Page 59 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

To the right, Lord and Lady Severin stood against the wall, their stiff postures at odds with those of the other nobility, some of whom had already begun dancing. The most recent raids by Montevallo had cost them dearly. Irridusk had been one of their main sources of income.

Huddled against the far corner, a trio of wealthy nobles who shipped Caleran goods to the other sea kingdoms were deep in conversation. They looked agitated.

Spinning on the dance floor was Lady Vera Shawling, her wrinkled mouth painted a bold red as she regaled her partner with whatever rumor she was currently eager to spread across the kingdom. The right story planted with her could yield fruit with Charis’s ongoing search for the traitor behind the recent assassination attempts.

“There you are.” Nalani, dressed in a stunning pink-and-gold dress, looped her arm through Charis’s and whispered, “Lady Delaire is still trying to flirt with my brother. It’s downright painful to watch. But good news! I got Lord Morrison to donate to the refugee center.” She took a peek at the back of Charis’s head. “Oh, your hair is magnificent!”

“Tal did it.”

“Tal, you are a boy of hidden talents.” Nalani grinned at him and then sized him up in his dress coat and blue cravat. “And don’t you look handsome tonight?”

“Thank you, Lady Nalani,” Tal said, sounding amused.

Charis let her focus drift around the room again as she sized up her priorities.

The Severins or the ship owners? Quickly weighing her duties, she decided to speak with the Severins first. They needed to know their rulers were working on their behalf to right the wrong done to them. Charis made a mental note to add a massive shipment of jewels from Montevallo’s mines to the itemized list of things she would expect as the enemy prince’s dowry.

“. . . and then Holland told her he would prefer to never be invited to tea again, and you should’ve seen Delaire’s face. I thought—are you even listening to me?” Nalani demanded.

“Of course,” Charis said smoothly, giving her cousin’s arm a little squeeze as she glanced across the room to find Delaire, her brown skin glowing in the candlelight, looking a bit crestfallen. “Holland is incorrigible.”

“You’ll turn my head with such flattery,” Holland said cheerfully as he approached them. Charis’s lips twitched as she took in his usual black duster, his plain white shirt without a cravat, and the sword strapped to his hip.

“Only if I let you keep your head attached to your neck,” Nalani said. “You know Mother made you promise to do at least three dances tonight.”

“Indeed.” Holland’s countenance fell briefly, then brightened. “But she didn’t say who my partners had to be.”

Charis shook her head, laughing as Holland pivoted, bowed low to a very surprised matron in a dark purple gown with a pair of glasses nestled in her silvery hair, and escorted her to the dance floor.

“How can he possibly enjoy dancing with a grandmother more than with someone like Delaire?” Nalani asked.

“Maybe he’s just doing his best to be what’s expected of him even though we all know he’s never going to fit that mold.” The words stung, a tiny bite of pain in the part of Charis’s heart that longed for a different life.

She fit the mold of a princess. If she sometimes wished for more, for connections that were about her and not her title, it was nothing she couldn’t silence with enough willpower.

“Your Highness, may I have this dance?” a polished voice said in Charis’s ear.

She schooled her face into calm disinterest as she turned to find Ferris Everly standing at her elbow. He was dressed impeccably in a fine gray silk dress coat with a red cravat at his neck. His light blue eyes examined Charis from her neck to her feet and back again, looking as though someone had presented him with his favorite dessert. He treated her to a wide smile, and she reminded herself that it was unseemly for the princess to throat punch a member of the nobility in the middle of a ballroom.

Nalani pulled Charis closer. “We were just going to find the queen and the trade delegates.”

“I’ll come along, then.” Ferris offered an arm to Charis, who answered his smile with one of her own.

“I had no idea the queen had asked you to greet the delegates, Ferris. When did that happen?” Her voice dripped sweetness even as her smile grew thin and razor-sharp.

His brow furrowed, though he didn’t drop his arm. “As your fourth cousin and the most eligible man for the position of king, it’s only right that I meet the delegates with you.”

“Who says you’re the most eligible?” Holland asked as he disentangled himself from the matron he’d escorted to the dance floor and moved to his sister’s side.

Ferris gave Holland’s attire a disparaging glance and said stiffly, “I see you still haven’t figured out how to be an adequate member of the nobility.”

Holland laughed. “And I see you still haven’t figured out how to be a decent person.”

“You’ll want to watch your tone, Holland.” Ferris took a step toward the other boy. “A union between myself and Charis makes the most political sense, and as king, I will not look kindly upon those who speak poorly to me.”

“If you can’t handle hearing the truth about yourself, then maybe you should make a few changes.” Nalani wrapped her free arm around her brother’s and glared at Ferris. “You could start with keeping your eyes on Charis’s face instead of looking at her body like it’s a buffet table. And then you could ask yourself why you feel the need to insult my brother, your cousin, when everyone knows he’s twice the man you’ll ever be.”

Holland bumped Nalani’s shoulder gently with his own and gave her a little smile. Tal looked as though he was contemplating murder.

---