Page 63 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

“You might have run this past the council before sending the palloren.” Lord Thorsby patted his forehead in earnest.

Lady Channing sat back and studied Charis, her expression calm, her body a bastion of absolute stillness amid the chaos around her.

“I won’t stand for this. Not after all they’ve taken.” Lady Ollen turned toward Lord Everly. “You’re upset that your son won’t be on the throne? How tragic for you. My son is dead. Killed in battle. Montevallo has taken more from me than you can imagine.”

“Montevallo has taken from all of us.” Lady Channing’s voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade, and in the breath of silence that followed her words, she said, “Peace is the only option we have left unless we accept help from an ally. We all know it, whether we want to admit it or not. This is an attractive offer for Alaric because we assume all the risk.”

Chaos erupted again, and the queen raised one eyebrow at Charis as if to say, Are you going to allow them to do this? I raised you better than that.

Calling on the ice she wore like armor around her mother, Charis let it fill the aching hollow within. Let it silence the whisper of longing within and flow through her veins until all that was left was Calera’s future queen, forged in fire and bloodshed, trained in manipulation and brutal control so that one day she could do what was necessary to save her people. It couldn’t matter to her that the cost of saving them would be her heart.

“What’s to keep this prince from giving his father the rest of our ports? Our ships? Our people as labor?” Lord Everly gestured wildly.

“We’re inviting a wolf into our sheepfold!” Lady Whitecross was on her feet as well.

“We already have a wolf in our sheepfold.” Charis let the corner of her lips curl into a vicious little smile. “Me.”

The council fell silent. Charis slowly swept the room, holding gazes for as long as it took to force each council member to look away. She was the predator. She was the one they should fear, and she was on their side. If they feared her, how much more would her future husband?

Lord Everly and Lady Whitecross sat down again, and Charis said fiercely, “You ask what will keep this prince from giving his father more than what is offered? I will. You worry that we need a king we can trust, and yet you forget that we don’t need a king at all. Calera has one throne, and it will be mine. We cannot take the war to Montevallo, and so we invite the king’s precious son here under the pretense of peace, but a peace we control. From him, I can learn the secrets of his kingdom. With him, I will be welcomed into the heart of Montevallo, where I will note their weaknesses. And should King Alaric ever cross me”—her smile became a baring of her teeth—“his son will be sent home to him in pieces.”

The queen gave Charis a look of approval and then said, “I can’t imagine that King Alaric won’t be open to negotiating peace with these terms, but in case he isn’t, we must continue to plan for war. To that end, I must let you know that Charis’s published schedule has been altered. It’s unavoidable given the current circumstances. We’ve found that she is often needed in several places at once, and she requires the flexibility to be able to prioritize her engagements.”

Charis schooled her expression into bland indifference even as her pulse raced.

This was new, but Charis was grateful. Now Alaric’s spy network wouldn’t be sure of her whereabouts unless it was a major social event where her presence was a foregone conclusion. It was a measure of safety until Alaric replied to their offer.

Lord Thorsby stuffed his silk handkerchief back into his pocket and frowned. “When will we be apprised of her new schedule?”

“When we have something finalized.”

“This is all very unusual.” He waved a hand between the queen and the princess as if to sum up both the fact that they’d offered a peace treaty to Montevallo without running it past the council and that they’d changed the princess’s official schedule without notice.

“I will remind each of you,” the queen said coldly, “that the Willowthorns do not answer to you. You are here to serve us for as long as it pleases us to have that service. If that arrangement is unsatisfactory to any of you, I welcome your resignation and will have you replaced by morning.”

When no one spoke, the queen said, “This meeting is adjourned. Mind your tongues. If I hear that anything we said in this room has been shared beyond these walls, I will have your head delivered to me in a crate.”

Twenty-Four

“WE’RE SKIPPING TUTORING today and going into town instead,” Charis announced as Holland and Nalani stepped out of their carriage at the palace’s front steps. Hazy late autumn sunlight drifted down through ribbons of fog that lay over the city like a tattered shroud. Charis pulled her black traveling cloak tighter as a crisp breeze tugged at the sensible green dress she wore.

“After I stayed up half the night to finish my essay on Morg’s political system?” Nalani groaned.

“You can leave your homework with Darold.” Charis nodded toward her secretary. Darold stepped forward to collect the assignments.

“Something happen to Brannigan?” Holland asked as he handed a stack of papers to Darold.

“He’s fine.” Charis craned her neck to watch the royal carriage approach, ignoring the restless movements of Reuben and Elsbet, who were scanning the grounds, hunting for a potential threat. Tal stood next to her as usual, but she couldn’t read his expression.

He hadn’t said anything beyond a perfunctory “good night” after they’d returned to her chambers the previous evening, and this morning, he hadn’t appeared until just before they were due to come downstairs. If he was upset that she hadn’t discussed the peace proposal with him, then he was going to have to move past that. Yes, he’d become more than just a bodyguard. And yes, there were distracting moments lately when she’d wanted . . . something . . . from him that couldn’t quite qualify as just friendship. But she was the princess first. Her duty was a cage she couldn’t escape. And she was under no obligation to discuss anything with him at all.

That rationalization refused to rest easily in her thoughts, and so she shoved it away and turned to the twins.

“It’s important that I change my schedule around as often as possible, which means today we skip tutoring and visit the refugee shelter instead.”

“Your Highness, please duck your head and move toward the carriage now,” Reuben said, already placing his arm against Charis’s back, forcing her to bend forward at the waist so that Elsbet, Reuben, and Tal became the most prominent targets for a potential archer.

Charis gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to throw off Reuben’s arm. He was simply doing his job, and truth be told, she’d far rather he take the next arrow instead of her.

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