Page 18 of The War Queen's Daughter

No, but in my way, and that’s enough for me.

Then, Vae’s voice, clear and bright, speaks again. “My dear Remalla, we’re all just desperate to know how it’s taken you this long to join us.”

I’m sure she is. “I was winning a war,” I say.

Her eyes narrow, but her tone doesn’t change. “How…interesting. And isn’t it funny how you can be so very brave,killing peasants and stealing others’ land, but fumble so badly when among your betters.”

Someone giggles, a startled sound that stifles almost immediately.

Altar looks up finally, frowning at Vae. “What did you say?”

She blinks innocently. “Just that the heir of Heald is struggling, my Overprince,” she says. “In fact, she confessed to me just a short time ago that she’s out of place here. That she doesn’t understand court in the least, that she doesn’t fit in here. A clumsy bull in a flower garden, wasn’t it, Remalla?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I counter. “Not fitting in here.” I wave the point of my knife at her. “Some of us live our lives out there in the world.” I gesture at the doors. “Rather than small and petty and unkind behind closed doors, where words are the only weapons.”

“Not theonlyweapons,” she snarls back, losing her façade completely.

Altar is visibly startled by this turn of events, no longer distant. “Highnesses,” he chides gently. “The dining room is not a battleground.”

“Not in her world,” Vae says. “But unless you missed it, Overprince, it certainly is in ours.”

I sit back, confidence returned because here I have a foe to fight and it frees me, gives me energy, and near delight. I am far too much my mother, I fear, but it serves me now like never before.

“Delicious,” I say, choosing a particularly oozing slab of roast meat, the dripping blood cascading from it as I pick it up with my fingers and take a bite. I chew slowly, staring her down. “But I think I’m full for tonight. The food’s tasty enough. If only the company were better. Your Overhighness.” I lick my fingers clean and stand, nodding to him. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day.”

He finally notes my dress. I see him take in the gown I wear, the fact I’ve come to dinner in nightwear, and his eyes, rather than showing amusement, turn toward Vae. He knows. He’s watched the machinations of the princesses and he…

Despises them.

Amber. The ambassador was right after all.

But what to do with that information now that it’s been proven true?

One thing is true. My plan to form allegiances, for finding a way to make this situation beneficial, for forging any kind of connection in this terrible place, is over before it can begin. I am trapped, truly, until the Overprince makes his choice. Except I now know he’s not going to, at least any of the women he’s been offered.

I’m cornered. No matter how high I hold my head, how I strut on my way out, it’s the truth. The Overprince must choose someone to free me to leave, but he has no intention of doing the very thing required for my liberation.

Which means my only recourse might be marrying the silly fool in the end.

The irony of that is not lost on me.

Chapter 11

I stalk through the palace corridors well past the turning of the day, each step heavier than the last, my meal weighing on my insides. I’ve changed out of the bronze sleeping dress and into some of my own clothes, though I desperately miss the embrace of familiar leather, feeling exposed in breeches.

My throat is tight, my chest. I need air. I need space. Most of all, I need to escape this beautiful prison I’ve found myself in. Just to make room for the plans I must commit to because either I find a way to convince the Overprince to marry one of the others, or.

I make him choose me.

My walk is cut short by an intrusive voice that I’ve already learned to dislike. “Princess Remalla. A moment, if you please.”

It’s Chancellor Hallick, emerging from the shadows of an ornate archway. He’s out late, or perhaps darkness is his favorite. Has he heard about the disaster of a dinner? Or has ne had me followed for some other reason as yet undisclosed? His smile is thin, his eyes, dark and watchful, shift like a snake’s. The scent of him, all overripe fruit and something rotting, makes my stomach churn.

“Chancellor,” I say, my voice clipped, my patience worn to a thread. He made his point earlier, had he not? Everyone just needs to leave me alone to figure things out.

“My dear princess,” he purrs, stepping closer. “You seem distraught. One must not let the vagaries of courtly life weighso heavily. Especially after a minor setback.” Yes, he’s heard about dinner. His gaze sweeps over me, dismissive. “You are not playing the game well, princess, despite your mother’s teaching. Not at all.”

My jaw tightens. He sees my pain, my humiliation, and twists it into a weapon. “I am a warrior, Chancellor. Not a courtier. And while I am my mother’s daughter, she does not dictate what I do.”

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