Page 16 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“Thank you. Please give notice to Tutor Brannigan that I am unable to come to class this morning. He can send any missed assignments to my secretary.”

She’d meet with Lady Channing and then summon Mother’s secretary, go through the queen’s calendar, and then draft an agenda for the next royal council meeting. One that focused on strengthening Calera’s alliances, finding a way to open peace talks with Montevallo, and dealing with those who’d failed to pay their taxes. With any luck, that would take up the rest of the morning and leave her no room to think of anything beyond the task of running the kingdom in Mother’s absence.

No room to think about returning to her chambers to find Milla gone.

Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly as she forged ahead down the hallway, her battle dress striking the floor with every step. Maids dusting framed artwork and pages scurrying about with messages from the head housekeeper or palace steward bowed as she passed. When she reached the north parlor, she waited while Reuben and Elsbet checked it for spies and then took up positions outside the door. Tal followed her inside, but he was so unobtrusively quiet, she could simply pretend he wasn’t there.

“Your Highness!” Lady Channing curtsied, her simple gray dress a somber contrast to the soft rose, yellow, and ivory décor.

“Lady Channing.” Charis’s voice felt like it was coming from a distance. From some other part of herself that wasn’t trapped beneath the crushing pressure within.

The woman met her gaze, and Charis was shocked to find tears in her eyes. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Lady Channing cry.

“Are you well?” Charis asked as she crossed the pale yellow rug to sit in a high-back chair embroidered with delicate summer flowers.

Once the princess was seated, Lady Channing sat opposite her on a plush rose settee and wrung her hands. “My dear girl, I’m simply heartbroken. You poor thing. But of course you know I’ll do whatever I can to help during the transition. Anything at all.”

Charis drew back, her skin prickling with unease. “What are you talking about?”

Lady Channing frowned. “Your mother, of course.”

“What exactly about my mother?”

“The assassination.” Lady Channing folded her hands, her knuckles white as she watched Charis’s face. “I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry. Of course you’re not ready to discuss this yet, but there is the coronation ceremony to manage, the council to inform, and a plan must be made to—”

“Lady Channing, the queen is very much alive.”

Lady Channing’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Charis for a moment, eyes wide, and then she slowly leaned against the back of the settee, her hands pressed to her cheeks as tears shone in her eyes. “Oh, thank the seers.”

A pit of dread sank into Charis’s stomach. Lady Channing shouldn’t have heard about the assassination attempt. Not if Reuben’s quest to silence every witness had been as successful as Mother believed. Which meant the story of the queen’s illness would be lost in the wake of the assassination rumor unless Charis quickly nipped it in the bud.

Refusing to consider the methods Reuben would employ against the offender, she said quietly, “How did you hear about it?”

Lady Channing wiped her eyes and sat up straight. “I told the butler that of course I knew the way to the north parlor, no need to escort me, so I was walking in silence, and I overheard a pair of guards talking.”

Her eyes widened as she caught the expression on Charis’s face. “They were being most discreet, Your Highness. I wouldn’t have heard them had I not been passing so close to the alcove they were in, and there was no one else about.”

“What precisely did they say?”

“That there was a serious breach in palace security if an assassin could stab the queen and that heads would roll if that breach wasn’t found and fixed.” She drew in a fortifying breath. “Naturally, I assumed that meant the queen was . . . that she’d died. I apologize for upsetting you.”

Charis nodded, her thoughts settling. A pair of guards, most likely tasked with quietly searching the palace to be sure another assassin hadn’t entered that morning and not hearing Lady Channing approach, could hardly be punished for quietly discussing the situation between themselves. A thread of relief unspooled within as she shelved any plans to discuss the matter with either Reuben or the queen.

“Your Highness, if the queen is . . .” Lady Channing paused as if waiting for Charis to supply the word that would fit the story the palace was telling.

“Ill?”

“Yes. If she’s ill, then I assume you are stepping into her duties for the time being.” Lady Channing’s eyes were clear, and her tone was once again the calm, unflappable one she always used. “If you find yourself in need of an advisor, I humbly offer my service. If you would prefer a younger advisor, I am happy to work with the council to recommend someone suitable.”

Charis considered the offer. Mother had often relied on Lady Channing’s pragmatic council throughout the years. And having someone so well respected by all factions approve of Charis’s decisions while Mother recovered would be invaluable.

“Thank you, Lady Channing.” She paused and looked out the trio of windows at the distant rooftops of the town below them. Today was market day for the kitchens. Milla would have been hovering near the hearth, ready to snatch a pastry or bar of chocolate from the incoming foodstuffs to bring up to Charis’s chambers for the two of them to share later.

“Your Highness?” The infinite gentleness in Lady Channing’s voice yanked Charis back into the present.

She was mortified to find tears in her eyes. Blinking them away, she forced herself to speak briskly. “Mother will be recovering from her illness for a few weeks. During that time, it’s imperative that I act swiftly and decisively on several matters.”

Lady Channing folded her hands quietly in her lap and waited.

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