Page 80 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

Charis smiled. “Everyone does. Except Mother, but even she doesn’t actively dislike him.”

“He really loves you. He understands you, accepts you, and truly loves you.”

Something dark lingered in his voice, a nameless hurt that cast a shadow over his eyes as he finished the braid and then met Charis’s gaze in the mirror.

“I’m sure your father loves you, too,” Charis said gently.

Tal’s hands stilled on Charis’s shoulders, and a muscle along his jaw tensed. Finally, he said quietly, “No, I don’t think so. I could never be what he wanted me to be, and no matter what I did, he was never proud of me. When given a choice between saving me and throwing me to the wolves, he chose the wolves.”

Charis reached up to place her hand over Tal’s and said fiercely, “Well, then, he chose wrong.”

“Thank you,” Tal said. He squeezed her shoulder lightly and then turned toward his room. “I’m going to bed. Don’t sneak out while I’m sleeping.”

“Are you going to keep saying that to me every single night before bed?”

Tal stopped and patted his chest. “Let’s see. Ah, there it is. The memory of near heart failure. Yes, I will continue saying that to you every single night before bed. If you don’t like it, you should think twice before giving me heart failure again.”

Charis crawled into bed with a smile on her face. Worries about the betrothal could be shoved into a corner of her mind, along with her fear of losing her father. Those were fears for the future. Instead, she held her memories of the night with Father, Tal, and Ilsa close. Tender, golden moments that would carry her through whatever the week would bring.

Tonight, she would go to sleep comforted by the time she’d spent with people who truly loved her, not because of anything she could do for them but simply because she was their Charis.

Thirty

THE CARRIAGE MOVED sedately through the long, winding streets that wrapped around the capital’s southern neighborhoods. Enormous stone mansions with immaculate lawns, stately gardens full of autumn colors, and golden rooftops that glowed in the late afternoon sun were set at a respectable distance from the cobblestone road.

Charis shifted against the plush velvet carriage seat and smoothed the skirt of her rose-and-ivory dress. Tiny, delicate silver blades were stitched into the hemline like jewels, and a chain of opals wrapped around her waist. She adjusted the dagger sheaths she wore on each wrist and wished she’d insisted on wearing a sword as well.

Mother sat opposite her, dressed in a stunning gown that began as the color of delicate sunshine at the neckline and darkened until her hem was a pool of glowing amber. Mother’s latest maid sat beside her, holding the queen’s cape, muff, and a small bag of toiletries in case the queen or Charis needed to freshen up between tea and dinner. Tal sat beside Charis in his dress uniform.

“Remember”—Mother’s voice was as crisp as the air outside the carriage—“everyone will be wondering how you feel about the betrothal. This is your first appearance after our official announcement to the kingdom, and it is imperative that all in attendance leave feeling confident that you are more than capable of keeping the new king consort in line once he arrives.”

Charis nodded obediently. She knew all this. Knew that she was on display from the moment she left the carriage, even more so than usual. Every expression, every word, every gesture would be noticed, analyzed, and then discussed at length, first in the Everlys’ drawing room, and then throughout the city, until it spread to the entire kingdom. She could almost hear their whispers now.

What if the new king takes over?

What if this is a ploy to steal our kingdom and give it to Montevallo?

What if Charis isn’t strong enough? Smart enough? Ruthless enough?

What if this ruins everything?

Charis drew a fortifying breath as the carriage turned onto the lane that led up a gentle slope to the Everly mansion, where a line of carriages waited in front of the house while uniformed pages helped nobility disembark and then sent the carriages around back to park in the field beside the stables.

What would she do if the new king consort tried to take over and give Calera to his father? What if he proved difficult to manage? Sly and dishonorable, just like the rest of the Montevallians who’d passed through the Willowthorns’ dungeon?

What if he was a man who craved violence and pain like Reuben, and every day for the rest of her life she would be forced to use fury as her armor as she fought to keep him in his place?

Her mouth went dry as the carriage rolled to a stop, her pulse thundering in her ears. Already, flocks of ladies in brilliant silks and gentlemen in dress coats and fine cravats clustered near the mansion’s entrance, their eyes on the royal carriage, their faces alight with speculation as they whispered to each other.

As the door opened and the queen stepped regally from the carriage, Tal’s fingers brushed the top of Charis’s hand and pressed lightly. When Charis turned to look at him, Tal said softly, “You are smarter, stronger, and far more cunning than the lot of them put together, Your Highness. None of them could do what you’ve already done for Calera. They’re lucky to have you. Don’t let them forget it.”

The pressure building within Charis lessened a fraction, and she gave Tal a tiny smile. “Thank you. Now remember, Elsbet will shadow me for the first hour. I need you to mingle with the staff from other households. Listen closely for talk of Bartho, but don’t—”

“Get caught. I know how to be invisible when I need to be,” Tal said, a shadow passing briefly over his expression.

Not for the first time, Charis wondered if Tal’s father had made him feel invisible. Or maybe he’d been so horrible, Tal had learned to move through his life without leaving a mark in order to escape his father’s attention. Giving Tal’s arm a quick squeeze, she said, “Be careful.”

Then, calling on the ice in her heart to shield her, Charis left the carriage, spine straight, chin lifted, her expression promising ruin to any who dared to cross her.

---