Page 34 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

Fourteen

HOURS LATER, LONG after darkness had fallen, Charis held the hand of the last in a long line of people who had waited to meet their princess. Tal stood beside her, constantly scanning their surroundings for potential threats. Other royal guards stood nearby, though not close enough to overhear what the princess was saying. The rest of the delegation had already retired to the inn, with the exception of Nalani, who was busy assessing the camp’s needs and making notes.

Charis focused on the person in front of her, whom she could see in the golden glow of torches lit along the path that led from the three-story inn behind Charis to the neat line of tents that formed the refugee camp. The woman’s eyes were filmy with age, and her wrinkled skin felt paper thin.

“Your Highness,” she whispered as she bowed her head.

“What’s your name?” Charis asked.

“Lourain, Your Highness.” The woman grasped Charis’s hand in both of hers. “Thank you for coming.”

“Will you tell me your story?” Charis asked.

“I’ve lived in Irridusk all my life.” Her hands shook, and Charis shifted her grip so that she was holding Lourain’s hands instead of the other way around.

“You’re from Irridusk?”

The woman’s eyes shone with tears. “It’s all ruined. Hilmer and I had a farm at the outskirts, though he’s been gone three winters now. My granddaughter was out helping me with the evening chores. We saw the smoke from town, and the neighbor boy came running to tell us. . . .”

“Oh, Lourain.” Charis ached to somehow wipe away the woman’s pain.

“Saved us, Noah did. Smart little thing. Eight, I think. No, nine. Had a birthday a month ago.” She looked at the tents that were staked in the field behind her. “His sister made it out, but he didn’t. Too busy running from farm to farm trying to get everyone else safe.”

The woman looked beseechingly at Charis. “My granddaughter and I ran south, but I can’t find my daughter. It took us nearly a day and a half to get from Irridusk to the camp, so she might still be on her way. Her name is Ellis. She’s a bit taller than you, with red hair, and the baby is almost one. Have you seen her?”

Charis bent over their clasped hands. “I haven’t, but I’ll let the staff here know to look for her. And I’ll give her description to those who run the refugee center in Arborlay as well.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“I’m so very sorry for what’s happened to you, Lourain. You deserve justice and safety, and I will do my best to get that for you.”

Lourain kissed the princess’s hands and then left to return to the camp. Charis stood in the dark for a long moment, the weight of every story she’d heard settling on her shoulders like stone.

The suffering of her people was palpable. The loss they bore nearly unbearable. There had to be an answer that would free those who were still captives and return land to those who’d been displaced. An answer that would satisfy the blood debt Montevallo owed but still achieve lasting peace so that her people could remain safe.

If an answer existed, it didn’t present itself to Charis as she stood there surrounded by the hum of voices from the camp, the smell of food cooking, and the distant sister moons bathing the hills in pale blue light.

“Your Highness,” Tal said quietly beside her.

She looked at him.

“You’re shivering.”

He was right. A brisk autumn breeze scoured the hills, sneaking past Charis’s travel dress and tracing goose bumps across her skin.

“The rest of the party has retired to the inn,” he said. “If you’d like to remain here, may I send a guard to get your cloak?”

“They’re suffering,” she said, as if that was the answer to his question.

“I know.” There was misery in his voice. “But you shivering in the cold isn’t going to help them.”

“Then what will?” she demanded, wrapping her arms around her as much for the warmth as to restrain the grief in her chest, grief that was echoed in the faces of her people a hundred times over. She hadn’t planned to spill her thoughts to Tal, but she couldn’t face Lord Everly, Ferris, Lady Channing, or even the twins when everything inside her was raw and bleeding. She needed firm footing. A plan. Something she could bring to the discussion that would point her kingdom in the right direction.

It wasn’t enough to drive a portion of Alaric’s army into the sea. They’d never be able to catch him unaware like that twice, and they’d already proven they couldn’t take the invasion into Montevallo’s mountains. She needed leverage. Some way to force Alaric to begin talks of peace.

“I don’t know if there’s a simple answer,” Tal said.

“But there has to be an answer, even if it isn’t simple. There must be. I can’t carry the suffering of my people and do nothing about it.” She turned to him. “You’ve been with me at meetings and events for the past few weeks. You know that I have Lord Everly and the rest of his supporters pushing hard to annex the northern territories to King Alaric.”

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