Three
“THIS IS A waste of time. I’d rather just sail straight to the Rakuuna kingdom and force them to tell us how to kill them than spend another day searching through old books for the solution.” Holland paused to let Charis leave the Royal Library ahead of him.
In the fourteen days since their arrival in Solvang, a band of pressure had wrapped itself around Charis’s chest and refused to leave. At Holland’s words, the band squeezed a little tighter.
Most of the Calerans were staying in an older building that had been hastily converted into refugee apartments. As nobility, Charis, Holland, Nalani, and Delaire were housed in the palace with access to the city’s palloren hub and a carriage at their disposal.
While Nalani and Delaire helped the refugees settle in, Charis and Holland had spent nearly every day studying the library’s vast resources—scrolls, books, even the official diaries of ancient Solvanish royals—looking for the key to the Rakuuna’s demise. They’d found almost nothing. There were few mentions of the reclusive species, and even fewer details beyond what Charis already knew: they were faster, stronger, and far more powerful than humans, and only a fool would go up against them in a fight.
The rulers of Solvang, Thallis, and Verace agreed.
Gareth and Vyllanthra had made it clear they would only commit troops to Charis’s cause if she knew how to kill the Rakuuna. The messages she’d sent to Thallis and Verace had received similar answers. She’d sent a palloren to King Alaric of Montevallo as well but had yet to receive a reply, which made sense given how far Montevallo was from Solvang.
Still, the tension of not knowing if Alaric would honor the treaty ate at her composure until it thinned and frayed.
A pair of Solvanish guards left the library first, followed immediately by Reuben and then Charis. A second pair exited on Holland’s heels, and the entire group moved quickly toward the carriage waiting at the curb.
Tendrils of fog snaked through the streets, clinging to rooftops and drifting through the gray afternoon sky like shreds of spun sugar. Charis was getting used to the frequent bouts of fog that blanketed the Solvanish coastline this time of year, but the inability to see more than a few carriage lengths in any direction never failed to unsettle her.
She stalked toward her carriage, the skin on the back of her neck prickling.
There were no assassins here waiting to kill her. No traitors standing by her side wearing the face of a friend. And still, every time she left a building, it took all her willpower not to flinch.
“This is getting us nowhere.” Holland moved to her side. “Now that King Gareth has given us a map of the entire northern sea, we could just sail to Te’ash and—”
“Demand they tell us how to kill them?” Charis snapped as a footman opened the carriage door and bowed.
“You sound angry.” Holland settled beside Charis on the slick black leather seat, while Reuben sat opposite them, his narrowed eyes examining the street beyond the carriage window, hunting for threats through the curtain of fog.
“Where to next, Your Majesty?” The coachmistress, a woman with silvery hair and deep creases in the corners of her eyes, stood at the doorway, her navy cap in her hands.
“Lady Estr’s home, please.” Charis made herself give the woman a tiny smile, her lips moving stiffly into the unfamiliar position.
There’d been precious little to smile about since the night of the invasion, and forcing a kind expression onto her face right now felt as natural as breathing water, but she couldn’t aim her fury and despair at the Solvanish people.
As the carriage lurched into motion, Holland said, “If you keep tensing your jaw like that, you’ll break your teeth.”
She glared, and he shrugged. “Fine. Break your teeth. Good thing you like soup.”
Shaking her head, she turned to look out the window as a patch of fog thinned enough to reveal elegant shops with neatly manicured flower boxes and tall, narrow doors. Her lungs ached with every breath.
How was she supposed to save her people and avenge her kingdom if she couldn’t kill the invaders who’d taken her throne? She was trapped here, living off the generosity of the Solvanish royals, making promises she’d never be able to keep. A queen who didn’t deserve her crown.
Her heart thudded frantically against her chest, and her head spun as the air in her lungs seemed to disappear.
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t hold her people together, negotiate with allies, rescue Tal so she could leverage him against Alaric and take back her kingdom by force all while pretending she wasn’t collapsing from the inside out.
A line of pine trees outside the window wavered as Charis’s vision blurred. Clenching her fists in her skirt, she forced herself to breathe.
If Tal had been there, he’d have knelt at her feet, gathered her fists in his callused fingers, and ordered her to do something like count to ten or answer some silly question that distracted her long enough to let her body settle a bit.
Of course, if Tal had been there, she’d have been honor bound to run him through with a sword for being a traitor. The grief in her heart swelled, spilling heaviness into her veins until it felt as though she was made of stone.
Curse Tal for a thousand generations. The thought of giving him the death he deserved shouldn’t hurt.
Her vision cleared as the carriage climbed a steep hill, the view outside her window swallowed whole by a thick blanket of white. Apparently, even just the memory of Tal interrupting her panic was enough to give her the brief distraction she needed to begin mastering her fear.
She cursed him again for good measure, even as her thoughts slowed and the deadly chess match she waged with her enemies once again came into focus.
There was a solution. There was always a solution. If she couldn’t find it, that simply meant she wasn’t looking in the right direction. She needed to step back and see the entire game board before she made her next move.
She could do this. Somehow. She had to.
“I meant what I said about relaxing your jaw,” Holland said as the carriage turned a corner and slowed. “And maybe fix your face. You look like you want to kill the next person you see.”
She blinked, reining in her thoughts as she turned to her cousin. Their eyes met, and a frown furrowed his brow.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Holland cocked his head to study her.
Charis lifted her chin.
“I’m right.” He shifted in his seat as the vehicle came to a stop. Reuben grabbed the hilt of his sword and faced the door, his expression unreadable, though Charis knew he was listening carefully to every word.
If ever there was a time for Holland to not speak every thought he had, this was it. Not that Charis didn’t trust Reuben. She could grudgingly admit that while she often loathed his methods and would never forgive him for killing her handmaiden Milla on Mother’s orders, he’d proven himself absolutely loyal to Charis since the moment she became Calera’s ruler.
Still, a queen must not show weakness. The moment she behaved like prey instead of the predator she’d been raised to be, someone would be waiting to bring her down. Everyone either wanted to take her power or use it for themselves. Mother had repeatedly told her that, but it was Tal’s betrayal that had truly carved the lesson into her heart.
“I am many things, but scared isn’t one of them.” Charis’s voice was steely.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Well, since you’re the queen, I’m not supposed to argue. However—”
“Be careful how you finish that sentence.” Charis met his eyes, sighing inwardly at the lazy way he arched one eyebrow as though not at all deterred by her threats. “What I really need from you right now is help navigating Solvanish polite society.”
“And you think I’m the right person for that?”
“Nalani is busy, which makes you the only person in this carriage whose family are Solvanish nobility, so yes, I’m counting on you to help me through this.”
“The last thing I want to do is eat tiny morsels of fancy food and pretend to listen to people I don’t care about. I’m not even getting out of the carriage,” he said with absolute conviction.
“Oh, yes you are. Your queen orders it.” She took some pleasure in the expression of murderous defeat on his face. “Besides, it’s your great-aunt Estr’s tea party. If anything, you should be more comfortable here than most other places in Solvang.”
“You’re only saying that because you haven’t met Great-Aunt Estr.”
The footman opened the door, and Reuben exited, blocking the doorway with his body while he searched the courtyard for any danger to the queen and her heir. Not that it would be easy to see a threat through the fog that obscured all but the hazy glow of the lamplights burning on Lady Estr’s porch.
Charis crossed the distance between the carriage and the porch in rapid strides, the copper tea gown her Solvanish seamstress had finished for her that morning whipping around her ankles.
“Your Majesty.” A tiny woman who barely reached Charis’s shoulders inclined her head respectfully and then studied Charis’s face with sparkling eyes so dark brown, they looked nearly black. “Welcome. I see you’ve brought my rogue of a great-nephew with you.”
“Thank you.” Charis stepped across the threshold, grateful for the warmth of the fire burning in the gracious front parlor. “I promise your great-nephew will be on his best behavior.”
“Oh, I hope not.” Lady Estr winked at Holland. “What a boring afternoon we’d all have if that was the case.”
The butler reached to remove Holland’s duster, and Holland batted at his hand. “I’ll keep my coat. I’m not staying long. Besides”—he turned to his great-aunt—“I doubt your friends would approve of me wandering your parlor with a sword in plain view.”
“Given the threat your queen’s presence has brought to us all, I think a sword would be quite welcome.” Lady Estr tapped his arm none too gently. “Now, give Welsin your coat and go be sociable for at least ten minutes.”
Charis schooled her face to conceal her racing thoughts.
If Lady Estr had no problem possibly offending Charis with her words, how many other members of the Solvanish nobility were whispering behind Charis’s back? If too many of them felt unsafe, the warm welcome Gareth and Vyllanthra had extended could just as quickly turn cold.
Where would she take her people if Solvang turned them away?
The pressure in her chest sent a spike of pain into her jaw.
“Hmm, I’d wondered how much of your mother you had in you. Turns out, you have quite a bit.” Lady Estr peered up at Charis, her expression open and direct.
Charis drew in a slow breath and then said quietly, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Lady Estr snorted none-too-delicately. “You heard me say that you’ve brought danger to our people. I know you’ve already calculated how much influence I have with my sovereigns, or you wouldn’t have taken time out of your busy schedule to accept my invitation when you’ve turned down so many others.”
The door opened behind Charis, and a gust of damp, chilly air swept the parlor as new guests arrived.
Lady Estr waved impatiently at the newcomers. “Yes, yes, you’ll be introduced to the queen in a minute. Go have some tea and try not to look gobsmacked while you’re at it.”
As the new arrivals brushed past Charis and into the tearoom, Lady Estr said, “I’m sure you started thinking about options the instant you heard me speak. But your face!” She gestured once more at Charis. “Just like your mother. Ice wouldn’t melt on that one, no matter what was happening around her. It’s good you have her self-control. Let’s hope you have her brains as well.”
Charis took a moment to assess Lady Estr once more. Sharp intelligence gleamed in her eyes, but there was no malice. No anger. Nothing sly or sinister.
A real smile lifted Charis’s lips. “I see where Holland gets his... forthrightness.”
“Thank you. Now, I’ll do you the courtesy of being straightforward.”
Lady Estr’s voice lowered as a man in a deep-purple tea jacket and a pale violet scarf leaned against the tearoom door, glancing their way even as he spoke to someone still within the room. Flapping her hand at the man in the doorway, she said, “She’ll be along when she’s ready.”
The man disappeared back into the tearoom. Lady Estr turned back to Charis. “The king and queen met with their advisors this morning. We have reason to believe pallorens sent to Calera are being intercepted by the Rakuuna.”
A shiver crept up Charis’s spine, but she held herself still and waited for Lady Estr to finish.
“As you know, all pallorens sent from Solvang must go through the royal hub, where officers of the crown make sure no message compromises our kingdom’s security. However, your people use your own pallorens, and therein lies the threat.” Lady Estr’s eyes narrowed as she studied Charis. “The king and queen planned to inform you of this new development immediately, of course, but as you were scheduled to be here today, I volunteered to be the messenger. Be careful what your people are saying. It’s one thing for the Rakuuna to ignore a small group of Calerans living in Solvang. It’s quite another for them to discover you plan to wage war against them.”
Charis nodded, her mind racing. “Thank you for that warning. Beyond checking in with family members to let them know we’re safe, my people haven’t said a word about my intentions.”
Or had they? She’d certainly ordered them to keep quiet about her plans. Furthermore, she’d made sure several messages had contained the news that she’d sailed on from Solvang, though the refugees weren’t sure where she was headed. It was the best she could do to assure the safety of both her people and those in Solvang, in case the Rakuuna decided their agreement with Tal to leave Charis unharmed was no longer valid.
“Better make sure it stays that way. The royal hub received word this morning that the Rakuuna queen has offered a generous reward to anyone who tells her where to find you.” Lady Estr’s short finger stabbed the air as she pointed to Charis. “Best hope every single member of the group you brought with you is absolutely loyal, or you’ll have just invited the monsters to come fetch you back home.”