Page 77 of The Masked Princess

The buzz of the crowd. The creaking of the guard’s armor. The rustle of dresses.

“Soren?” A soft voice that made his heart sing.

Someone fell to their knees at his back, and he turned to find Annalise staring down at him. There was a splatter of blood on her dress, an open cut on her face, and her hands were crimson, but her eyes were shining and her lips were so soft and inviting he couldn’t help himself.

A burst of energy and joy flooded Soren’s limbs, and he launched himself at her, sitting up fully and taking her into his arms with a strength that spoke of a new unwavering promise to never let her go again. Annalise squealed in surprise, and he laughed as he nuzzled her ear.

“Remind me to wear actual armor next time I defend your honor.” His buried his head in her hair and kneaded circles over her back. She had said she loved him, that she wanted him, that even if he was a poor shepherd, she would have been happy spending the rest of her life with him, and he decided in that very moment that he’d spend the rest of his life making sure she never regretted those words.

He was so lost in the sensation of being near her that he almost didn’t feel her fingers ghosting over his side, and he nearly missed the small noise she made.

“What… what… how? Your wound is gone,” she gasped, and Soren realized he was holding her so tightly he wasn’t sure if she was surprised or just couldn’t breathe. He loosened his arms and drew back to get a better look at her face.

“I don’t know any more than you do, love. One minute I was bleeding out and kicking myself for not being more careful and making stupid mistakes, the next I was kissing you, and then everything was dark and cold until it wasn’t, and now I suddenly feel like a brand-new man,” he said, withdrawing his arms from around her so he could hold both her hands in his.

She winced, and he frowned when he registered the several cuts bleeding from her fingers and palm, making a mental note to punish whoever hurt the love of his life.

“But I touched you.” Annalise looked down at their interlaced hands. “I’m still touching you.” She tried to withdraw her hands, but Soren wouldn’t let her go.

“You’re touching me, and nothing hurts. In fact, it feels warm, like a cozy fire or a ray of afternoon summer sun. I don’t know what happened, Annalise, and I’d hate to be hasty and make assumptions, but considering how I’m not dead… I think you healed me.”

He knew they were in the middle of a crowded room, and he was sure any minute Nelan would change his mind and order the guards to attack, but some things were far too important to leave waiting. He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her lips to his.

Their second kiss was everything Soren had ever dreamed of. He’d only ever wanted Annalise to be safe, to be happy, to feel loved and worthy and wanted and here, in his arms, he sensed her relax and melt into him like he was her safe place; her harbor in the storm, her shelter during a blizzard. Her lips were soft under his, answering every question he had with a resounding yes.

Her arms shifted, wrapping around him and pulling him closer, and her mouth grew greedy, as if he was her favorite dessert and she’d never be able to get enough. He thought before that he’d die happy with just one kiss from her, but now, after having a second chance at life, Soren knew that heaven wasn’t only something he’d find after death—it was there, in her arms.

They broke apart, more out of a need for breath than because either of them wanted the kiss to end.

Annalise gazed into Soren’s eyes and smiled, her entire expression alight with joy. “In that case, I guess we won’t have to worry about traveling the world after all to break my curse,” she whispered.

He unwrapped one of his arms so he could brush a perfect lock of blonde hair away from her face, his heart so full it felt like it was about to burst. “We still can if you’d like. Wherever you go, I will follow, my lady, my queen, my love.”

She smiled down at him and brushed her lips across his cheek. “My Soren.”

CHAPTER 57

Nelan’s snide voice broke through Annalise’s golden haze. “So it’s true? You healed him?”

A large hand grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet, away from Soren. Annalise cried out at the roughness. Nelan’s face was twisted in hate and rage. The sudden sight of him reminded Annalise of everything he’d put her and Soren through.

In a flash, her knife was in her hand, and she slashed at his side. He caught her and twisted her wrist, forcing her to let go.

“You’ve been holding out on me. If your tears healed him, your blood should heal me even faster,” he snarled.

In one fluid movement, he drew his dagger, which was still wet with Soren’s blood, and cut another jagged slash against her already-bloody palm. In the next breath he forced her hand to his shoulder. Annalise couldn’t believe her luck and thanked the Goddess for her mercies, because while she may have healed Soren, if there was any justice in the world, Nelan would die a terribly painful death.

She grabbed at Nelan with her other hand, smearing her blood over his face, neck, and wherever else she could reach. She didn’t know why Soren was healed, but if her curse was finally broken and Nelan was also healed, she’d take great pleasure in killing him through more conventional means.

She was Queen of Dovea, and her first official act would be to punish the tyrant king standing before her.

The twisted smile on Nelan’s face grew tighter until it turned into a grimace, and then his eyes bulged. He tried to push her away, but she clung on and dug into his shoulder. His next push was rougher and broke her grip.

Nelan screamed, ripping his tunic and revealing the flesh around his shoulder turning mottled purple and blue. As Annalise watched, the veins under his skin turned black and spread out, followed by the familiar sight of mottling purple. The skin of his face also turned, albeit slower than that of his shoulder.

When the dark veins covered his face, he collapsed, writhing and shouting in pain.

Annalise backed away as King Nelan’s personal guards rushed to his side. She readied herself for a fight, but Nelan’s thrashing, combined with his open wound, sent a fine mist of black blood in the air, and the guards were soon covered, and within seconds, also infected.