Page 38 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“The blow to my dignity was far worse than the blow to my backside. However, I vowed to never end up in a stream again, and I worked hard on my horsemanship. If you want a real race, we can do that on the way back, though I’m afraid the blow to your dignity might be more than you can take.”

She laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

“Do you hear that?” He frowned and stepped closer to the orchard.

She followed his lead, listening closely. A soft, high-pitched cry came from somewhere to their left. Tal looped both sets of reins around the nearest branch and set off into the orchard. Charis hurried to keep up.

Two rows in and six trees down, Tal suddenly stopped and crouched by the thick tufts of grass that grew at the base of the trunk.

“What is it?” Charis asked.

Tal settled onto the ground, his back against the tree trunk, and scooped a ball of fluff into his arms. “A kitten.” There was a note of boyish wonder in his voice that made the happy glow inside Charis brighten.

She examined the kitten. It was a patchwork of orange, gold, and black with a big black smudge of fur across its face and orange fur surrounding its ears. Two golden eyes peered up at Tal, and it opened its tiny mouth and mewed pitifully. He carefully smoothed its fur and scratched behind its ears, and a little rumbling purr came from its throat.

“Where’s the rest of the litter?” Charis checked the surrounding area but couldn’t find any other kittens. “It must have gotten separated. We can take it back to the stables. There are plenty of barn cats there, and . . .”

Her words trailed off as she focused on Tal again. He had the kitten cuddled up just beneath his chin and was whispering to it. There was an aching vulnerability on his face—a sadness in his eyes that caught Charis unaware. It brushed against her own grief, and she found herself swallowing hard and looking away until she was sure she wasn’t going to do something foolish like spill her own pain to her bodyguard.

He looked up as she crouched beside him. “She reminds me of my favorite cat.” His voice was nostalgic, but she heard the pain beneath it.

She settled on the ground beside him and brushed a hand over the kitten’s fluffy back. “You had a favorite cat?”

“Grismelda.”

“That’s a very unusual name.”

He smiled wistfully. “My sister named her. She got it from a child’s story called The Adventures of Hildegard and Grismelda. I was afraid of the dark as a child, and she gave me the job of looking after Grismelda at night. I took it seriously and only realized much later that she’d let me sleep with the cat to help me not be afraid.”

“Is your sister older or younger than you?” She’d been careful not to ask him about his family or his life before he came to the palace. There was no sense in becoming attached to another staff member who could be removed or killed if Mother decided it was prudent. But she couldn’t leave him alone with the hurt in his voice. Besides, discussing his sister and her cat was harmless.

“Older.” He stroked the kitten’s face.

“Is she . . . Do you miss her?” What a stupid thing to say. Of course he must miss his family. And as she had no idea if they’d survived the Montevallian occupation of his village, she was prying into a subject that must hurt him. “I’m sorry. That was a careless thing to ask. You don’t have to answer.”

He gave her another one of his inscrutable Charis-is-a-puzzle looks and then said softly, “I miss her, but I try not to think of her often. It’s easier that way.”

The kitten lifted its paw and tapped Tal on the chin. He smiled down at it. “This little one needs a bath and some milk.”

It was on the tip of Charis’s tongue to tell him there were no pets in the palace. And there was certainly no time in their schedule to take on the care of a helpless kitten. The kitten would have to take its chances in the barn with the rest of the cats.

But then he ran a finger down its back and whispered, “I’ll name you Hildegard. Hildy for short. My sister would’ve liked that.”

And seers take it, she couldn’t manage to get the words out.

He looked up, sadness in his eyes again. “I know we can’t keep a kitten in your chambers. We’re too busy. And you have all those nice dresses, which don’t go well with kitten claws.”

He climbed to his feet, cradling the kitten as if she was the most valuable thing in the world, and then reached his hand down to help her up.

“I’ll ask Grim if he has time to at least check on Hildy in the barn to make sure she gets enough food to survive the winter.” He turned toward the horses, the ache in his voice lingering in the air.

This was ridiculous. It was just a kitten. She shouldn’t feel bad about the fact that there was no room in his schedule, in his life, for a pet. There were far more important things at stake in the kingdom than the fate of one kitten and a boy who missed his sister. They’d put it with the other barn cats and go on to her next engagement.

And yet, as she watched him walk back to his horse, whispering to the kitten the entire way, she couldn’t make herself force him to give up the little ball of fluff. Instead, she said, “Father would love a kitten.”

Tal turned, his face bright. “Do you think so?”

Charis shook her head at her own softhearted foolishness. “I’m sure of it. He loves nothing more than to fuss and care for those who need it. Ilsa too. And that way, you can visit Hildy often. She’ll be spoiled rotten in no time.”

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