Page 44 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

Once Lady Channing was gone, Charis turned to Tal. “Ambassador Shyrn was hiding something, wasn’t he?”

“Absolutely.” His voice sounded subdued.

She paused. “Are you all right?”

He squared his shoulders. “Yes, Your Highness. I was just picturing fire burning my city. I’d always thought I’d have something to one day come home to.”

She stepped close and laid a hand on his arm. “You will have something to come home to. I will figure out a way to end this war and rebuild the north. I swear it.”

King Alaric Penbyrn had his answer to the atrocities in Irridusk, and to any notion that killing Queen Letha would make Calera an easier prize to conquer. Now she simply needed enough leverage to bring him to the table to discuss peace.

Eighteen

“HOLD STILL, PLEASE,” the seamstress said for what seemed like the hundredth time in an hour.

Charis bared her teeth in the closest thing to a smile she was capable of after holding still for most of the morning while Merryl and her staff circled her, pins in their mouths, measuring tapes slung over their shoulders and wide swaths of sea-blue silk in their hands. If Charis had known being fitted for Merryl’s new dress design was going to be so tedious, she’d have found someone in the servants’ quarters who was her approximate size and sent that hapless girl in her stead.

She could have been pressuring Lady Shawling for another sizable donation to refugee relief. Brainstorming with Mother for ways to end the war without relying on Rullenvor and the Rakuuna. Discussing Mother’s prognosis with Baust after yet another setback in her recovery, this time caused by a bout of pneumonia, though Mother had improved enough to insist that she was going to attend the upcoming ball. Sparring with Tal and practicing the seven rathmas, which he made look disgustingly easy, but which were, much to Charis’s chagrin, incredibly hard to master.

Tal was in the shop with her, standing just outside the door of the large fitting room. It had been nearly two months since he’d become her bodyguard, and they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. He brought her breakfast each morning. They sparred, and he did his best to teach her to combine dance and swordsmanship. Then they moved through each day together, his silent presence the shadow at her back, until they returned to her chambers, either to get her ready for an evening event or to spend the night in, discussing the day, the war, or whatever topic took their fancy.

She would have given a lot to be able to talk freely to him right now, but Merryl and her two assistants were never out of earshot as they measured the princess for a gown to wear to the ball that would honor the trade delegates from Solvang, Rullenvor, and Thallis, who were due to arrive in another three days.

Charis had to look and act every inch the capable princess at that ball. It was crucial that she and Mother inspire confidence and a willingness to continue partnering with Calera in trade, despite the loss of a few merchant vessels in the northern sea. Without those trade relationships, there would continue to be shortages in medical supplies, and there would be no metal for new weapons. The war would be lost for certain if trading ceased.

She’d be a fool not to assume Montevallo’s spies had already reported the importance of these negotiations to their king, which meant it was also crucial that Charis arrived at the ball ready for a fight.

“Make sure to leave room for my weapons,” she said as one of Merryl’s assistants circled her waist with a measuring tape. “And give me a way to reach them quickly.”

The assistant glanced at Merryl as if to see whether the princess’s order should be obeyed, but Charis didn’t give the older woman a chance to respond. Leaning forward, she locked eyes with the assistant and said, “Either this dress accommodates my weapons, or I will go elsewhere.”

The assistant nodded quickly and slid back a step. Charis stretched her neck, feeling the muscles pull after standing still for so long. Honestly, how many measurements were needed for this? It was just a dress.

She closed her eyes as Merryl began pinning swaths of fabric across her shoulders. Her mother’s warnings echoed in her head, and she reined in her discontent.

It wasn’t just a dress. It was another weapon in her arsenal. A message that Calera still held on to some of their wealth, even though the Montevallians had tried so hard to ruin them. That the princess was powerful, confident, and bold. That Calera was both a force to be reckoned with and a worthy ally.

Less than an hour later, Charis was free. She stepped out of the fitting room to find Tal standing beside the door, looking as alert as ever.

“Don’t you ever get tired of standing around waiting for me?” she asked as they moved toward the front of the shop.

He shrugged. “I could see out the front windows, and it’s a busy street, so it was entertaining enough. Though not nearly as entertaining as listening to you try to hold your temper for three hours of fabric pinning and measurements.”

She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Reuben and Elsbet stood just outside the shop door. Elsbet hurried to open it as Charis approached. “Your Highness,” she said with a bow.

“Thank you, Elsbet.”

The afternoon was steeped in pale sunshine and the light, crisp scent of the sea. Charis lifted her face to the sky and drew in a slow, deep breath as Elsbet whistled for the royal coachman to bring the carriage around, and Reuben took up his position at Charis’s left.

People bustled along the sidewalks, hurrying from one shop to another, their conversations humming through the air beneath the distant crash of the waves and the occasional piercing cry of a sea hawk. Wagons moved down the street, loaded with wares as farmers and merchants made their deliveries.

Several people close to Merryl’s shop noticed the princess standing on the sidewalk and rushed to curtsy or bow. Charis inclined her head graciously and motioned for them to rise and go about their business.

“The carriage is approaching,” Reuben said.

A trio of farmers in homespun peasant clothing walked behind her as she stepped toward the street. The carriage rolled to a stop. Elsbet moved forward to open the door, and then a shout echoed from a rooftop behind her.

---