Page 37 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

She met his eyes and found him watching her with that inscrutable look he sometimes got. The one that made her feel like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“I just hope it buys me enough time to find a viable path toward peace.”

“What makes you think you can accomplish what your mother hasn’t been able to for the past eighteen years?” The genuine curiosity in his voice took the insolence out of his words.

“Because you gave me valuable insight into what drives King Alaric. I can’t win the battle if I don’t understand the way my enemy thinks.” She leaned forward to look out the carriage window as it turned onto the long road that led up to the palace. She’d been cooped up all day, and an inner restlessness pressed against her skin as if it wanted to pry her apart. She couldn’t stand another minute of being inside, on display in front of others, perfectly composed while she tried to stay three moves ahead of whomever she was with. “It’s a lovely autumn day. What’s left on my schedule?”

He pulled a small paper from the front pocket of his uniform and glanced over it. “Discussions with the head housekeeper for the trade delegate reception, homework for Brannigan, and signing winter festival cards to be sent to each noble family in Calera. After that—”

She held up a hand, and he fell silent. “Reschedule the housekeeper. We have five weeks before the delegates arrive. There will be plenty of time for planning. Push the card signing to later this week. And I’ll worry about homework later tonight.”

“Instead of sleeping, you mean?” There was a definite tone of disapproval in his voice, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Your Highness,” he tacked on, but the disapproval didn’t budge.

Impertinent boy. Just because he made her remember to eat and sleep and take moments throughout the day to breathe didn’t mean he got to censure her choices.

“I’m going riding.” She gave him a look that invited certain destruction if he chose to argue further.

Instead, he grinned. “Great idea.”

“I’m glad it meets your approval.”

He ignored her sarcasm.

Thirty minutes later, with her schedule adjusted and her riding habit on, they arrived at the stables. Tal had sent word ahead to have two horses saddled and ready. Grim, the young freckle-faced groom who’d traveled with them to the refugee camp, bowed when he saw them and then continued to fuss with the saddle of the large bay Tal preferred.

Charis patted the nose of her favorite black mare and gave her a sugar cube while Tal walked to Grim and slapped him on the shoulder, a wide smile on his face. Charis ignored them as they chatted roshinball or the bay’s saddle or whatever it was friends talked about when they didn’t have the fate of the kingdom on their shoulders. They saw each other a few hours a week on Tal’s afternoons off as well as each time Charis went riding. She hoped it was enough to make up for the fact that every other minute of Tal’s days and nights was spent keeping up with her.

If she felt a tiny sting of envy at their easy camaraderie, it was easily ignored. Instead, she mounted the mare, leaned down to pat the horse’s shoulder, and then glanced over at Tal, who was laughing at something Grim had said.

She had only an hour before she was due back in the palace for her next engagement. She wasn’t going to waste it watching two boys joke with each other in a stable yard. A wicked little smile played about her lips as an idea blossomed and took hold.

Tal would absolutely hate it.

In fact, she was 100 percent sure it would earn her a few lectures muttered under his breath for at least a week.

Worth it.

Wrapping the reins around her fist, she squeezed her thighs and shouted, “Race you to the orchard!”

The mare took off, her long legs eating up the distance between the stables and the hill that eventually led to the far southern edge of the property. Behind her, she heard a shout, and a bubble of laughter burst from her.

Leaning over the mare’s neck, Charis urged her on. Hoofbeats thundered behind her, and she risked a look back, her braid whipping across her face. The bay was galloping toward them, Tal leaning forward to help the horse’s momentum. She couldn’t read his expression, but she imagined the disapproval must be there, and laughed again.

Racing her horse toward the edge of the orchard that spread across the distant hill, she savored the sting of the wind against her cheeks, the thunder of her heart, and the glow of elusive happiness that burned within. It was wild and reckless and more freedom than she’d had in weeks, and it was exactly what she needed.

Tal was at her heels when she reined the mare in a few lengths from the orchard’s edge. Her horse danced along the tree line, and Charis laughed when Tal leaped from his mount and grabbed her mare’s bridle.

However, when he looked at her, there wasn’t any disapproval on his face. Instead, there was warmth in his eyes. “Feel better?” he asked.

“I always feel better when I beat you at something.”

“I will endeavor to lose more often.” He grinned at her expression. “But not at horse racing. I’d have beaten you if you hadn’t cheated.”

“Bold words.”

“True words.” He held her horse steady so she could dismount. “I once tried to impress a girl by racing a horse across a field and jumping a stream. Unfortunately, I ended up in the stream, and she ended up kissing another boy behind the barn while I went home for a pair of dry pants.”

“Ouch.” She dismounted and patted the mare’s neck appreciatively. “Good girl,” she murmured.

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