Page 70 of The Masked Princess

She hadn’t breathed a word of her plans out loud for fear that Priscilla and Elsabeth would try to talk her out of it, or that they would be implicated even more than they already were. The road to King Nelan’s assassination was something that she had to walk alone, and she would do her best to make sure they were safe and far away long before they heard the news.

When the last of the finishing touches were added, Annalise turned to her two trusted friends and handed them each a purse full of jewels and coins.

“As of this very moment, I dismiss both of you from my service. While I could never give you enough money to repay you for your kindness and help, I hope this purse will help you understand my esteem for each of you. I have treasured our friendship and have no doubt that without your aid I would never have come so far,” Annalise said.

“Your Majesty, what are you saying?” Priscilla asked. She stood with her arms folded against her chest and made no move to accept Annalise’s gift.

Annalise jangled the bag. “Please, Priscilla, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I fear that after the events of today, you two will be in danger, and it would kill me if anything I did caused you harm.”

“No amount of money in the world would induce me to leave your side, Your Majesty.”

“Same here,” Elsabeth agreed.

“You have to… I can’t risk…” Annalise wasn’t even sure what else she might say to convince them to take the money and run when a knock at the door interrupted her.

“We can talk about it after the wedding, Your Majesty. Please, know that whatever happens, you’ll always have us at your side,” Elsabeth said, taking Annalise’s hand in her own.

On any other day, Annalise might have broken down in tears at the thoughtfulness and care in Elsabeth’s voice. Now though, all she felt was deep fear for her friends.

She squeezed Elsabeth’s hand and looked into her eyes, then Priscilla’s. “Please take these purses and promise me that at the first sign of trouble you will run. I cannot lose more loved ones to plots and plans and tricks.”

“Your Majesty⁠—”

“Promise. Me. It is the only request I have of you, and the only wedding present that I want. I must know that you two are safe, no matter what.”

“Annalise, it sounds like you’ve given up,” Priscilla said.

“Perhaps I have.” Annalise looked up at the ceiling as her face twisted in sorrow, but her eyes remained strangely dry. “There has been so much pain and heartache, and I cannot bear anymore. Please, I’m begging you, do as I ask.”

With shaking fingers, Priscilla took both bags from Annalise and handed one to Elsabeth. “We’ll be as careful as a sly fox and as wary as a wolf, Your Majesty, but you can’t give up yet.”

Another knock at the tower door, this time more insistent. Annalise arranged her face into a small smile even though it felt as though she were sucking on a broken piece of glass. “I couldn’t have asked for more loyal servants or for better friends. Thank you for everything you have done.”

Priscilla opened the door, revealing ten Rhinnean guards and four Rhinnean ladies—her escort to her wedding. The guards were in full ceremonial garb with black trousers, red tunics, and gold brocade, and each of the ladies wore white dresses with red and gold trim. Annalise harbored no doubts that the omission of her own kingdom’s colors was not an accident.

It bothered her less than it would have a few days before; the red on white gave the impression of blood on fresh snow; it was an apt omen for how she envisioned the day would end.

Annalise inhaled a deep breath. The influx of oxygen to her brain must have rattled something loose that had been stuck in her grief, and a stroke of brilliance hit her.

“Please, one moment, I fear I am going to be sick with wedding nerves,” she said with her best approximation of a sickly smile.

Before anyone could respond, she shut the door in the face of her new retinue. She hurried to a desk in the corner of her chamber. The moratorium against visitors extended to messages, but she still had a set of pens. With a shaking hand, she tore a blank page from one of the history books she’d borrowed from the library; she could only hope she wasn’t too late. At her order, Priscilla hurriedly heated wax over the hearth as Annalise scrawled a few lines, then folded and sealed the missive before handing it to Elsabeth.

“Here. Find Lieutenant Rorarck and the other Dovean guards and give this to him. I don’t trust King Nelan, and I will feel much better if I know that you two are safe.”

Elsabeth took the note and nodded before stepping aside.

As Annalise walked down the hall, the stomp of the boots of the Rhinnean guards and the whisper of silk echoed around her. Annalise knew the Goddess forbade murder, but she held hope that, at least in this case, the murder would be forgiven as a suitable punishment for an evil king.

It wasn’t much hope; surely no god loved someone as cursed as she was.

Every step forward was another step closer to her death, but Annalise was long past the point of caring.

Finally, they reached the Great Hall where the ceremony was to be held. Rhinnea’s high priest of the Goddess stood on the dais, with a man standing in front of him. Behind the two men were two thrones: One made of stone for Nelan, and one carved from wood was soon to be officially hers. Her heart dropped when she realized that Nelan’s throne was occupied, and that several guards stood between the Rhinnean king and the altar.

As she stood at the head of the aisle, mind reeling as she tried to calculate how Nelan could have known her plans, the guards in front of her crossed their spears and a young girl stepped forward who couldn’t have been any older than four.

“A gift from the king,” the child said, dipping into a wobbly curtsy as she held up a wooden box.