Page 107 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

But the world refused to give in to her wishes. King Alaric and Prince Vahn were even now sleeping in the north wing and would expect to see her at breakfast. The ink on the treaty was dry. Her feet were set on a path that would free her kingdom and bring her people peace. If her heart longed for the boy with the dark eyes and the crooked smile, she was strong enough to ignore it. The memory of this moment would have to carry her through.

She ought to step away, but instead she lingered, memorizing the feel of his body against hers. The scent of his skin and the way his breath hitched when she traced a finger up the side of his neck and pressed her palm against his cheek. She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes, the wound in her heart already bleeding again.

“Tal—”

“Don’t say it.” He pressed his lips to hers, his hands tangling in her curls.

She kissed him back, desperate to imprint the moment in her memory. The boy who wanted her not because she was the princess, but despite it. And then, regret sitting in her stomach like a stone, she pulled back.

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“I know.” The heartache in his voice brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked before they could fall.

“I won’t break my promises, and I won’t take a consort, no matter how much I might want to betray the enemy I’m marrying.”

“I would expect no less of you.” His voice was steady, though the pain in it hurt her more than the ache squeezing her own chest.

“If it would be easier on you, I can have you reassigned or—”

“Don’t you dare.” He met her gaze. “I’m not trusting anyone else to protect you. I can handle what you have to do, but not if it means I can’t be by your side.”

The band around her chest loosened a little, and she drew an unsteady breath. “Thank you. I don’t want to do this without you by my side either.”

“I told you, the only way I’m leaving is if you send me away.” He leaned his forehead against hers, and they stood in silence, their breath mingling, surrounded by the distant roar of the crashing sea.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I am too.” He drew her close, holding her as though he were drowning and she was his salvation. Then he kissed her as the stars slowly spun across the sky above them and the edges of the horizon gradually softened into the hazy gray of dawn.

Thirty-Nine

CHARIS WOKE THE next morning after only three hours of sleep. Mrs. Sykes was bustling around the room, humming as she prepped Charis’s dress, deep purple with glittering metallic thread embroidered into the bodice and sleeves in the patterns of Calera’s patron constellations. A subtle message to Vahn that she was and always would be Calera, and no amount of posturing about taking what was his could change that.

This time, she left her hair wild, tumbling down her back in unruly curls. Instead of an updo, she reached for a silver tiara made of two snakes wrapped around sharp, thornlike spikes. The snake’s eyes were rubies to match the ruby eyes on her ceremonial sword.

Vahn wasn’t the only one who needed to see Charis as an untouchable threat. The traitor who was trying to kill her also needed to understand the kind of enemy Charis could be.

Tal stood by the door watching her as she adjusted the tiara. He smiled, wide and real, when she came toward him. “No one in his right mind would underestimate you.”

“Vahn must not be in his right mind, then.”

“We’ll come up with a plan for him.” Tal sounded certain. “I’ve been paying attention, and I have a few ideas.”

“Excellent.” She smiled fiercely. “Let’s go intimidate my future husband and get some answers about the kind of jewels the Rakuuna might want.”

“I do love multitasking.”

Breakfast was a fancy affair. The council members were there, with the exception of Lord Thorsby, who’d come down with a bad cold. Charis sat between Vahn and Lady Channing, with Lady Ollen and Lord Everly just across from her.

“Blessed morning, Charis,” Vahn said with exquisite courtesy. “I hope you had a restful night.”

“Very,” she said, sharpening her smile and aiming it at him. She needed information from him before he returned to Montevallo, and now that she’d taken his measure, she was prepared to get it. “Now, shall we discuss your dowry?”

He frowned. “My dowry?”

“Yes. I realize we agreed to a rather obscene number of jewels in the treaty, and of course those will be put to good use rebuilding Calera, a project which I’m sure enjoys your full support now.” She raised her brows at him and waited until he nodded. “Wonderful. My question is about the types of jewels your father will be sending.”

“The types?” He looked from her to Alaric, who sat at the far end of the table beside the queen. “I . . . does it matter?”

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