Page 57 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

Something she absolutely should not be feeling when her bodyguard looked at her.

He took a small step forward and closed the distance between them. Charis’s heart fluttered as he reached out a hand and then stopped, his palm hovering beside her hair.

“Do you want—”

“Yes,” she said, her cheeks burning when she realized she hadn’t let him finish his question. When she knew that the question she’d hoped he was asking was something she could never accept.

“Charis.” Something burned in his eyes—a twin to the flame that was consuming her from the inside out.

“I . . .” Her hair slid down and brushed against her ear. Quickly she reached for it, brushing against Tal’s hand in the process. She moved back, her knees bumping into her vanity chair.

He drew in an unsteady breath and looked at the ceiling. She sank into the chair and ordered her heart to stop pounding. When he looked back at her, there was a rueful little smile on his lips.

“Do you want my help with your hair?” he asked.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” She met his eyes and forced herself to hold his gaze, though the sweet, wild thing within her felt utterly exposed.

He settled his hands on the back of her chair and kept his eyes on hers. “I solemnly swear that I will do nothing but help you fix this disaster on top of your head. Furthermore, I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t prepared for how stunning you look, and I didn’t have my guard up so that I could keep my reaction from you. I’ll try hard not to let that happen again.”

“You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. You made me feel . . . I don’t know how to describe it.” Her cheeks burned again, but she kept going. “And that feeling, it’s dangerous. It’s a distraction, and worse, it isn’t something I’m free to give to you.”

His eyes closed briefly as if her words had landed hard, and then he opened them and smiled, real and genuine. “Definitely a dangerous distraction for us both. Let’s agree that you should strive to let Mrs. Sykes dress you from now on so we can be sure you will look a mess, and that I should remember you can cut out my tongue if I displease you.”

She laughed, relieved to be back on normal footing. “I’m saving the tongue removal for Reuben. I’ll think of a different punishment for you.”

A shadow crossed his face, but it was gone before she could identify it. “Make it legendary, please. Surely I deserve nothing less.”

Twenty minutes later, Tal made a noise of frustration as several jeweled pins sprang free of Charis’s hair and clattered to the floor. As she bent to retrieve them, Charis glanced swiftly at the clock resting on her bedside table.

The ball to welcome the trade delegates started in less than an hour. It would be the height of disrespect not to be standing at her mother’s side to greet them as they entered the ballroom, but she could hardly go looking like this.

“Your shoulder makes it hard for you to manage this mess by yourself,” Charis said. “Perhaps if we do it together.”

Tal craned his neck as if stretching muscles that were tight with pain and said, “Good plan.”

Together they worked Charis’s thick, unruly curls into a semblance of order, but one glance at the mirror told Charis it would never do. It was far too simple, no better than she would wear for a picnic at the shoreline or a lazy afternoon riding horses where she wanted her hair out of her face. It didn’t match the stunning, dramatic elegance of her dress in the least. And it was already starting to spring free of its pins.

Tal seemed to realize this as well. Frowning, he said, “This is a disaster.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Charis kept her tone light and began hunting through the jewelry box on her vanity for something that could hide her hair and become the focal point instead. Perhaps she could wear a jeweled headpiece. Or a crown, though dancing while wearing a heavy crown would leave her with a raging headache.

Tal raised a hand to push an errant curl back into the updo, managing to dislodge three more curls in the process. “It would help tremendously if your hair didn’t have such a stubborn mind of its own.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Meanwhile, I have very little time left before I have to be there to greet the delegates. I simply need to show them I’m strong, capable, and someone they’d far rather have as a friend than an enemy.” Charis turned back to the vanity. “I’ll just wear a crown. There are five in the velvet boxes—”

“Anyone can wear a crown.” Tal looked thoughtfully at Charis’s hair and then pulled the hairpins free, sending her curls tumbling down her back.

“Well . . . not anyone.”

Tal hardly seemed to be listening. Instead, he turned Charis away from the vanity and prowled around her, tugging at curls and running his long fingers beneath the mass as if encouraging it to rise from Charis’s scalp and become something wild and free.

Charis closed her eyes as his warm hands pressed against her temples and then gently tugged at her hair. He smelled like soap and the black-leaf tea he preferred, and somehow those scents together sent an ache of longing through her veins.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Tal whispered.

Her eyes flew open to find him bending toward her, his hands still in her hair. The pulse in his neck beat rapidly.

“I didn’t even have my eyes open, so I couldn’t possibly have been looking at you,” she said, but her voice was breathless.

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