Page 21 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

She shrugged his hands away and sat up, her heart thundering.

He leaned back but still watched her closely. When she said nothing, he said quietly, “Bad dream?”

She nodded without meeting his eyes. She ought to reassure him that it was nothing and then dismiss him, but the sound of the blood was still too near. Her voice was faint as she said, “Could you . . . I thought I heard something.”

They both knew she hadn’t heard anything, but he didn’t hesitate. “I’ll check your chambers immediately, Your Highness.”

Her heartbeat settled as he moved through the bedroom, the closet, the sitting room, and finally the bath chamber, checking any place that could possibly hide an intruder. The ache within eased, and she drew a deep, cleansing breath as he returned to the bed.

“All clear, Your Highness. It’s just the two of us.”

She blinked as his words settled in.

Just the two of them.

Glancing down at herself, she snatched a blanket and drew it up to her neck. For seers’ sakes, she’d been sitting there in her lacy nightgown in front of a guard. It was a small mercy there were no lanterns lit so he could see the flush of mortification burning in her cheeks.

And then she looked properly at him for the first time and realized he was wearing loose linen pajama pants and no shirt. The flush in her cheeks spread down her neck.

He seemed to realize their predicament at the same moment and took a step back, turning his face toward the wall as if to give her privacy.

There was nothing left to do but dismiss him to his room. She would be regal and remote—a princess establishing clear boundaries and erasing all evidence of her previous vulnerability. With this plan in place, she opened her mouth, but he spoke first.

“I had terrible nightmares after I arrived here.” His voice was quiet and steady. “Sometimes reading a book helps. Gives you something else to think about.”

“Oh.”

So much for responding like a regal princess. She clutched the blanket higher, though he’d yet to look at her again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Put words to the images in her head so they could become real and haunt her during the day the way they did at night? Absolutely not.

“I think I’ll just try to go back to sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment and then said, “Yes, Your Highness.”

As he walked toward his room, the quiet echo of the assassin’s blood dripping from his wounds scraped against her thoughts, and she bit her tongue to keep from asking him to stay.

She barely knew him. What possible comfort could his presence bring her? The belief that a warm body in the room with her could somehow stave off the darkness that lingered in her mind was foolish. He needed his sleep, and she could at least have the courtesy to pretend she was going to be able to fall asleep too.

But when he reached the doorway that led into his room, he paused and said, “With your permission, I’d like to leave my door open, just for tonight. That way if you need anything, I’ll be able to hear you immediately. Would that be all right?”

Relief flooded her, leaving her hands shaky and her throat tight.

She could stay connected to someone—someone real and present and alive—and maybe that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay, at least for the night.

“That’s fine, thank you, Tal.” Her voice wasn’t quite as steady as she’d hoped, but it didn’t seem to matter. He entered his room, and this time, instead of flinching as she heard him moving around its space, she took comfort in the fact that she wasn’t alone.

Ten

CHARIS KEPT HERSELF busy for the next two weeks. Every moment was filled with something to do. She woke to the somewhat clumsy ministrations of Mrs. Sykes, the much older handmaiden Mother had assigned to her, skipped breakfast on the excuse that she didn’t have time, threw herself into weapons training or horse rides, and then put poor Darold through his paces as she demanded he fill any opening on her calendar with something.

Something to keep her mind occupied.

Something to keep her body moving.

Something to fill the unexpected quiet moments when grief over Milla and worry over Mother’s slow recovery could find her.

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