Page 26 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“Better,” Tal agreed with a smile. “Ready?”

She assumed a cold expression and lifted her chin. “Ready.”

“You’re late, but just in time to help me win an argument with Holland.” Nalani met Charis at the doorway of the fifth-floor palace library. Her sleek black hair fell in a sheet down her back, and her golden skin glowed in the morning sunlight pouring in through the narrow windows that rose from the top of the shelves to the ceiling.

Caleb Brannigan, tutor to the princess and her cousins, raised his eyes to the ceiling as if searching for patience. His tightly coiled black curls were precisely coifed, his serviceable day coat didn’t dare show a single wrinkle, and his plain cravat remained stiffly at attention around his throat, its snowy fabric gleaming against his dark brown skin. Only the ink stains on his fingertips betrayed his meticulous appearance.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said in his deep baritone, the slight creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he smiled at her. “Tal.”

“Good morning, Mr. Brannigan,” Charis said politely as Reuben and Elsbet took up positions outside the library, while Tal entered the room and stood beside the door.

Brannigan had been their tutor for the past three years and had never displayed even a whiff of interest in anything the three of them did outside of his rigorous assignments, but still, Charis was careful in his presence. He reported directly to the queen, and as far as Charis was concerned, that meant he was yet another pair of eyes watching her every move, ensuring that she met Mother’s rigid expectations with perfection every moment of every day.

“So what argument am I solving today?” Charis asked as she took a seat beside Nalani at the library’s table.

Holland sat across from them, his papers already organized in front of him. “Apparently, I’m not supposed to wear my sword to the tea Mother is insisting I attend later today.” He sounded aggrieved.

“Holland, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: you cannot wear a sword to teas, brunches, dinners, or balls.” Nalani opened her leather satchel and took her own papers out.

“You didn’t have a problem with it when I wore it to Lady Channing’s dinner party last night.”

“You wore your sword to the dinner party?” Nalani’s voice was faint as she slowly sank back against her chair. When he looked askance at her, she waved a hand weakly in his direction as if somehow absolving him of guilt. “No, no, I blame myself. I was too preoccupied with a tear in my dress to properly look at what you were wearing beneath your dress coat.”

“I wasn’t wearing a dress coat.” Holland sounded offended.

“Well, when you go to tea today, you’re going to wear something nicer than what you have on now. I am this close to getting a sizable donation from Lady Shawling for the refugee center, and you are not ruining that,” Nalani said in a voice that brooked no argument. “And you’ll leave the weapon at home. Nobody wears a sword in polite company.”

“There’s nothing polite about an afternoon tea at Lady Shawling’s house,” Holland said.

“Charis, help me.” Nalani shot her cousin a pleading look.

Charis’s lips twitched, though she was careful to hide any hint of amusement when Nalani’s eyes met hers. She reached for her own papers as Brannigan cleared his throat in a signal that it was time to get started. “At this point, anyone who invites Holland to an event knows exactly what they’re getting themselves into,” she said.

“While I hate to interrupt what is truly a fascinating discussion,” Brannigan said, “I must insist that you hand in your mathematics and your outlines for your papers on the history of Calera’s relationships with the other kingdoms of the sea. Once you’ve given those to me, you will conjugate the following list of verbs in Solvanish and then use them each properly in a sentence.” He placed a neatly written list of fifty words before them on the table and collected their papers.

“Doesn’t the fact that our father is Solvanish get us out of this assignment?” Nalani grumbled.

“No, it does not.” Brannigan looked stern.

For the next two hours, the only sounds in the library were the soft scratching of quills against paper as the three students worked to master the intricacies of Solvang’s language, the rustle of star maps as they charted the next month’s placement of the sister moons in the night sky, and the drone of their voices as they read aloud historical accounts of ancient battles written in old Caleran, a language that always felt to Charis as though she was adding too many syllables to every word.

They’d just put away the old texts and reached for their mathematics work when there was a sharp knock at the door, followed immediately by the entrance of a page who gave a short bow toward Charis and then handed her a piece of paper sealed with the queen’s purple wax, which was still slightly pliable to the touch.

Charis pried the wax seal apart and quickly read the queen’s note. Heat flooded her veins, and her heart thundered in her ears as she read it again, slowly, letting every word sink in.

“Your Highness?” the page prompted, her eyes wide and anxious. Clearly, the queen had instructed her not to leave without a response.

Charis looked up and found the page, Tal, Holland, and Nalani watching her closely. Brannigan was, as usual, examining the stack of papers in front of him as if he wasn’t paying the slightest attention to anything Charis did that didn’t directly relate to his instruction.

Her throat tightened, and she had to swallow hard before speaking. Forcing her voice to sound quiet and steady, though she couldn’t quite rid it of the horror that gripped her, she said, “Tell the queen I’ll be there shortly.”

When the page closed the library door behind her, Charis turned to the others. “Mr. Brannigan, I’m afraid I need to cut this session short. If there are homework assignments, please send them directly to my secretary. I’ll get to them as soon as I’m able.”

“What’s happened?” Holland uncoiled in his seat, his hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his hips.

“Charis?” Nalani sounded worried, though, like her brother, she looked ready to stand at the princess’s side and face whatever was coming.

“Last night, Montevallo raided farther into our territory than they ever have.” Horror tightened around her throat like a noose. “They ignored our military outposts and bypassed the southern flank of our army. Instead, they attacked a town called Irridusk.”

---