Page 54 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

Charis turned toward him and froze. The light in his eyes made a flicker of heat blaze to life within her. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Tal looked at the daggers in his hands.

“These are yours. I mean, of course you know that. It’s just . . . I . . . did you want them both, or should I go put one away? I should go put one away. I’m going.” He disappeared into her bedroom before she had a chance to respond.

She took a deep breath, willing the strange flicker of heat to go away. She had an assassin to interrogate, and it was going to take every ounce of focus she had to make sure she got the information she needed. There was no room for anything else in her head.

When she was certain the rage she felt at the woman who’d shot Tal was all that burned within her, she left the bath chamber.

Tal stood by the door that led to the hall, a single dagger in his hand. His expression was remote. “Your Highness,” he said as he handed her the weapon.

She slid it into its sheath. It was time to swallow any hint of softness and sympathy. Time to reach for the rage that would shield her as she marched to the dungeons to extract the truth from someone who wanted her dead.

She was Charis Willowthorn. Let everyone who crossed her path today know that she was the most ruthless player on the board and tremble.

“Ready?” Tal asked.

Charis lifted her chin and let fury kindle throughout her veins. “Ready.”

She swept from her chambers, Tal at her heels. The bloodred dress swayed gently as she moved. The sheath at her wrist was a comforting weight, but the steel of her dagger was no match for the steel in her spine.

Charis would get what she came for, and seers help anyone who stood in her way.

Reuben and Elsbet instantly flanked Charis as she moved toward the main staircase. “Your Highness, I will happily manage the interrogation,” Reuben said.

“You will not even enter the prisoner’s cell.”

“With all due respect, a princess in a dress is hardly the kind of intimidation we need for this job.”

The fury in Charis’s blood sent a flush of heat over her skin. Stopping at the top of the staircase that led down to the back of the palace where the entrance to the dungeon was located, Charis turned, her movements slow and deliberate. Her gaze landed on Reuben, and she imagined pulling her dagger, slicing through muscle, and carving Milla’s name into his bones.

Her mouth curved into a smile, vicious and cruel. Reuben swallowed hard.

“I am precisely what this interrogation needs.” Charis’s voice was just as vicious as her smile. She stepped closer to Reuben, her heart pounding as anger flashed across his face even while he slid back. Lowering her voice, Charis said, “And I will cut your tongue out of your mouth if you ever argue with me again.”

She caught a glimpse of Tal’s face and found that strange intensity burning in his eyes again. Tearing her gaze away from his, she turned and descended the staircase, her guards and Tal hurrying to keep up. The dungeon was a long, well-lit corridor carved from the white stone that formed the bedrock of Calera. The hallway had eight cells on either side—small rooms with a thin pallet for a bed, a bucket for necessities, and a hook in the wall with chains attached to it for prisoners deemed dangerous enough to require shackles. Thick wooden doors reinforced with iron bars kept prisoners securely in their cells.

A small office with a desk, a bookshelf, and several chairs was located at the dungeon’s entrance, and at the far end, past the last cell, was the huge iron door that led to the firepit.

Charis didn’t plan for the day’s visit to end with her prisoner’s body being thrown in the firepit. She needed to gain information—solid information—and then to keep her source alive in case she proved useful. Charis could think of several interesting ways to use the would-be assassin, but until she spoke with the woman, she wouldn’t know which path was best to explore.

Meredith Giordan, one of Charis’s favorite guards, was seated at the desk. Her skin was the dusky gold of her Veracian ancestors, and her voice still carried faint traces of the musical lilt of her parents’ kingdom. She rose to her feet when she saw the princess. “Your Highness.” She bowed.

“I’m here to speak with the Montevallian prisoner.”

“Yes, Your Highness. And may I be forward enough to say that I’m grateful she failed in her mission.” The guard reached for her keys and stepped around the desk.

“Thank you, Meredith. She would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for the courage of my bodyguard.” Charis nodded toward Tal, who looked slightly uncomfortable when every gaze landed on him.

The woman who’d shot an arrow at Charis looked to be only a few years older than the princess herself. Her red-blond hair was pulled into a messy braid, her clothes were rumpled, and there were bruises blooming on her bare arms and along her jawline courtesy of the city guard who hadn’t taken kindly to her treatment of their princess.

“Stand guard outside the door,” Charis said to Reuben and Elsbet. Reuben stared at her, and the anger in his eyes shivered through Charis until it met the shield of her own rage.

Maybe Reuben needed more than a lesson in what happened when people failed to respect Charis. Maybe he needed to become an object lesson for others who might want to follow his example.

“Tal, you’re with me.”

He followed Charis into the cell, stood beside the door, and glared at the woman chained to the far wall.

“I hope you’re enjoying your accommodations,” Charis said, her voice soft and almost friendly.

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