Page 36 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“Now that we’ve resolved the repair schedule for the roads leading north from Arborlay, perhaps we could discuss just how far north we are expected to go.” Lady Pellinsworth pursed her lips, painted bold pink to match her nails, and looked around Lady Shawling’s sitting room at the rest of the Infrastructure Expansion and Repair committee.

“Certainly not too far,” Lord Abbington said sternly, wiping crumbs of pumpkin pastry from his fingers. “Our taxes cannot be expected to support infrastructure in places where tax collection has been limited or nonexistent.”

“Are you forgetting that tax collection has been affected by the invading troops?” Lady Ollen’s voice rose, and she stabbed a short finger in Lord Abbington’s direction. “We ought to take a portion of funds earmarked for northern infrastructure and use them to make inroads into Montevallo instead.”

“So our crews can get killed?” Lord Abbington gave Lady Ollen a look of mild disgust, a frown wrinkling his dusky brow. “I think not.”

“So then how far do we truly want to repair the roads?” Lady Pellinsworth asked. “After all, Montevallo’s soldiers could be using them too.”

Charis, who was strictly there to make sure everyone remembered who was truly in charge of Calera’s infrastructure, figured it was time for that reminder. Leaning forward, she set her teacup on the low marble table before her with a delicate clink. “How far north does the road go?”

Lady Shawling, who wore her customary black, fanned herself as though overcome with excitement at the drama that was brewing.

Lord Rynce cleared his throat. “It extends into the captive northern territories, Your Highness.”

Charis smiled benevolently. “Then I suppose you have your answer, Lady Pellinsworth.” She lingered on the title, a subtle reminder to the woman that she’d been allowed to keep her title and the honor that came with it only after her husband had quickly sold several properties at a loss in order to pay their back taxes along with the hefty fee Charis had imposed. That benevolence could disappear in the blink of an eye, and everyone in the room knew it.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Lady Pellinsworth bowed her head in Charis’s direction without actually looking at the princess. “It’s just . . .” When no one jumped in to finish her sentence, Lady Pellinsworth waved her hand as if dismissing her thoughts. “It’s no matter.”

“On the contrary,” Charis said. “I think it matters very much. There is no need to fear speaking your mind in front of me as long as you are respectful of our laws and your sovereign.” Another subtle dig at the Pellinsworths’ foolishness.

The woman’s face flushed, and Lord Rynce took pity on her. “I suppose the question is how close can we come to the Montevallian occupation and still keep our work crews safe.”

“A worthy discussion point, Lord Rynce, but not what I think Lady Pellinsworth was asking.” She glanced around the room, noting which committee members met her gaze and which did not. If Mother was here, she’d quash the dissent by instilling fear and by reminding them where their sovereign stood on the issue of the northern territories. But Mother wasn’t here, and sometimes honey worked better than a sword.

Besides, Charis was sitting in the parlor of the most shameless gossip in the kingdom. Lady Vera Shawling could spread a rumor with the kind of speed the other matrons only aspired to. What if, instead of a rumor, Charis gave them a taste of the truth? Might that not appease both factions and buy her a little more time to find the solution to ending the war?

It was a gamble, but it was one worth taking.

“It is no secret that some of you wish us to annex the far northern territories and give them to King Alaric in hopes that will appease him enough to end the war.” She took another sip of tea and then set her cup down with care. “And it’s no secret that some of you oppose any overtures of peace until we’ve invaded Montevallo and made them pay for their aggression with the blood of their people.”

Lady Shawling forgot her fan as she leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Several of the other committee members straightened in their seats, their full attention on their princess. None of the rest would look at her.

“I sympathize with every Caleran who wants this war over, and with every Caleran who wants Montevallo’s debt paid in blood.” She let a hint of fury singe her words. “Montevallo’s atrocities must be stopped, and they must pay for what they’ve done to us.”

Ah, she’d now gained the attention of the entire room. Good. Let them truly hear her.

“But while we stop their atrocities and make them pay, we must not abandon our own. We must keep our word to our northern subjects, who are promised, under the law, the same protection from the crown as everyone in this room.” She clasped her hands in her lap and lifted her chin. “There is a way to accomplish peace without losing the north, and I am going to find it. I have new information that will help me do just that. All I need is a bit more time.”

“What new information have you found, Your Highness?” Lady Shawling’s voice was breathless.

Charis smiled, cold and calculated. “I’m afraid I do not have the queen’s permission to share that yet. Rest assured that your concerns have been heard and are being addressed. We must hold the line a bit longer, remain courageous in the face of Montevallo’s aggression, and keep faith with all our people. I promise you, I will not rest until I have a solution to the war well in hand.”

Now every committee member was looking at her. Full eye contact. Open body language. Immediate bows and murmurs of “Your Highness” when she met their gaze.

She had them. Or rather, the truth had them. With Lady Shawling at the helm, the rumor that the princess was close to finding a way to end the war would be the topic in every drawing room by tomorrow afternoon. She’d made no concessions to either faction. She’d acknowledged everyone’s position.

And her army was nearly in place to light the fires that would drive a chunk of Montevallo’s army into the sea. That should renew Calera’s faith in their rulers for a while.

It was the best she could do. Now she just had to keep her promise and find the solution that would save her kingdom.

The meeting ended twenty minutes later, and Charis settled into her carriage with Tal opposite her. She’d grown more and more comfortable with him as the days of his service had turned to weeks. Part of that could be blamed on her refusal to consign him to a life of silent formality as her constant bodyguard. The rest of it was entirely his fault. He was perceptive and intuitive, and had no compunction about speaking his mind to her in private, whether she welcomed his thoughts or not.

It ought to have been infuriating, but more often than not she found it invigorating instead. He didn’t back down from her challenges. He didn’t give way simply because she outranked him. He treated her like her mind, her skills, and her feelings mattered. Not for what she could do for him, but simply because he saw her as a person first, a princess second. The times she spent talking to him away from everyone else’s watchful eyes were the only parts of her day where she could breathe freely.

Not that she would ever admit that to him. There would be no living with him then.

As the carriage rumbled over the cobblestones on the way back to the palace, Tal said, “You managed them beautifully.”

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