Two
UNLIKE THE GENTLE, rolling hills and large fields that graced eastern Calera, Solvang’s shoreline was a long strip of golden sand bordered by thick dunes that backed up to forested cliffs of rugged rock. Roads of pale crushed stone wound their way through the trees and into the capital city of Ooverstaad, where the streets were lined with tall, narrow buildings in dark cranberry, navy, or gray. Every few blocks, a well-tended park with benches, fountains, and swings for the children stood safely ensconced behind an iron fence. Ribbons of fog threaded their way through the city.
Ooverstaad was the picture of elegance, peace, and prosperity. Was it prosperous enough that the rulers wouldn’t balk at helping Charis, though she had no way to pay her debts? Charis could promise to repay them in Montevallian jewels once she’d married Prince Vahn, but there were a lot of uncertainties lying between Charis and safely reaching the court at Montevallo. She would be asking the Solvanish rulers to extend their assistance purely on the hope that she could overcome every hurdle in front of her.
Which meant Charis had to exude unwavering confidence and strength for the entirety of her time in the Solvanish palace.
“Remember that bakery?” Nalani leaned across Holland to point out the window of the carriage the royal family had sent for Charis once they’d learned of her arrival at port. “Best duvacca in the city.”
“What’s duvacca?” Delaire asked, her wide brown eyes taking in the sights. She’d been a member of the nobility in Calera, forever mooning over an irritable Holland, but three weeks of sailing had given her calluses on her fingers, a sunburned nose, and an ability to help with most tasks onboard the boat without losing her considerable patience. The fact that the crew’s morale had remained steady was almost entirely due to Delaire’s sunny disposition and consistent kindness.
“It’s a puffy square of layered pastry with chocolate and berries inside.” Nalani bounced on the seat as they turned a corner. “There’s the Royal Library! Those stained-glass windows depict scenes from Solvanish fairy tales. The library has the best selection of children’s books. Remember, Holland? Great-aunt Estr used to take us there when we’d visit Father’s side of the family. Most of them live farther inland, but she lives here in the capital.”
“I liked the library’s section on combat.” Holland crossed his ankles and glanced at the passing buildings as the carriage sped toward the eastern ridge where the palace overlooked the city streets. His shoulder-length black hair looked windswept, and his already battered duster was definitely the worse for wear after weeks at sea.
“Why is the Royal Library not in the palace itself?” Delaire asked as she smoothed her curly black hair away from her face with a scarf she’d folded down to ribbon width.
“Because the Solvanish people value the pursuit of learning above all else. Placing the Royal Library in the center of the city where everyone has equal access to it shows that the royals share that value with their people.” Nalani sounded as though she was reciting a line from one of Tutor Brannigan’s textbooks. Actually, Charis was pretty sure that’s exactly what her cousin was doing.
Charis barely acknowledged the view outside the carriage windows. She was too busy running scenarios in her head. What she would say to gain asylum for the people on the ship. What leverage she might use to get assistance on her trip to the Rakuuna kingdom of Te’ash if, indeed, rescuing Tal was necessary to force King Alaric’s cooperation. If there were any promises she could make that would convince the royals to commit troops to the cause of retaking Calera.
And most of all, what she would do if King Gareth and Queen Vyllanthra refused to help at all.
As the carriage turned up the long, tree-lined drive that led to the palace, Nalani leaned over Holland and patted Charis’s knee.
“Don’t worry. The king is known to be generous. He’ll help us.”
“Generous enough to send his army to help free Calera?” Charis rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension in her neck.
Holland snorted. “Not sure any ruler is going to be generous enough to send their soldiers to certain death.”
“Honestly, just once, would you think before you speak?” Nalani glared at her twin while Delaire wrung her hands in distress.
“Holland’s right.” Charis sat up straight as the carriage slowed.
“No need to sound surprised.” Holland uncrossed his feet.
Nalani sighed.
“But...” Delaire looked between Charis and Holland. “If he’s right, then how are we ever going to go home?”
Charis met Delaire’s eyes and forced every ounce of confidence she could muster into her voice. “Just because we can’t see a path toward victory, doesn’t mean one isn’t there. We’ll get help for our people.”
“How are we going to do that when no one is going to want to go against the Rakuuna? I mean, besides Alaric, who will no doubt rejoice when we return his traitor of a son with all his limbs still attached.” Holland sounded eager to hear her plan so he could do his part.
“One step at a time.” Her stomach clenched as they neared the palace. She had no idea how to make the dangerous mission to retake her kingdom sound like a smart, strategic decision to any ruler but King Alaric of Montevallo, who’d already spent years sacrificing his soldiers in a bloody war with Calera so that he could have port access and a son on the throne. He wouldn’t flinch at the chance to keep those hard-won prizes as long as Charis knew how to defeat the Rakuuna. Plus, she could use Tal’s safety as leverage to sweeten the deal.
But why would any other ruler commit troops to her cause?
The carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman opened the door with a small bow. Charis exited first, moving as though she wore one of her gowns instead of the clean, but wrinkled, sparring clothes she’d worn during their escape from Calera. A dress didn’t make one a queen. It was all in the attitude, in knowing down to one’s very bones that the weight of the crown on your head was yours and yours alone.
Gazing up at the palace, Charis lifted her chin and smoothed her expression into one of icy calm, just like Mother had taught her. The palace was built of navy-and-white marble, threaded through with bands of silver that glittered in the sun. A pair of silver statues flanked the wide stairs that led to the entrance.
Reuben, Orayn, and Finn climbed down from the bench at the back of the carriage. Orayn and Finn took up their posts on either side of Holland and Nalani, while Reuben stepped to Charis’s side, his gaze sweeping the area for threats.
Charis moved up the stairs, feeling grateful that she’d skipped breakfast as her empty stomach churned. Every expression, every word from this moment on had to be perfect. The fate of her people depended on it.
King Gareth and Queen Vyllanthra were waiting in an elegant parlor just inside the palace entrance. A page wearing a dark red uniform with silver accents opened the parlor door and announced, “Her Majesty, Queen Charis Willowthorn of Calera.”
Charis entered, Reuben on her heels, and paused in front of the king and queen, who were standing shoulder to shoulder in the center of an ivory rug that appeared to have tiny replicas of their royal coat of arms embroidered across its surface. A queen did not curtsy to another ruler, so Charis allowed her lips to curve into a genuine smile.
“Your Majesty.” King Gareth stepped forward first, his arms outstretched. His wide girth was encased in a shiny navy tunic with long braids of silver rope looped across his chest and then wrapped around his waist, their knotted ends dangling near his knees. Like Vyllanthra, he had golden skin and black hair. He gripped her forearms gently, his dark eyes sympathetic. “We welcome you to Solvang and hope to provide some comfort and aid during this distressing time.”
Of course, they already knew about the invasion. There were plenty of Caleran families who could trace some of their ancestry back to Solvang, and vice versa. Pallorens carrying the news must have been sent to Solvang within hours of the Rakuuna overtaking the palace.
“Welcome, Your Majesty.” Vyllanthra, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with a strikingly handsome face and strands of pure white threading her black hair, squeezed Charis’s hands. “I was hoping the news out of Calera wasn’t as dire as we’ve been hearing, but your new title tells me otherwise.”
“Your Majesties.” Charis returned Vyllanthra’s squeeze and then let go. She might not be arriving from a position of strength, but she could avoid the weakness of appearing to need their sympathy.
Sympathy wouldn’t bring back anyone Charis had lost. It might, however, grease the wheels of Gareth’s famed generosity.
Reconsidering her strategy, Charis allowed herself to draw in a visibly shaky breath before saying, “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but here is the truth. Rakuuna from the kingdom of Te’ash allied themselves with Rullenvor, attacked our ships and sealed off our harbor, and then invaded during our Sister Moons Festival.”
The next breath wasn’t meant to be shaky, but it trembled just the same. “In the invasion, both the queen and the king consort were lost.”
Lost. As though her parents were something she’d misplaced. Something she could find again if she just looked hard enough.
“My dear, come. Sit. Let’s see what we can do to help those who were able to escape.” Gareth swept his arm toward the pair of red velvet couches that sat opposite each other in front of a window overlooking the palace’s tidy courtyard. “Our staff will see to the comfort of your companions while we talk.”
Charis kept her expression calm even as her thoughts raced. He’d offered help to those who were able to escape. That wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was a clear message that Solvang did not intend to interfere with Calera’s fate.
Somehow she had to change their minds.
Charis sat on the sofa to the right. Gareth and Vyllanthra sat opposite her. A parlor maid entered with a tea cart, and Charis’s stomach pitched uneasily as the smell of fillevun tea, buttery pastries, and pickled onion sandwiches filled the air. Once the maid had poured three cups and set the food on the low wooden table between the sofas, she backed out of the room.
Vyllanthra reached for her tea while Gareth took a hearty bite out of a savory biscuit. They were giving Charis permission to help herself to the food, but she knew better than to try swallowing anything of consequence. Not with her stomach in knots. And not when grief felt like a stone permanently lodged in the back of her throat. Instead, she took a delicate sip of the floral tea.
“How many were able to escape?” Vyllanthra asked as she set down her cup and folded her hands in her lap.
“Sixty-three.” Charis set her own cup down.
“So few?” Gareth pressed a hand to his chest, the large ruby ring on his middle finger glittering in the rays of sun streaming in through the window.
“Most of them are merchants or tradespeople.” Charis kept her voice even, though the horror of leaving thousands behind, trapped under the vicious rule of the Rakuuna, was an ever-present pain she couldn’t get used to, no matter how much time passed. “We have a few families. Some of the palace staff and a handful of sailors. And then myself and the three members of the nobility who came with me today.”
“You’ve all suffered a great tragedy.” Vyllanthra leaned forward, and behind the sympathy in her gaze, Charis caught a hint of worry. “We’ve struggled to understand why Rullenvor and Te’ash, whom our master scholars assure us haven’t been seen in the southern seas for over one hundred years, would ally themselves against an agricultural kingdom like Calera.”
Charis heard the question embedded in the queen’s statement. What had Calera done to bring this calamity upon themselves, and how could Solvang be sure they weren’t next?
The answer was complicated, and Charis had to be careful how she framed it. She couldn’t afford to be turned away from Solvang in a tiny smuggler’s ship with few provisions and even fewer options.
Holding herself still to keep from giving too much away, Charis said, “It all seems to come down to Montevallo.”
Gareth’s eyes widened as he brushed crumbs from his tunic. “Montevallo is behind this? I thought you’d signed a treaty.”
Charis nodded. “We have a treaty in place. King Alaric and I are allies.” She hoped.
“Then what has Montevallo to do with the invasion?” Vyllanthra watched Charis closely.
People were more likely to trust someone whose body language matched theirs, so Charis folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, like Vyllanthra. “Rullenvor made an alliance with the Rakuuna, ostensibly to have more protection for their ships in the northern seas.
“At some point, the Rakuuna began sinking any naval or merchant ship that tried to enter or leave our harbor. We didn’t realize it was them at the time, of course.” Charis flinched inwardly at the memory of standing on the deck of the smuggler’s boat at night, practicing the seven rathmas with Tal’s warm hand pressed to the center of her back as he adjusted her position while they quietly hunted the waters for the enemy who was attacking Calera’s ships. Tal didn’t deserve the flurry of desire that the memory of his hand caused, nor did he deserve the ache of misery that followed.
Shoving that thought away, Charis focused on the royals opposite her. “When they thought they had us at a true disadvantage, Rullenvor sent their ambassador with an offer. They’d colluded with Lady Channing, a member of our royal council, to make the proposed alliance seem more trustworthy than it was. In exchange for protection at sea and help defeating Montevallo’s army, they wanted us to allow both the Rakuuna and Rullenvor a place to set up an encampment and to grant them safe passage to Montevallo so they could mine for jewels.”
Vyllanthra frowned. “An encampment for how long? How many troops?”
“I appreciate your immediate grasp of our misgivings. It is one thing to offer amnesty to people in need”—something Charis dearly hoped Solvang would extend to her people—“but it is quite another to welcome a military encampment. Especially one that would be difficult to defend against should that prove necessary.”
“And all this because they wanted jewels from Montevallo?” Gareth dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “What need could Rullenvor or the Rakuuna possibly have for so many jewels that it was worth sinking ships and offering to fight Montevallo with you?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that we achieved peace with Montevallo through a treaty of our own design, turned down Rullenvor’s offer, and within days of that refusal, the Rakuuna invaded.”
“So they’re using your kingdom as a staging ground to go after Montevallo?” Vyllanthra tapped a finger on her lips. “Does that mean when they’ve gained the jewels they want, they’ll leave?”
“It’s possible, though I hesitate to put much faith in that assumption.” Charis met the queen’s gaze as the answer she’d been hunting for fell into her lap—the one thing that might scare her allies enough to make them promise to help her reclaim Calera. It was time to show Gareth and Vyllanthra the picture Charis needed them to see.
“Prince Vahn of Montevallo sent a palloren to the Rakuuna’s armada with a promise to pay them any number of jewels they required in exchange for leaving Calera’s harbor for good. Days later, the Rakuuna attacked us. They went straight for Mother—for the queen.” Charis swallowed hard, but the stone in her throat refused to budge.
“They intended to kill the royal family and put themselves in charge immediately. Despite being offered what they said they wanted.” Gareth shot a look at Vyllanthra.
“I believe they’d already done the same in Rullenvor. No one has heard from the High Emperor in some time, and Rullenvor’s ambassador was arguing for the Rakuuna’s interest, not for those of his own kingdom. I believe that the Rakuuna rule Rullenvor now, just like they rule Calera.” Charis let the words sink in, fraught with dangerous implications for the safety of Solvang and the rest of the sea kingdoms.
“They’re colonizing.” Vyllanthra and Gareth seemed to share an unspoken conversation.
The memory of being so connected to Tal that she could read his mind from across a crowded room cut deep, but Charis ignored it. Locking eyes with Gareth and Vyllanthra, she spoke with vicious confidence.
“If the Rakuuna had only wanted jewels, they could have had their fill. They could have reached out to us for safe passage to negotiate directly with King Alaric instead of involving Rullenvor. As you know, we’ve long had a policy of providing protection to the ambassadors of our allies as they travel to the Montevallian border so they can assume their posts in Alaric’s court.” Charis’s voice was cold as she went for the kill. “They could have left the High Emperor of Rullenvor alive. They could have left my parents alive. They didn’t. They’ve now taken two of the seven sea kingdoms by force, and it’s clear they mean to go after Montevallo as well. How long before they go after yet another kingdom on the map?”
Silence filled the room, broken only by the tick-tick-tick of a clock on the mantel behind Charis. Finally, Gareth and Vyllanthra seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. Turning to face Charis, Gareth said solemnly, “Tell us what you need.”