Page 22 of Rise of the Vicious Princess

There were committee meetings to chair, tutoring sessions with Holland and Nalani, royal council sessions where she levied sanctions against the four families who hadn’t paid their taxes and worked to find an acceptable response to Montevallo’s actions, visits to struggling merchants to help spread the word that the princess herself shopped there, christenings of new buildings, the launching of the latest naval vessel, military parade reviews to observe, refugee assistance to oversee, horse races to bet on, ballet or theater performances to view, and a host of teas, dinners, or other social visits that quickly cluttered up her calendar.

She barely ate. Barely slept. Her clothes needed to be taken in at the waist, and her fingers shook when she hefted her sword, but she refused to slow down.

The latest group of injured soldiers had returned from the warfront the previous day, among them the daughter of the palace weapons master. He’d left his post to nurse her back to health, and while Charis sincerely wished them both well, his absence left a gaping hole in her morning schedule. A hole she desperately needed to fill with something other than sitting in her little parlor ignoring both breakfast and the ache of Milla’s absence.

Sinking into a plush chair in her parlor, she tapped her fingers on the small marble table in front of her while she ran through her options. She could call Darold up early for their morning meeting, but it wasn’t fair to deny him his breakfast. She might get an early start on the essay her tutor had assigned the previous day, but that would require concentration, and it was hard to focus when she hadn’t yet had any physical exercise.

Maybe she would just take a horse and ride the grounds. Visit the lonely bluff overlooking the sea on the far southern edge of the property. If she left now, she could be back before—

“I’ve brought you breakfast, Your Highness.” Tal startled her by placing a tray in front of her. A bowl of creamy porridge sprinkled with ground nuts and spices sat in the center with a sliced nectarine to the left and a steaming cup of tea to the right.

“I didn’t order breakfast. I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are.”

She froze and lifted her gaze to his, all thoughts of her schedule abandoned. “What did you just say?”

He’d been the soul of discretion and polite protocol. She’d gotten used to having his quiet, watchful presence with her wherever she went. She hardly needed her silent guard dog to start voicing opinions.

He looked determined. “You need to eat, Your Highness.”

Her eyes narrowed, but he held her gaze. She didn’t know him well enough to read his expression, but she was absolutely sure he could see the anger in hers.

“I realize you are rather new to working with me, and that Father maintains a more relaxed protocol with his staff, so I will give you this one warning.” Her voice was chilly. “Nobody talks to me like that.”

“I realize that, Your Highness, but maybe someone should.” His voice was as steady as his gaze, but there was a steely hint of stubbornness in it. “I wish it didn’t have to be me, but here we are.”

Her chin rose. “You are perilously close to finding yourself without a job.”

“And you are perilously close to a full breakdown.” He inclined his head and said quietly, “Your Highness, you will either hear this from me, or you will be hearing it from your father, and I think we both want to spare him the worry of seeing you like this.”

She’d drawn a breath to give him a scathing retort, but her words dried up as his hit home. She’d avoided Father for most of the past two weeks on the excuse that she was so busy, though if she was brutally honest with herself, she knew it was because he would see right through her. He’d worry over her weight loss and fuss about her running herself into the ground. His love would shatter the shield she wore, and she would be undone.

Tal, as if sensing that she was softening, bent closer. “I don’t know what to say to you to help you feel better, Your Highness. I don’t think there are words for your loss. But I can bring you food. I can help you clear your schedule so you can get some rest—”

“I don’t want to rest.” The truth left her mouth without permission, and she flinched inwardly.

He crouched beside her. “I know you don’t, but you aren’t going to have a choice soon.”

“I can’t afford to slow down.” She’d meant her voice to be dismissive, but instead it came out weary, wearing pale shades of the grief that lived within.

“You can’t afford not to.”

She looked out the parlor windows as the pale light of dawn warmed into the golden haze of an autumn morning. “I know. My kingdom needs me. My mother expects me to . . . well, she needs me too.”

“They can do without for a few days,” he said flatly.

She glanced at him in surprise.

“What do you need, Your Highness? Besides breakfast.” He looked pointedly at the tray.

No one other than Father and Milla had ever asked her that. She hardly knew what to say, but she knew sharing her innermost thoughts with her bodyguard was a terrible idea. Never mind that he’d seen what was happening to her and had cared enough to intervene. She’d let herself become friends with Milla, and that had been a mistake she was still paying for. She couldn’t afford to let another staff member get close.

He was still patiently watching her as though expecting she would give him the truth. She reached for the first thing she could think of that would give him something to do besides wait for her to unburden her heart while eating breakfast.

“The palace weapons master has taken a leave of absence to care for his daughter, which leaves me with no one to spar with in the mornings. I need a replacement for him.” She turned away, satisfied that he would at least leave the parlor to—

“Done.”

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