Page 12 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“I’m not an invalid, Charis.” His voice was as firm as hers, though it was threaded with exhaustion. “I’m your father. I realize I rarely interfere with the decisions you and your mother make, but I will not back down on this.”

Charis blinked. Father never made demands. Never. She couldn’t possibly refuse him when the cost of worrying him was further ruin to his health.

But she couldn’t possibly agree when the cost of protecting her could be his life.

Father spoke with a note of finality. “You will move into my chambers tonight. If Letha wants to argue about it, she knows where to find me. Tal, send Charis’s guards to pack up some of her things and bring them here.”

Charis shot Tal a look of panic before she could think better of it and found a similar worry in the boy’s eyes.

“I love you, Father.” Charis leaned close and pressed a delicate kiss against his cheek. “And I appreciate that you want to protect me. But I can’t stay here.”

“You most certainly can.”

“Not if I want to maintain the impression that the Willowthorns are unassailable and cannot be stopped in our quest to end the war without annexing the north.”

“At what cost?” He was already shaking his head. “I won’t lose my daughter over some political power play.”

“You won’t have to,” Tal said.

Charis and the king turned as one to stare at Tal. The boy swallowed hard, but there was resolute determination on his face as he said, “I’ll guard Princess Charis.”

“What? No. Father needs you—”

“No one ever bothers me.” The king waved a hand to sweep away Charis’s objection, his eyes still on Tal as though weighing the boy’s words. Finally, he said, “I would expect you to be with her at all times.”

“I understand.”

“Wait a minute—” Charis began, but Father ignored her.

“On your afternoon off, you would personally hand her security over to the guard you trust most.”

“Of course.”

“There is the matter of your living arrangements. I’m not sure what rooms are available in Charis’s wing. I’ll check with Letha.”

“Both of you just stop.” Charis looked from Father to Tal and back again. The only thing worse than worrying about the possibility of another attack in the palace would be having a near-stranger at her side every moment of every day. When would she ever be able to drop her shield and just breathe? “You can’t simply decide to assign me a full-time bodyguard and tell him to move into my wing.”

“You’d rather move in here with me?” Father asked.

She pulled the one excuse she knew he couldn’t argue with. “Mother will never agree to something like this.”

“She would if she’d thought of it first.” Father patted Charis’s hand as if he’d neatly solved the issue.

“But she didn’t think of it, and she isn’t going to want a guard she barely knows hovering over me every second of the day.”

Father folded her hands into his, and she was grateful to realize they no longer trembled. “She will see the benefit in this. She wants you safe as much as I do. Don’t worry, Charis. I’ll win this argument.”

Charis blinked. Her parents’ marriage was one of convenience—twenty-eight years ago Letha had needed a suitor who would unify support for the royals in the northern territories, and Father had come from a long line of proud northern nobility. It had taken nearly eleven years for the marriage to produce an heir, but once Charis was born, the queen had ignored Father’s presence unless she couldn’t help it, and Father had settled comfortably into his wing in the palace and poured his heart into Charis.

In all her seventeen years, she’d never once seen them argue, and it was impossible to imagine Father swaying Letha to do things his way. Nobody ever pushed Mother into following their plans unless she saw a definite political gain in the outcome. Even when she was bedridden and recovering from a knife wound.

Charis smiled gently and squeezed Father’s hands. “Whatever the outcome of your discussion with Mother, please don’t worry about me tonight. Reuben is on duty and will search my chambers before I enter. If necessary, I’m sure he’d even sleep in the hall outside my door.”

“Odious man, but loyal,” Father said. “I’ll speak with Letha this morning. Tal, thank you for volunteering to guard Charis.”

Tal inclined his head and said nothing.

Charis leaned against Father’s shoulder, ignoring the way his collarbone pressed against her cheek, and whispered, “I love you.” Then she left his chambers and headed off to start her day, sure that Mother would refuse such a ludicrous arrangement.

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