet, as if the very thought of the bandits made her weak in the knees.

The ruse worked—King Nelan’s brow unfurrowed and his smile loosened. “Don’t fear, Princess. I assure you Rea is quite secure and well-guarded. Once you are within her walls, you won’t ever have to leave again.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Annalise said as she pulled her hand away from Nelan’s and feigned dabbing at her cheeks with a handkerchief.

Nelan’s eyes flicked over her shoulder. “Ah, you must be the captain of Her Highness’s guard. I’ve heard much about you, Soren Kierson.”

“As I have you, Your Majesty.”

Annalise turned just in time to see Soren perform a sweeping, elegant bow that was so deep it bordered on mocking.

“Yes, well, do you have a reason to be interrupting my parley with my fiancée?” Nelan asked, his deep voice roughening.

“Her Highness said that she was feeling faint, so I’ve come to ensure the safety of both herself and of you, Your Majesty.”

“You think I cannot handle a fainting woman?”

Soren’s face was impassive, although Annalise may have imagined that she saw the slightest tick of his left eyelid. “I would never suggest such a thing. Considering the nature of Princess Annalise’s curse, my intent was only to avoid a diplomatic incident. If a strip of skin were to reveal itself when she fainted and you, in your gallantry, caught her, I shudder to think of the consequences to either of you.”

“Either of us?” King Nelan raised one eyebrow.

“What Captain Kierson is saying is that my father charged him not only with my protection but also with my punishment if I were to use my curse. Please forgive him. I’m sure he doesn’t mean any impertinence, but we’ve suffered through a long journey, and I fear the tempers of my men are running hot,” Annalise said.

She’d kept her head demurely bowed as she spoke and wished she could stomp on Soren’s foot and force him to back down instead of staring at King Nelan like two wild stallions facing off.

“I see.” King Nelan put his index finger under her chin and lifted it until she was staring him full in the face. “My ambassador said that the Dovean princess was cursed, but he said nothing about your peacemaking and diplomacy talents, let alone your beauty. It is an insult to you, and I will have him flogged for not representing you fairly.”

“I’m sure he meant no harm, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

“I’m certain he didn’t, but one thing you’ll find here is that I don’t suffer fools or incompetence lightly.” The king stepped away, and Annalise suddenly remembered how to breathe. “I would enjoy riding through the streets of Rea with you by my side. Considering the history between our two peoples, I think it would be a good idea to get them used to the idea of an alliance sooner rather than later. What do you say, Princess Annalise?”

Annalise nodded without hesitation. “It sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Perfect.” He turned, whistling two high notes and two low ones to his men, and a groom dressed in a red and gold livery strode forth. “I brought a suitable mount just in case our introduction went as well as I hoped. I pray he is to your liking.”

Annalise appraised the gray horse the groom led with a critical eye, as if she could judge the intentions of her betrothed by the horse he offered. The gelding was of medium height and build, but his head was fine with large, clear, inquisitive, dark brown eyes and delicate ears, and his coat was the color of melting spring snow. As she watched him walk toward her, she noted his easy gait and his clean, well-muscled legs. His bridle was made of polished black leather, and a red saddle pad trimmed in gold sat under a shining black sidesaddle.

“He looks to be a fine beast,” she said as she accepted the reins from the groom.

“His name is Misthaven. His mother is a favored mare given to me as a gift by a desert kingdom far to the south when I came of age, and his father is one of our best stallions, the same sire as my current mount. He is as gentle as they come. In fact, I don’t believe he’s ever spooked, let alone thrown a rider, even when first broken to saddle. If you like him, he is yours.”

Her hands paused in their stroking of the gelding’s nose. “A prince among horses, then. You honor me with such a generous gift, Your Majesty.”