Page 95 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“Threaten to break his teacup if he crosses you.” Tal grinned at her, but there was a shadow in his eyes.

She reached across to lay her hand on his arm for a moment. “Thank you for making me laugh about this. I feel better. Especially because winter is coming. Months and months of ice and snow.”

“Months and months,” he agreed, the shadow lifting.

A carriage rolled down the Everlys’ drive and moved past Charis and Tal. Charis was looking at Tal, at the way the weak sunlight gilded his hair with strands of glittering gold. At the flecks of green in his brown eyes and the tiny scar on the right side of his chin.

“I know that man,” Tal said.

“What man?” Charis looked around.

“In the carriage. That was Ambassador Shyrn.”

“The ambassador from Rullenvor?” Charis stared after the carriage. “Let’s make sure.”

She nudged her mount into a canter, with Tal by her side. Soon, they pulled abreast of the carriage. As they passed it, Charis looked inside. Ice formed in the pit of her stomach, and she glanced away quickly before the man in the carriage could realize she’d been looking.

All ambassadors were required to submit their schedules to the palace. Social engagements had to be approved by the royal secretary. Charis was absolutely certain no early morning meeting with Lord Everly had been approved for the Rullenvor ambassador, and she couldn’t think of a single good reason for them to be meeting in secret.

“We’re going home,” Charis said as they left the carriage behind them. “Hurry!”

They galloped back the way they’d come, only slowing as the stable yard came into view. Grim and another groom hurried out to meet them. Charis pulled her horse to a halt, slid down, and was already running toward the palace before Tal finished dismounting.

“If you’re about to meet the queen and call in the ambassador, you’ll need to change into a dress worthy of the occasion,” he said as he caught up to her.

“And I’ll need my sword.”

“Ambassador Shyrn is going to be very sorry he crossed you.”

Mother and Charis stood side by side in the queen’s office, both wearing bold hues of crimson and gold. The queen wore daggers on both wrists. Charis had her ceremonial sword strapped to her waist, the hilt formed from the bodies of three intertwined snakes. The largest snake’s mouth surrounded the blade, its ruby eyes glaring as it sank its fangs into the metal.

Lord Everly stood at attention in front of them. He had not been invited to sit.

“Your Majesty, may I ask the reason for this meeting?”

“I should think you know the reason, Blaise.” Queen Letha cut into him with a single look and waited.

“I . . .” He looked around the room as if to check to make sure no one but Tal was there to overhear him. “I admit that I’m a bit confused about being summoned here this early, but I would like to report an inappropriate visit to my home by Ambassador Shyrn from Rullenvor.”

“And why did I have to summon you to receive this report?”

Lord Everly adjusted his cravat and looked at Charis. She wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword. If he thought he’d find mercy in this room, he’d badly misjudged his sovereigns.

“The meeting happened not more than thirty minutes ago—”

“Nearly an hour at this point,” Charis said crisply. “Or do you think we aren’t aware of what happens right under our noses?”

“No, of course, an hour. I simply lost track of the time.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I planned to make my report in person rather than send a note. It seemed important enough to warrant a visit.”

“So it is,” the queen said.

A knock sounded on the door, and a page hurried in, handed the queen two letters, each bearing a wax seal, and then left. The queen moved to her desk to open the parchments. Charis kept her cold stare on Lord Everly, taking it as a personal victory when sweat dotted his pale brow.

“Interesting,” the queen said as she returned to stand beside Charis. “I’ve just had notes from both Lady Channing and Lady Whitecross that Ambassador Shyrn visited them this morning. Apparently”—she made a show of looking at the parchments—“they felt the visit was unusual enough to warrant my immediate notification. They have both also made themselves available for an interview at my convenience today.” She rolled up the parchments. “What have you to say for yourself, Blaise?”

He shook his head. “Your Majesty, a simple oversight. Truly. I wanted to discuss it with you in person. It was . . . a strange meeting. Unsettling.”

“Explain,” the queen said. “If we’re satisfied with your answer, you get to keep your title, your lands, and your head. If we aren’t . . .”

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