Page 81 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

She nodded imperiously to the cluster of ladies near the mansion’s entrance but didn’t stop, though she could tell they were dying to speak with her. Let them see that she had more important things to do than be a piece of meat they tore apart with their gossiping little tongues.

The Everlys’ drawing room was an ostentatious affair. Blush-colored plaster met ornate, scalloped molding, and a ceiling full of hand-painted water nymphs looked down upon the guests, who mingled in small clusters while maids in starched gray uniforms handed out plates of tiny sandwiches and delicate cups of tea.

Charis watched Tal as he skirted the edges of the massive entrance hall and disappeared into the small sitting room that had been set aside for staff members of the Everlys’ guests. Reuben took up his post just inside the drawing room doors, his eyes roving over the guests, hunting for trouble, while Elsbet walked a half step ahead of Charis. She’d much rather have had Tal with her, but they’d decided this was a good opportunity to see if the staff members of other noble houses were sharing any interesting gossip that could narrow down Bartho’s location. Charis refused to trust anyone but Tal with the job. He was far too perceptive and observant to be wasted following her around a drawing room.

Satisfied that her staff were where they should be, Charis surveyed the room, quickly sorting through her priorities.

Her hosts first, though she dreaded the inevitable confrontation with Ferris, who would know for certain now that his hopes of being king were dashed.

Next, she’d approach the few members of the northern nobility in attendance. They had the most personal stake in the peace treaty and needed to hear their princess assure them that their villages would be rebuilt with Montevallian jewels once the wedding took place.

The cluster of lords and ladies with Lady Vera Shawling at their center would need attention before tea was over. Charis could put to rest any rumors that weren’t to Calera’s advantage and start a few that were in a matter of moments.

And finally, she’d make sure to speak to each council member before the night concluded. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze scraped over Lady Ollen whispering furiously to Lord Thorsby, whose green silk handkerchief was in grave danger of being ruined by the anxious sweat dotting his brown face. There were ruffled feathers to smooth, and she would do it in a way that reminded them who was truly in charge of this kingdom.

She bared her teeth in a smile as ice prickled beneath her skin.

“Your Highness, you look lovely. I apologize that Lord Everly isn’t here to greet you. He’s sorting out a small issue with the additional kitchen staff we hired for today. But he sends his compliments,” Lady Everly gushed, dropping into a curtsy while cutting a swift glance to her right at Ferris, who stood beside his mother, his tea coat and cravat perfectly complementing her pale blue dress.

Ferris stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and said in smooth, courteous tones, “Allow me to offer my congratulations on finally negotiating peace with Montevallo.”

Charis looked from one to the other, letting her gaze settle on Ferris like a blade poised above his neck. “I’m surprised to hear you congratulate me for allowing a Montevallian into the palace.” Her voice was just as courteous as his, though there was a sharp edge to it.

His mother gave him another swift glance freighted with meaning, and Ferris smiled, sly and knowing. “It’s not the kind of peace I’d hoped we’d accomplish together, but it is peace, and it gives us a way into Montevallian politics. Perhaps some leverage, if we play it right.”

“We?” One brow rose as Charis let the word drop between them, cold as the marble floors beneath their feet.

His smile hardened. “If I can’t help rule Calera by your side, then I can be the force at your back. The head of your council. And if the king consort doesn’t measure up in . . . other areas”—his gaze swept her body and slowly returned to her face—“then I can help you there, too.”

Twin spots of pink bloomed on Lady Everly’s cheeks, though when she looked at Charis, her gaze was just as eager as her son’s.

Mother’s words echoed in Charis’s head as she let any lingering warmth in her eyes die.

Everyone wanted Charis for her power. Either to take it from her or to use it for themselves.

And those who wanted to use her deserved nothing but her contempt.

Her eyes bore into Ferris’s as she said coolly, “When I take the throne, I will certainly remember this conversation as I choose my council members. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Turning, she stalked toward the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall overlooking the sumptuous gardens. Guests took one look at her face and moved swiftly out of her way even while they scrambled to drop into curtsies or bows.

So Ferris and his parents thought they could still position him beside Charis. Still pair him with her to share the responsibility of ruling Calera. It was a shame they held so much wealth and influence. Clearly, they were under the impression that being in power was their due, but without concrete evidence that they’d actually moved against the throne, Charis couldn’t risk alienating their friends and supporters by banning them from the capital, no matter how satisfying that would be to her personally.

“Your Highness.” Lord Severin, a tall, thin man whose clothes hung a bit loosely on his sticklike frame, bowed as she reached his side. He could trace his ancestry on his mother’s side to Solvang and had the high cheekbones and golden skin to prove it. Lord Palmer, who barely reached Lord Severin’s shoulder and whose shock of red hair was beginning to turn silver, quickly bowed as well.

“I apologize for interrupting your conversation,” Charis said with sincerity.

Both northern landowners hurried to assure her they couldn’t be more pleased. She smiled. “That’s very kind, but the truth is that you must have questions and concerns. Your lands have been deeply affected by the war. I wanted to personally assure you that the plight of your villages was utmost in my mind as we negotiated the peace treaty, and I want to address any misgivings. Now, what questions do you have?”

“When will the Montevallian army leave our lands?” Lord Severin asked.

“And how will we get the resources necessary to rebuild? I have five villages that have sustained heavy damage, not to mention our seriously depleted food stores for winter. And Severin here has lost Irridusk completely.” Lord Palmer blinked as the setting sun bathed the garden in gold and sent piercing rays through the windows. Turning his back on the scene, he faced the princess.

“The army will leave once the wedding is final,” Charis said, “though they will not attack again. And I’ve negotiated a generous settlement of Montevallian jewels as part of the prince’s dowry. I will use those jewels to pay for the rebuilding of our northern territories. I can’t replace the lives that have been lost, but I can give you safety, security, and a chance at prosperity once more.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Severin said. “And please know that those of us in the north support you. Your father is well loved, and you show his courage and his heart. If the Montevallian prince gives you any trouble, we stand at your service for whatever you need.”

She smiled, warm and sincere. “I thank you. I am confident I can manage a single prince, but should he prove troublesome, I know whom to call upon for help. Do you have any other questions?”

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