Page 85 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

She raised her head and slowly perused the dining room. How many of the nobles in here were complaining as well? Stubbornly clinging to the idea that they could profit from Charis’s position or be avenged for what they’d lost to Montevallo. Focused only on what they each wanted without ever truly recognizing that, out of everyone in the room, Charis was the one who’d given up everything.

They weren’t going to spend the rest of their lives shackled to the enemy, watching every word, every move, for the slightest hint of betrayal. They weren’t going to walk a fine line between keeping Montevallo happy to ensure the peace and keeping the new king consort from taking too much power from the rightful heir. And they didn’t have to lie awake every night, slowly smothering the whisper in their hearts that had once hoped to be truly seen and truly loved.

Yet here they were, arguing over which of them was most affected by the sacrifice Charis was making as if her feelings meant nothing. As if she was simply a pawn in a game that had caused them bitter disappointment.

Something dark and painful shivered beneath the fury in her heart, and she struggled to draw a breath past the sudden tightness in her throat.

“Your Highness, are you finished?” A girl with smooth white skin and short brown hair stood at Charis’s side, her hand extended toward the princess’s untouched plate of cheese and crackers.

Charis blinked.

“Your Highness?”

Slowly uncurling her fists, Charis swallowed hard, forcing the grief, the rage, back into a corner of her heart. She had information to uncover. A kingdom to assure. And a queen to satisfy. Whatever pain her heart carried would have to wait.

“You may take it,” she said quietly.

Ferris immediately turned toward her. “But, Charis, you haven’t had a bite.”

How he’d managed to notice that while he’d been busy arguing over his imagined injuries with Lady Ollen was beyond Charis, but it didn’t matter.

“I’m not very hungry,” she said, reaching for her wine and turning once more to Lady Ollen, who had grabbed the last of her cheese as the plate was being lifted away. “It must be frustrating to agree to our terms of peace without getting to punish Montevallo the way they deserve to be punished.”

The woman smiled slyly as she tapped a finger on the large green stone of her ring. “Serpanicite. Very rare gem mined in the mountains of Montevallo at least two centuries ago. Been in my family for decades. Worth more coin to the other sea kingdoms than the rest of my property combined. Maybe we didn’t get to burn their villages to the ground like I wanted, but we are stripping them of an obscene number of jewels. Enough to rebuild the northern territories and refresh the royal coffers while still having some left over to devote to bulking up our military. You’ll be able to learn the inner workings of Montevallo and discover their weaknesses by visiting the king consort’s home, and that means that once we’re in a position of strength again, we can destroy them if we decide that’s what is needed.”

Lady Ollen’s eyes were bright with fervor. Charis swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth and sat back as the waitstaff set a plate of roasted hen, pickled beet salad, and creamy golden squash soup in front of her. The taster stepped forward, tried each item, and then returned to his position against the wall.

This woman didn’t want Charis dead. Not when she was so invested in using the princess to set Montevallo up for possible invasion. She had no stake in changing the wording on the treaty to “the heir.” Not when everyone involved knew that while Charis was capable of managing the enemy prince in a way that benefited Calera, the others in line for the throne didn’t have her training, her experience, or her ruthless will to do whatever was required.

Ferris, on the other hand, had revealed something interesting indeed. And the only way to get him to reveal more was to play to his ego. She took another sip of wine to moisten her mouth and then treated Ferris to a dazzling smile and said, “You and your father are truly resourceful, aren’t you?”

He froze for an instant—a breath of hesitation in which his hand hovered between his soup bowl and his mouth—and then he leaned forward, his smile matching hers. “I’m glad you see it, Charis. We want only to be the support behind the throne.”

Charis kept her lip from curling in derision. Barely. Ferris wanted a good deal more than to be the support behind the throne. The question was just how far he was willing to go to get it.

“I’m so glad Lord Everly was able to make a plan for that. I assume that meant being highly involved in the language of the treaty itself, of course.” She said it like she already knew it to be fact, and Ferris nodded.

“I’m sure he was.”

Charis cocked her head. “He didn’t share that with you?”

Ferris swallowed a bite of soup hastily while a faint pink crept up his fair neck. “Because I’m not yet a member of the council, I, of course, wasn’t privy to the details of his meetings with Lord Thorsby. But Father has assured me that our family will continue to be very involved in the running of Calera. I’m sure that gives you peace of mind.”

Charis smiled and reached for her soup spoon, though her fingers felt a bit clammy. Why would Lord Everly keep his dealings with Lord Thorsby a secret from his son? Was it simply because he was obeying the queen’s orders to be discreet on the matter? Or did he have a plan to put Ferris on the throne and didn’t trust his son to keep it quiet?

Swallowing past the dryness in her throat, she said, “I would be interested to hear the details—”

“Let me in. Let me in!” a familiar voice echoed from the staff doorway.

A wave of scandalized whispers swept the room as the occupants of both tables turned, craning their necks to see the commotion. Charis half rose in her chair to see Tal struggling to get past the pair of Everly guards who were stationed at the door.

“You don’t understand,” Tal said roughly. “I have to get to the princess!”

“No one comes through this door who isn’t authorized by the Everlys,” the guard said firmly, twisting Tal’s arm behind his back the better to force him to leave.

Charis stood quickly, intent on reaching Tal before the scene became something the queen wouldn’t forgive, but the room swayed and pitched as though she were on the deck of a ship in a storm. Gasping, she grabbed for the edge of the table to keep herself upright, and Tal yelled, “Charis!”

Charis raised her head and met Tal’s gaze as the man began dragging him out of the doorway. Her vision went hazy at the edges. The sound of Tal yelling at the guard felt as if it was coming from a great distance. Something dark and dangerous flared to life on Tal’s face, and he planted a foot, pivoted toward the guard who held him, and plowed a fist into his throat. As the guard stumbled back, choking, Tal shoved his way past the other guard and ran toward the princess.

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