Page 17 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“First, I must levy consequences against a few noble families who’ve refused to pay taxes this quarter, but I must do so without losing the loyalty and faith of the rest of the antiwar faction.”

“Perhaps a quiet example could be made. One that shows restraint and mercy while still reminding them that you hold the sword that is poised above their necks.”

Charis’s jaw tightened. “I agree. Mother and I thought to demand immediate payment, including an additional fine for their treasonous behavior, with the understanding that if they don’t pay, we will strip them of their titles and confiscate their lands. We also thought to issue a proclamation welcoming the civil discussion of dissenting ideas but reminding our people that all must pay their fair share to maintain our armies and our infrastructure.”

Lady Channing inclined her head. “A good idea, though I wonder if instead of a proclamation, which could be seen as defensive, we could simply plant a rumor with the right person.”

“What kind of rumor?”

“Oh, perhaps . . . the scintillating tale of how the queen had every right to throw the offenders into the dungeon for forcing other nobles to carry their tax burden, but how instead she chose to offer them the chance to make things right or risk losing their titles. The right person could spin that into a delicious bit of gossip that paints the royal family as firm but fair, and leaves the offenders with a very shaky social standing.”

Charis nodded slowly. “I like it. I’ll have Darold summon the lords before the council this week.”

“And I’ll be ready to invite Lady Shawling to tea that very afternoon so she gets all the juicy details.”

Charis rubbed cold fingers against the raised embroidery on the arm of her chair. “Thank you. With that handled, I need to figure out a show of strength against Montevallo. This assassination attempt cannot go unanswered, and we need leverage to have any chance of brokering peace. Which brings me to my final item. We need to assure our allies that Calera is a good business risk. Any sign of weakness could undo help that we’ll desperately need if we are to survive the war and turn the tide. Already I hear that there will soon be a shortage of medical supplies due to the sinking of the Rullenvor trade ship. We cannot risk any of our allies turning their backs on us, or worse, deciding we’re weak enough to be conquered.”

Lady Channing looked thoughtful. “My trip to the northern kingdoms yielded strong relationships with their rulers and ambassadors. Let me see what I can do.”

The pressure in Charis’s chest refused to ease, and she rose, unable to bear the effort of carrying the conversation for a moment longer. “Thank you, Lady Channing. I’ll look forward to hearing your results.”

Turning, she left the room, chin high and back straight. Not a single sign of weakness for her enemies or allies alike to pounce on and use against her.

Eight

CHARIS HELD HERSELF together for the rest of the afternoon by sheer force of will. Meetings with Darold and Mother’s secretary, high tea at the Everlys’, and a long session with her weapons trainer gave her something to focus on, but every unguarded breath burned the back of her throat. Every stray moment in between tasks cut her to the bone.

Milla—sweet little Milla with her earnest smile and her cheerful ways—gone.

Not gone. Taken.

Taken because she’d had the terrible misfortune of being in the ladies’ parlor when the assassin attacked. Because the queen believed she might have been the one who betrayed them.

Charis’s eyes stung as she made her way from the training yard to her chambers, Reuben and Elsbet walking silently several paces back, and Tal just behind her to the left. He’d followed her in silence all day, his dark eyes carefully taking in their surroundings before focusing on her again. Charis would bet her crown he deeply regretted being assigned to protect her now that he’d seen the cost of failure.

She dug her nails into her palms before grief could destroy the calm she was fighting so hard to keep.

“Your Highness, I regret to announce that Luther and Fada were part of the staff members who bore responsibility for allowing a spy to hide in the palace. We have two new guards assigned to your night shift,” Reuben said as they climbed the stairs that led to Charis’s wing and entered her hallway. “I would ask that you stay in your rooms this evening until I’ve had a chance to fully brief them on—”

Charis stepped into her chambers, followed by Tal, and shut the door in Reuben’s face.

Fada and Luther had been her guards since she was ten—it was hard to imagine that one of them had betrayed her.

“Your Highness, can I get you anything?” Tal spoke for the first time, and Charis jumped. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, she’d forgotten that even in her private chambers, she had to deal with someone watching her every move. His voice was cautious but kind, which somehow made it worse.

She met his gaze and winced inwardly at the wary concern in his eyes. A near-stranger who already pitied her and who would see her grief if she couldn’t hold it in a little longer. Unacceptable.

“I’m fine.” Her voice hitched, betraying her, but he didn’t question her statement. “There’s Milla’s . . . I mean, your room.” Her throat closed over the words, and she turned away, leaving him standing beside the door that led to the small bedroom her handmaiden had used. It was a bright, cheery space nestled between the outside corridor and the bath chamber, just off Charis’s bedroom. If he wanted to, he could stand in the doorway and watch her sleep, a thought that gave her no comfort at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as she moved away.

She kept walking until she’d entered her closet and closed the door. Drawing a shuddering breath, she changed out of her training clothes into a simple blue dress for dinner with Father. Her heart felt hollowed out, her knees weak. She wanted to curl into a ball and let the pain consume her. Instead, she dressed woodenly, icy fingers fumbling with the dress’s sash until she simply jerked it into a knot and left it hanging limply at her side.

Tal wasn’t in her bedroom when she exited the closet. She heard the sound of drawers opening and closing from his room. Perhaps he was putting his things away. Perhaps he was packing up the small pieces that remained of Milla.

Pain stung the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard as she sat in front of the vanity. Her hair was a windblown tangle of wild curls, and there was no Milla to comb it out and pin it in place. Charis’s hand shook as she reached for the hairbrush and tugged viciously at the snarls.

Outside her window, the sky was a swirl of purple and gray with lingering streaks of gold as day crept into night.

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