Page 16 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Fury crept into her voice. “That must have been a moment of pride for Tal. Father rarely let new staff get close to him, and he was so taken in by Tal that he trusted your traitor of a prince with that which was most precious to him. Me.”

Grim rubbed his palms against his thighs as if scrubbing them clean. Dec folded his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m sure Tal was thrilled to report to King Alaric that he’d managed to deceive not only the king of Calera, but its princess as well. I can only imagine the celebration—”

“He was terrified of you at first,” Grim blurted out, his voice shaking. Charis was surprised to note that the emotion in his words was anger nearly strong enough to match her own.

“Grim,” Dec breathed, but the other boy paid no attention.

Charis leaned forward. “Not nearly terrified enough.”

“You have no idea what it was like for him.” Grim threw the words at her. “He wasn’t happy to be assigned to you, but what choice did he have?”

He’d had plenty of choices. Becoming her friend had been a choice. Kissing her had been a choice. Not telling her the truth had been a choice. He’d been rich with choices, and at every turn, he’d done the wrong thing.

“Your Majesty.” Dec unfolded his arms and clasped his hands in his lap. “Tal should be the one to explain himself to you. We can’t pretend to know everything that happened between the two of you. We know how bad it was for him at home in Montevallo, and we know—”

“How bad could it have been?” Holland sounded genuinely curious. “He was a prince.”

Dec considered Holland in silence for a long moment, and then said evenly, “He was unwanted, unloved by his father—”

“Abused by his father, more like,” Grim muttered.

“Constantly told he was worthless and would never be of value to Montevallo like his older brother and sister were.” Dec continued as if Grim hadn’t spoken. “His older brother adopted the same attitude toward Tal and delighted in making his life miserable. When he was ordered to be a spy, he knew it was his one chance to redeem himself in his father’s eyes.”

“He had nothing to redeem!” Grim’s voice rose. “He was sickly as a child, and that alone made the king decide he wasn’t worthy of being a Penbyrn.”

“Because he was sick?” Nalani asked.

“Growing up, he wasn’t strong enough to be trained for the military, which is all a thirdborn royal is really expected to do in a kingdom constantly at war. Of course, he outgrew that and worked hard to turn himself into a capable warrior, but by then, his father had other plans for him.” Dec met Charis’s gaze again. “That’s what we can tell you about his past. Any explanations about his actions toward you will have to come from him.”

Charis looked away. How could a small part of her battered heart ache at the thought of young Tal, rejected by his father, bullied by his brother, adrift in a society that only valued him if he could contribute to their war with Calera?

He’d done more than contribute. He’d done more than spy. He’d broken through her defenses and left her in ruins.

The carriage slowed as it entered the fringes of Dursley. The stone buildings were shorter than those in the capital and spread loosely along the street, as though the inhabitants who lived and worked here preferred space between themselves and others.

Dec unclasped his hands. “Your Majesty, Grim and I volunteer to ask around for someone from Embre. Even in a cloak, you are unmistakably nobility, as is Lady Farragin”—he nodded respectfully toward Nalani—“and people like these might not want to speak with you.”

“What about me?” Holland demanded.

Dec glanced at him. “No one would take you for nobility—”

“Thank you.”

“Until you open your mouth and display your rather impressive education,” Dec finished.

Holland glared at him. Charis studied Dec and Grim for a moment, but she already knew Dec was right. Sentiment had turned against her in Solvang, and people who felt like outcasts already would hardly be interested in speaking with the refugee queen who’d brought trouble to their shores.

“You have one hour,” Charis said. “Knock on every door. If the information we need is here, we can’t afford to miss it.”

“I can knock on doors,” Holland muttered as the two Montevallians exited the carriage and hurried down the closest street.

Charis, Reuben, and the twins sat in silence for a few moments, watching the Montevallians move from one building to the next, their shoulders hunched against the sharp winter wind that sent watery gray clouds scudding across the sky, momentarily obscuring the midday sun.

Finally, Nalani said softly, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it helps me a little to understand Tal’s childhood.”

“Being picked on as a kid, even by your own family, is no reason to act with dishonor.” Holland gripped his sword hilt until his knuckles turned white.

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