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Chapter42
KALLIE
He’s manipulating you.
They were the words Kallie had fallen asleep to, the words she had woken up to, and the words that repeated in her mind as the group of women babbled about tomorrow’s hunt. She should have been focusing on conversing with the women of Frenzia, making friends and allies in her new kingdom. However, Kallie was too fixed on her encounter with the man she wished she could forget.
Had Graeson gone completely mad? She was the one who manipulated minds.Shewas the one who could distort reality and make demands of whomever she wished. Domitius couldn’t do that.
Her father manipulating her? A preposterous claim.
Had Domitius tested her? Yes, but only to see where her loyalties lay. Had her father pushed her limits? Of course. How else would he have discovered Kallie’s weaknesses and fixed them? Everything Domitius did was for the betterment of Vaneria. Everything he put her through was to make sure Kallie was ready for anything that came her way, to make sure she was prepared to rule.
Because that’s what fathers did. They pushed, they challenged.
They did not manipulate.
Her nose twitched.
Clink. Clink.
Kallie’s nails dug into her palm at the incessant, high-pitched noise of Tessa’s spoon hitting the porcelain cup as she stirred her tea. Every minute, Tessa would follow the same pattern while she listened to the prattles of the other women:stir, clink, slurp.Only to pick up the golden spoon not even a minute later and repeat the cycle.
Clink.Slurp.Tink.
Kallie ground her teeth together, her head pounding from the pressure. While the men prepared for the hunt, sharpening their arrows and polishing their boots, Kallie was forced to sip tea, eat pastries, and gossip on the patio. Hearing the seamstress’ voice in the back of her mind, Kallie took a small bite of the cinnamon pastry on her plate. It disintegrated to ash in her mouth.
“Princess Kalisandre?”
Shaking the intrusive thought of smashing the porcelain cup onto the floor, Kallie dragged her attention to the woman sitting across from her at the table.
As one of the prominent ladies of Frenzia and a seemingly close confidant of Tessa, Resenia visited the castle often. Her brilliant gold jewelry on her neck and wrists brought out the warmth in her brown skin and complimented her magenta dress.
“I beg your pardon?” Kallie asked.
Resenia cocked her head to the side and raised a brow in question. The thin, gold-rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose rose at the movement. “I asked if you were looking forward to tomorrow’s hunt?”
Kallie smiled. “Of course. I cannot wait to see what the men bring home for us all.”
One of the young ladies—Jocelin, Kallie recalled—coughed, spewing her tea onto the table. In her haste to grab a napkin, Jocelin knocked over the creamer, and the two women beside her jumped back in their seats, shaking the table.
Kallie cocked a brow, and the young woman’s eyes widened.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Jocelin said, patting her lips with a napkin, her cheeks reddening. “I meant no offense.”
Kallie took a sip of her tea. “Is there something I should be offended by, Jocelin?”
“Oh, uhm.” The young woman looked around the table with a wary gaze. She began patting her dress with the napkin frantically. “It’s just—” Jocelin cleared her throat, “has anyone told you about the hunt, Your Highness?”
“What do you mean?”
The woman opened her mouth, but Tessa interrupted, “Jocelin, perhaps you should go clean yourself up instead of talking Kalisandre’s ear off?”
The tips of Jocelin’s ear reddened as she winced. Standing, her knees banged against the table, and her teacup tipped over.
“Oh!” she shouted as tea soaked the tablecloth, the white fabric darkening as the liquid stained it.
“Jocelin,” Tessa hissed.
