Page 32 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“But not loudly,” Nalani said hastily. “It was kind of cute, wasn’t it, Tal?”

Charis dearly hoped Tal didn’t answer that. She was already having trouble looking at him.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Tal asked quietly.

She nodded once and leaned away from him to look out the carriage window. They were well into the rolling hills of central Calera, and the sun was drifting toward the distant horizon. They’d be stopping at the camp soon, and she’d be faced with the suffering of her northern subjects. How she wished she could tell them she had a plan to bring Montevallo to its knees, but she and Mother had learned the hard way that King Alaric’s network of spies in Calera was vast, and the success of Charis’s plan depended on absolute secrecy.

“Charis?” The mischief was gone from Nalani’s voice.

She turned to her cousin.

“I got mad at Holland earlier for saying you’ve looked ill lately, but . . . for once, my brother was right.”

“I’m often right,” Holland protested.

“You’re often the business end of a donkey.” Nalani leaned toward Charis. “You look too thin. And you slept for hours just now. It’s not like you to let down your guard like that, no matter how tired you are. Are you sick?”

Tal shifted, his leg brushing against hers. She kept her eyes on Nalani. “I’m fine.”

Holland laughed, looked around when no one joined him, and then said, “Oh, that wasn’t a joke?”

“I have a feeling we aren’t going to get the truth unless we can get her to go back to sleep so we can ask Tal.” Nalani said the words lightly, but there was a shadow of hurt in her eyes.

Charis hadn’t meant to hurt Nalani, but how much could she really share? She hadn’t told them about the assassin, Milla, or the grief that had threaded itself through her heart as if it meant to stay. If Mother was right, to rule was to be alone in the most intimate sense of the word. No one could truly be trusted with her emotions because emotions were weakness and weakness was the crack in her shield that would invite a knife in her back.

But if Father was right, Charis could choose whether she was alone. She could rely on her instincts about others and give trust where it was earned.

Holland and Nalani had earned her trust a hundred times over and had never once asked for her to use her position to benefit them. And Charis was so tired of feeling like she had to be on her guard every time she left her bedroom.

Drawing a deep breath, she tried to shove Mother’s warnings into the corner of her heart.

“I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Or eating.” Holland swept her with a disapproving look.

She pressed her lips together and shot Tal a look to see if he was confirming anything for the twins. He was watching her with an unreadable expression. Mortification threatened again, and she looked away.

This was stupid. She couldn’t be embarrassed to look at her bodyguard. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep against his shoulder, and it should be no more awkward than if it had been Holland sitting next to her instead.

“What happened?” Nalani asked quietly, compassion already swimming in her eyes.

The carriage rumbled over a rough patch in the road, and Charis gripped the seat cushion to keep from sliding forward. Tal’s arm shot out, a brace across the front of her again.

“Thank you,” she said, making herself look at him.

He gave her that crooked little smile. “I’d be a pretty poor bodyguard if I let you go flying out of your seat and into Holland’s lap.”

“Seers forbid.” Holland looked mildly panicked at the thought.

“Charis, what happened?” Nalani reached across the carriage to squeeze Charis’s hands as the road smoothed out and curved around a vast gray-green swamp, half obscured by ribbons of fog. In the distance, small creatures, no taller than a ten-year-old human, with dark green skin and twiglike brown hair moved across the swampland, digging and raking and farming the mushrooms and moss they lived on.

“It’s supposed to be good luck to see a Kirthin, and I think I see three,” Charis said.

Holland and Tal instantly craned their necks to look for the creatures who cared for Calera’s swamplands, but Nalani kept her focus on Charis. “Please tell us what happened, Charis.”

She tried to keep her voice calm and steady. “On the night of the ambassadors’ ball, a Montevallian spy was hiding in the ladies’ parlor. He attacked the queen and stabbed her. Another spy was found in my bath chamber, though she was unarmed, so we don’t believe she was there to kill me. More likely she was the assassin’s cover—she was also dressed in ball finery—and she ran and hid when the palace guard began their search.”

Holland swore. Nalani made a noise like a wounded bird, her eyes wide.

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