Page 39 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

He gave her his crooked smile as he tucked Hildy into the front of his jacket and freed the reins from the tree limb. “Thank you.”

She took her mare’s reins and mounted. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve once again lost a horse race.”

And before he could finish mounting his bay, she was galloping toward the stables.

Sixteen

THE TRADE DELEGATES were due to arrive in less than two weeks. Reinforcing those alliances remained crucial as Charis still hadn’t come up with the leverage she needed to convince Alaric to stop the war. Two sections of her army were in place, ready to light the fires that would drive the bulk of Montevallo’s invading forces into the sea. Only the western flank had yet to report back as being in position, but it shouldn’t be longer than a few more days before Charis could give the order to deal a crucial blow against her enemy.

It wouldn’t end the war, though, which meant until she found the leverage she needed, Calera’s alliances were more important than ever. Several other trade ships bound for Calera had gone down in the northern seas over the past few weeks, causing shortages in medical supplies, paper, fabric, and several types of metal used to forge weapons.

Lady Shawling had lived up to her reputation, and the rumor that the princess was close to achieving peace for the kingdom had spread far and wide. It had given Charis a modicum of breathing space, but even that was starting to disintegrate as no new developments had been reported to the kingdom gossips.

For proof that the factions were getting impatient, Charis had only to look to her right, where Lord Thorsby sat at Lady Rynce’s sumptuous banquet table dabbing his gleaming forehead with a purple silk handkerchief and fussing with his place setting until every utensil was lined up like the ruler-straight rows of a military parade. The more he tried to balance the competing views of Mother’s royal council, the sweatier and more fastidious he became.

To her left, Ambassador Shyrn from Rullenvor ate with gusto. Lady Channing and Lady Everly sat across from her.

Ferris’s mother had already made three attempts to corral Charis into agreeing to outings alone with her son. Lord Thorsby was cutting his food into tiny, perfectly symmetrical pieces in between forehead dabs. Ambassador Shyrn was vocally critical of the food even while he ate as if he’d been starving for a week. And Lady Channing was watching Charis with a thoughtful expression.

As far as Charis was concerned, the luncheon to raise money for new army uniforms couldn’t end fast enough. But until it did, she had a job to do.

She took a bite of puffed fish pie, savoring the delicate cream sauce and the hint of spice before turning to Lord Thorsby. “My dear sir, does the food disagree with you today?”

He set his knife down, carefully lined up with the rest of his cutlery, and dabbed his upper lip. “Not at all, Your Highness. The food is quite delicious.”

“Then why aren’t you eating?”

His hands fluttered over his plate as if trying to find one thing he might want to put into his mouth, and then he said, “I’m afraid I’m a bit distracted, and it’s taken away my appetite.”

Charis nodded in understanding. “You have an unenviable job, Lord Thorsby.”

“Just so.” He mopped his forehead enthusiastically. “I have Lord Pellinsworth in my ear at least once a day demanding to know why we aren’t ending the war, no matter the cost to the north. And then there are Lady Ollen and Lady Whitecross, who, as you know, grow very impatient to invade Montevallo.”

Charis sipped her sparkling mulberry wine. “It must be quite difficult to listen well and still remind them that a problem that has been growing for eighteen years can’t be solved overnight.”

“Do you really think you’ll be successful?” Ambassador Shyrn asked, his mouth full of braised golden leeks.

Charis lifted her chin and cut him with a look. “I have no doubt.”

“You may not have doubts, but plenty of your subjects do.” He reached for his glass.

Lady Channing leaned over her plate and addressed the ambassador. “You forget your place, Ambassador Shyrn. You are new to your appointment here in Calera and cannot possibly be expected to fully understand the complexities of the situation.”

“I may be new to Calera, my lady, but you forget I served for three years in Montevallo before this. I am no stranger to this war.”

“You are an outside observer, no matter which court you serve in,” Charis said, a hint of frost in her voice. “And while we welcome you to discuss Rullenvor’s interests with us, that is the extent of your responsibilities here.”

Servants flooded the room to remove plates and set the third course before the attendees. Tal stepped forward as one of Lady Rynce’s servants approached Charis. Raising a hand to halt the servant’s progress, Tal took Charis’s plate himself and handed it to the servant in exchange for the bowl of chilled cucumber and dill soup with little rosettes of flaky spiced pastry puffs decorating the side of the plate. He set the food before Charis, bowed to her, and stepped back.

Ambassador Shyrn stared at Tal, who stood quite close behind Charis to make sure no one could approach her without his permission, and then looked back at the princess. “Perhaps we should discuss such matters at another time, Your Highness. This is hardly private.”

Charis raised a brow as Ambassador Shyrn shot another suspicious look at Tal. “I assure you, Ambassador, my bodyguard is with me everywhere I go and is the soul of discretion.”

He frowned in Tal’s direction. “Never trust the help, Your Highness. You can’t be sure of their loyalty.”

Charis set her teeth, but before she could respond, Lady Everly said firmly, “Every servant knows better than to cross Charis. If they fail, the queen has them beheaded. It makes for an astonishing degree of loyalty.”

Something dark and dangerous flared to life in Charis. How could Lady Everly so casually mention sending servants to their deaths? As if their lives meant nothing?

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