Page 87 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

A sharp pain spiked through her head as she sat up straighter, but she willed herself not to wince. She’d learned much at the Everlys’, and none of it could be dealt with from the comfort of her bed.

“Charis, lie back,” Father said, patting her shoulder as if that gentle pressure could make Charis submit.

“Mother, we must divide our focus for a moment,” Charis said as she wrapped her hand around Father’s to ease the sting of having his daughter ignore his wishes. “I learned several things yesterday.” She squeezed Father’s hand and then let go so she could tick off items on her fingers.

“First, the strange sound we heard out on the ship that one night is happening frequently around Portsmith, and bodies are washing ashore.”

The queen frowned. “It’s a small port. Inhospitable for merchant ships, but it could work as a staging ground for small battle vessels. Certainly it’s sheltered from the sea, and our naval ships wouldn’t see them unless they entered the port themselves.”

“Which they can’t do, because of their size,” Charis said. “Second”—she raised another finger—“we need to know where the Everlys hired their extra kitchen staff and where they got their taster.”

Icy fury sparked in the queen’s gaze. “I’ve already sent an inquiry and expect a full recounting, along with a list of names of every person who was involved in any part of the event.”

Something nagged at Charis. A small detail she’d ignored at the time because she’d invented a reason for it that made sense.

She frowned and stared out the window at the swoop of sea hawks gliding across the amber skies while the memories of the dinner played in her mind. Ferris’s hand on her arm as he interrupted her conversation with Lady Ollen. The clink of Lady Ollen’s massive ring against her pale blue goblet. The way the taster had gripped his tiny cup as he raised the tainted wine to his lips.

“Blue fingernails,” Charis said, turning back to find Mother, Father, and Tal all watching her. “The taster’s fingernails were whitish-blue. I thought he must be gripping the cup tightly because he was nervous, but . . .”

“But fingernails turn white and pink when you grip tightly,” Tal said, raising his own hand to demonstrate as he gripped the bedpost.

“So the taster built up an immunity to lisodor. That takes time,” Mother said.

“Which means someone put this plan into place a while ago,” Charis said, her voice steady though reality was scraping at her veneer of calm. How long did it take to build up an immunity to poison? Had someone been working toward her death long enough to have set this plan into motion in case other attempts failed? Or had they somehow stumbled upon a person who’d developed an immunity and was willing to do what was asked of him for the right amount of coin?

Father ran a hand down her back, smoothing her curls. “We should double your guard. Keep you isolated in your wing until we find the person responsible.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Father, but I’m afraid that’s impossible right now. I have far too many responsibilities, and our kingdom needs to feel utterly confident in me. They can’t do that if I’m hiding.”

Turning back to Mother, Charis ticked the third item off her fingers. “Finally, I learned that the council changed the treaty wording to say ‘the heir’ instead of my name.”

Tal made a small noise of protest.

“When was this?” The queen straightened her spine as if preparing to go into battle.

“It must have been right before they sent it. We’d already approved the final details, but I remember Thorsby saying they were meeting to draft a clean copy to send to King Alaric.”

“Why was your name in the treaty at all?” Father asked as he looked from Charis to the queen. “What have you agreed to?”

Charis drew in a breath. She’d forgotten that she’d protected him from knowing about the betrothal. She could blame waking up with a headache and the confusion of missing an entire day for that.

“Charis is marrying one of the Montevallian heirs in exchange for peace,” the queen said in a tone that made it clear he was not to argue with what was already done.

He ignored it.

“No, Charis.” He said her name as if it was delicate glass. “Not that.”

She blinked against the sudden tears that pricked her eyes and made herself smile at him again. “It’s all right, Father. I’ve already signed the contract.”

“But—”

“We need peace, Edias.” Mother began pacing as she spoke. “We’re losing badly in the north, and now we’re losing ships at sea. Charis was raised for this. She can keep the king consort in line and restore Calera to peace and prosperity once more.”

“Marriage should be about more than keeping a king consort in line.” Father’s voice was still quiet, but now there was steel within it.

Mother stopped pacing and stared at him.

“Charis needs someone she can trust. Someone she can be honest with.” His hand covered hers. “Someone who loves her more than he loves the idea of her title or how useful she can be to him.”

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