Page 60 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“It would be a small matter as king to seize your family’s property in the capital and order you north to the battle lines.” A vein bulged in Ferris’s temple. “In fact, I may have a word with Father to see if we can’t go ahead and conscript Holland right now. As council member, he works closely with both the queen and the general—”

“Give me your sword, Holland.” Nalani turned to her brother.

He winked. “Told you this wasn’t polite society.”

“That will be enough.” Charis’s cold voice cut through Ferris’s spluttering response, and he fell silent, frowning at her expression as if surprised to see that she was speaking to him and not to the twins.

“Charis, you know our parents have long discussed the advantages of a union between us. I’ve devoted my life to learning how to be king at your side.” He glanced at Holland and tried unsuccessfully to wipe the animosity from his face. “I apologize for speaking out of turn to the Farragins, but we both know I should be the one to escort you to the delegates.”

Once upon a time, Charis would have had to walk a careful line between putting Ferris in his place and leaving the door to a potential marriage open. He was right that many in the kingdom expected a union between them. Fourth cousin was far enough removed to be an acceptable match, and his father’s long service as one of the queen’s closest advisors put him in a good position to understand the intricacies of governing Calera.

But now . . . now the proposal for a peace treaty that included Charis’s hand in marriage to the enemy was in King Alaric’s hands. She couldn’t imagine he’d turn down the chance to end the war while also gaining port access and placing his son on the throne. If he did, then Charis had bigger problems than a few ruffled feelings on the part of Ferris Everly.

“I escort myself.” Her voice was crisp. “I always have, and regardless of who I marry, I always will.” She met Ferris’s eyes. “Calera has one throne, and when Mother is ready to abdicate, it will be mine, and mine alone.”

Movement caught her eye, and she looked past Ferris to see the queen enter the ballroom. The jewels sewn into the rich cream of her silk dress glittered beneath the chandeliers as she moved through the crowds, dispensing nods and brief words to those who quickly curtsied and bowed in her direction. Her spine was sword-straight. Her mouth curved into her familiar cold, distant smile.

And yet Charis knew instantly that something was wrong.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, already moving toward the queen.

“Mother!” Charis smiled widely for the benefit of the nobility and grasped her mother’s outstretched hand. “What is it?” she breathed as she reached the queen’s side. “Where are the trade delegates?”

“Drowned.” The queen’s voice was a whiplash of quiet rage.

Charis kept her expression smooth as glass while her heart thundered in her ears and a pit opened in her stomach. “What?”

Mother nodded graciously to those closest to them and turned herself and Charis toward the golden throne that was set on a dais against the wall to their right.

“We received a palloren bird from the Rullenvor delegate two hours ago. They were the last in line behind the ships from Solvang and Thallis as they neared our harbor. The message said they were less than twenty furlongs out when they saw the ships ahead of them go down.”

Charis swallowed hard, desperately trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “Go down how? An attack?”

“What else could it be?” The queen’s fury vibrated through her voice like a plucked wire. “Montevallo must have access to ships. That’s why they hit Irridusk. It wasn’t to move toward the capital. It was to create a clear path to the mostly abandoned harbor of Portsmith.”

“Then we send out the navy. Chase them down.”

“I did. Nine ships.” There was a thread of worry in her voice now. “They never returned.”

Charis stared at her mother, heart pounding in sickening thuds against her ribs. “How could Montevallo suddenly have the means to sink so many ships?”

“I don’t know, but we’d better hope King Alaric accepts our peace terms, because the Rullenvor delegate turned back to their kingdom, and as soon as the rest of our allies hear what happened, they’ll refuse to trade with us as well. We’re on our own.”

Twenty-Three

“ALL THE TRADE delegate ships went down?”

“Not Rullenvor, though that’s not going to help much if—”

“This is a disaster!”

“Nine naval boats lost? How could—”

“Impossible. Simply im—”

“Montevallo must have help. Another kingdom must be—”

“Silence.” The queen’s voice cut through the frantic din of voices filling the war room as she and Charis entered. The noise stopped immediately. She faced her council, her ball gown glittering in the light of the oil lamps lit along the walls. Far from the war room, the ball continued. The queen and Charis had stayed at the festivities for over an hour, greeting guests, picking at the plates of food their staff presented them, and spreading the story that the delegates had been unavoidably delayed, but that it was no reason not to enjoy the party.

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