Page 60 of The Masked Princess

The current lady he escorted was one of Annalise’s favorites; she was an apt listener, quick to smile, and when Nelan was making an example of someone at court, she never seemed to relish the spectacle of pain and punishment. She was from a good, respectable family from the northern region. Her father had a reputation for fairness, her mother was a quiet woman with watchful eyes, and her two younger sisters were quite well behaved.

By all appearances, she’d make a suitable wife for Soren, and judging by the attention he paid her, Soren seemed to agree.

Annalise had gotten her wish—Soren appeared to be making great strides toward a happy life with a woman he could love, hold, and kiss to his heart’s content.

She’d just never expected that when he moved on, it would feel like he took her heart with him.

She sighed and turned back to her book. The guards had shut her door, Elsabeth and Priscilla were out running errands and doing chores, and she tried her best to enjoy a rare moment alone.

She’d hardly read a chapter when the door to her chambers slammed open and Priscilla ran through as though a pack of ravenous wolves were chasing her. “Princess Annalise, I have news. King Nelan has moved your nuptials. You are due to wed him three days from now,” she said, chest heaving as she leaned forward and braced her hands on her knees.

Annalise dropped her book. It bounced off the side of the table in front of her, knocking a teacup, teapot, and saucer to the ground with a resounding crash. “What are you saying, Priscilla? You must be mistaken. He was quite clear that he didn’t want to rush anything, and spring equinox is still weeks away.”

“It’s what all the servants are saying. The whole castle is abuzz.”

“I—I don’t understand.” Annalise picked the book up with trembling hands and set it to the side, but didn’t trust her legs enough to stand.

She’d believed she still had plenty of time to get to know Nelan and to say her goodbyes to Soren. The thought of being Nelan’s wife and Rhinnea’s queen by the end of the week felt as foreign and wrong as the idea of hugging a child without gloves or sleeves.

Before Annalise could fully process what was happening, Elsabeth ran into the room. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, then slid to the ground. Despite her heaving chest, her face was nearly as white as the snow outside, and her normally neat hair was in disarray.

The collapse of her maid gave strength to Annalise’s limbs. She rose to her feet and rushed to Elsabeth’s side, her concern overriding her normal caution.

“Elsabeth, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Annalise asked, falling to her knees beside her friend.

Elsabeth leaned forward and held up her hand. “I’m—fine—just—ran—far,” she said in between gasps. “Lots of stairs. Just give me a minute.”

Annalise stayed by Elsabeth’s side, gratefully accepting a cool cloth from Priscilla and dabbing it over her forehead and neck before the older woman straightened, her arms slung over her knees. She leaned her head against the door and took Annalise’s gloved hand in hers.

Annalise’s breath stilled at the physical contact. Elsabeth had been one of the few to touch her occasionally, but the contact never happened without reason, and the look on her face was terrible.

“What’s going on, Elsabeth?” she ground out, suddenly unable to breathe and overcome with the fear that Soren was hurt.

“It’s your father, Your Highness. He died. One of the Rhinnean ambassadors that stayed behind in Dovea sent a messenger pigeon.”

“My father… is dead?”

“He is.”

CHAPTER 45

Annalise reached Elsabeth’s side and slumped against the door before letting herself slide slowly to the ground. The pleasantly warm room suddenly felt stifling hot and lacking in air, and her face broke out in perspiration.

After resting her head against her knees and fighting for several deep breaths, she finally choked out one word, “How?”

“I don’t know. I ran to tell you as soon as I heard the news.” Elsabeth stood up straight and offered her hand, but Annalise ignored it, choosing to lean against the sturdy wooden door instead.

“At least this explains Nelan moving the wedding forward.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled croak.

Priscilla explained the change in wedding plans to Elsabeth while Annalise waited for the grief to come, to overwhelm her and pull her under like it had with her mother’s passing… but there was nothing.

No, that wasn’t true—there was only a whisper of something else. It took her a full minute to name the emotion, and then another to accept it, as the whisper of relief turned into a small flame of hope.

“Princess, what do you want to do? Do you need anything?” Elsabeth asked, hand on Annalise’s shoulder.

A pounding on the door startled the three of them. “Annalise! Open up. I have urgent news!” Soren shouted on the other side.

“Let him in, please. Maybe he has more information for us,” Annalise said, shifting toward the wall to make room. She hated for Soren to see her so, but she didn’t trust her legs or her head, and the floor felt like the safest place at the moment.