Five
TEN DAYS HAD passed since the unwelcome news that the Rakuuna were intercepting pallorens and had posted a reward for Charis’s capture, yet Charis was no closer to finding the key to her enemy’s destruction. She’d talked to professors, visited shops in hopes that a merchant might know something, and stared at the sister moons long into the night, hoping inspiration would strike.
Today she was going to the docks to speak with sailors from returning vessels.
“I’ll just be a minute, Your Majesty, and then we’ll have you all sorted for the day.”
Charis sat at the vanity in her suite of rooms and tried to control her impatience as Nita, the handmaid assigned to her, gathered her supplies.
She should’ve already been dressed and downstairs, but she’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, her thoughts racing in fruitless circles while jittery spikes of fear startled her awake every time her eyes closed. She’d finally drifted off as the sky outside her window lightened to a rosy blush, only waking when Nita came in with her breakfast.
“Your Majesty, would you like your hair parted in the middle or to the side?” Nita was a middle-aged woman with firm, competent hands and the devout belief that, despite Charis’s natural curls, proper royals always wore their hair straight.
“A simple updo will be fine,” Charis said, smoothing the skirt of her new navy-blue velvet day dress. A thin silver rope laced up the bodice, and tiny silver ferns were embroidered across the skirt. It was pretty, but Charis was uninterested in wasting time on a complicated hairstyle, no matter how fashionable it might be. The days of needing to send a clear message to her political opponents with her appearance were long gone. Now the only message her opponents needed to receive from her could be delivered with a sword.
Not that a sword was much use against the Rakuuna, but hopefully today’s errand would give Charis another option.
Closing her eyes against the pain of Nita’s firm brush, she focused on what she’d already gained since her arrival in Solvang.
She had an ancient map, painstakingly copied onto a new scroll of parchment over the span of several hours in the library, that showed Te’ash’s location in the dangerous waters above Embre. She had weapons of every description donated by King Gareth, and Holland was happily studying technique and then training her crew how to use each item in the ship’s new armory. She had amnesty for those who’d escaped Calera and a safe place for them to live.
Shifting in her seat, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap to resist the urge to fidget.
“I think perhaps a minucca today, Your Majesty,” Nita said as she yanked another curl through her brush. “With your bone structure, it will look quite fetching.”
Charis couldn’t care less about looking fetching, but she nodded anyway. The faster she agreed to Nita’s suggestions, the faster she would look presentable enough to leave the room.
It all came down to learning the Rakuuna’s weakness so she could leave Solvang before they destroyed her kingdom. It had to be possible to kill them somehow—nothing was immortal.
“Just a moment more, please.” Nita wielded a damp brush and a collection of hairpins like a sculptor determined to turn reluctant clay into whatever she wished. Charis tapped her foot and gripped the sides of the chair to keep herself from squirming.
Her suite was on the east side of the palace. The sun’s rays streamed over the windowsills and puddled on the plush ivory rug in pools of golden light. Hildy slept in a patch of sunlight, her orange-and-black fur looking sleek and warm.
The kitten was her last connection to Father, but she was also a connection to Tal. Every stroke of her back reminded Charis of visiting Father, and every rumbly purr brought her back to her own sitting room, curled up in front of her fire while Tal tucked Hildy into her lap, handed her a mug, and told her to drink the cocoa, pet the kitten, and breathe for a while.
How had he done it? How had he slipped so far past her defenses that he knew what Charis needed before she did?
A knock sounded at her door, and Nalani entered.
“There, Your Majesty. You look a picture.” Nita patted Charis’s hair one last time and stepped back.
Pushing thoughts of the traitor into the darkest corner of her heart, Charis turned to examine the looking glass mounted above the vanity. Her brown curls had been tamed into a swirling coil of braids threaded through with red velvet ribbon and then twisted into an updo. The festive look was a stark contrast to the pallor of her cheeks and the smudges of exhaustion beneath her blue eyes, but there was little anyone could do about that.
“Thank you, Nita.” Charis rose, ignoring the way the room swayed for a moment before righting itself.
The maid frowned. “I’ll ring for breakfast, Your Majesty.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m running late as it is. You are dismissed.”
The instant Nita closed the door behind her, Nalani said firmly, “I’d like your permission to represent Calera in discussions with various members of Solvanish society.”
Charis reached for her new white fur cloak, but then reconsidered. If recent rumors were true, public sentiment in Solvang had turned against her as news about the bounty spread. She would be much less conspicuous on the docks wearing her plain gray cloak.
“You’re not even listening to me.” Nalani stepped in front of Charis and fisted her hands on her hips.
Charis blinked, her focus momentarily shifting to her cousin. “Did you need something?”
Nalani’s dark eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“What is it?” Charis’s mind raced through the potential problems Nalani might be bringing to her attention. Trouble at the refugee apartments? Invitations to events Charis couldn’t afford to decline when she needed to shore up support among the nobility? Holland offending yet another member of the palace staff?
“I need your permission to speak with your authority to members of Solvanish society.”
Charis paused. “Speak about what?”
“Battle plans, medicinal supplies, schooling for our refugee children, and that’s just for starters.”
“Battle plans?” Charis moved toward her closet to retrieve her gray cloak.
“Father’s brother knows a retired admiral. I’m certain I can get him to agree to discuss strategy with me. If you figure out how to kill the Rakuuna and our allies commit ships to our cause, we’re going to need help developing a battle plan.”
“I know what we need. What I don’t understand is why you’re asking to take care of that on my behalf.” The words rushed out, sounding harsher than Charis intended. “A queen should work directly with her military advisors.”
“Maybe so, but—oh, don’t give me that look.” Nalani’s chin rose in a way that suddenly reminded Charis very much of herself. “You’re wearing yourself out trying to find a way to stop the Rakuuna. You can’t do everything, be everywhere, and speak to everyone at once. And the last Caleran ambassador to Solvang had returned home for the Sister Moons Festival. Who knows if he even survived the invasion? Either way, he isn’t here, and we need a representative from the crown. Give me the job, and let me take care of this for you.”
“You want to be my ambassador to Solvang?” Charis studied her cousin as if just now seeing her. The determined glint in her eye that signaled a battle for any who argued with her. The firm set of her jaw that belied the softness of her features and lulled people into believing she’d be easier to manipulate than her obstinate brother.
She could trust Nalani’s loyalty and discernment. Even better, she could trust that Nalani understood exactly which situations Charis would prefer to handle herself. It was a good solution to a problem Charis had been too busy to even notice.
“I’m perfect for the job.” Nalani raised her hand to tick items off on her fingers. “I’m related to nobility here, which establishes trust. I understand both Caleran and Solvanish culture. I know you, which means I know when I can confidently speak for you and when I need to bring something to your attention first. I’m diplomatic when I have to be and firm when it’s needed. I realize you don’t have many options at the moment, but even if you did, I’d still be the best person for the ambassadorship.”
“I agree.”
“And furthermore, I have connections to—oh. You agree?” Nalani leaned closer as though examining Charis’s expression.
“I do. And I’m glad you brought this to my attention. I’ll draw up a certificate—”
Nalani whipped a small roll of parchment from her dress pocket. “I already did. It just needs your signature.”
“I pity the person who tries to derail you when you’ve made up your mind.” Charis looked over the certificate and then grabbed a quill from the desk and scrawled her signature across the bottom.
“I’m heading to the docks with Reuben today to see if I can find any information on the Rakuuna.” She tied the gray cloak at her throat and reached for a pair of buttery soft black leather gloves. “As you are now my ambassador, I’ll expect daily reports on your conversations and actions. I don’t want any surprises.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Nalani took the parchment, curtsied, flashed a smile at Charis, and left.
Charis quickly joined Reuben in the hallway and headed toward the carriage house, where a small buggy was waiting as requested.
“I don’t like being the only guard, Your Majesty. You need more protection,” Reuben grumbled as they settled into the buggy.
“I won’t need that level of protection if I take care not to look like a queen. I need answers, not pomp and circumstance.”
Tendrils of fog once again threaded the landscape like fraying ribbons. The bay was so shrouded in mist, it was impossible to see past its mouth and out into open waters. A lighthouse glowed at the edge of the bay, but even still, Charis wondered if ships ever collided simply because they couldn’t see each other in time.
The buggy dropped them off half a block from the dock. Even though there was no royal shield on the vehicle’s side, Charis didn’t want the spectacle of arriving in what was clearly an expensive carriage.
The dock was busy. Two large vessels were being unloaded, with a stream of sailors carrying crates down ramps and over to merchant wagons. Other ships were being loaded, cleaned, or repaired. The hum of voices was punctuated by the slap of boots against the dock.
She’d sent a message to Orayn, and he was standing on the dock, a little way down from their ship, haggling with a merchant over what looked like a selection of spare tarps.
When she reached him, Orayn sent the merchant on his way, but not before the man gave Charis a long, bold stare. She ignored the instinct to burrow further into her hood.
“The ship at the far end just arrived from Verace. That’s nearly as far north as you can get without going into the northern seas where Te’ash is located.” Orayn gestured toward a sleek green ship with sailors hauling crates down its ramp.
“Let’s go.” Charis began weaving her way around sailors, merchants, and dockhands alike, with Orayn on her left and Reuben on her right. As they passed her ship, she caught a glimpse of Dec and Grim disembarking and ignored them.
The green ship had the name Ell-roth-mi painted on the side in delicate gold script. She could speak Veracian, though not as well as Solvanish. Still, she was grateful for Tutor Brannigan’s endless hours of drilling her in the languages of the other sea kingdoms.
“Greetings,” she said to a woman with sun-kissed brown skin and a constellation of scars along her cheekbones. The woman wore a green jacket with several patches embroidered on the sleeves, which Charis assumed meant she was either the captain or the first mate.
The woman barely glanced at her. “We’re selling fish at the market. Not here. Ahn-li, if you drop that crate, it’s coming out of your pay!” She glared at one of the sailors, whose feet slid on the damp wood of the ramp before finding purchase again.
“I’ll get straight to the point so that I don’t waste your time,” Charis said crisply. “We aren’t here to buy fish. I’m looking for information about the kingdom of Te’ash and the Rakuuna who live there.”
The woman’s pale gray eyes found Charis’s for an instant, and then she made a strange gesture with her hand, as though wiping something across her collarbone and then flinging it to the ground. “Cursed species. We have nothing to do with them.”
Charis spoke quickly before the woman could turn away. “They’re invading other sea kingdoms. Colonizing. I’m trying to find a way to stop them, but there’s no information here in Solvang about how to kill them. Verace is much farther north. I’d hoped—”
“As I said, we have nothing to do with them. You’d do better finding someone from Embre. Much closer to Te’ash.” She looked back at her ship and swore. “Mer-la, help him, please! I swear he couldn’t find his own face in a mirror.”
Charis pivoted and stared at the plethora of ships tied to the dock. “Any ships here from Embre?”
Orayn shook his head. “Not likely. They keep to themselves. Maybe those sailors who just returned from a merchant run to Thallis might—”
“You’re not welcome here, queen of nothing.” An older man in fish-stained overalls and a wide-brimmed hat spat at Charis as she moved away from the Veracian ship.
Reuben reached for his sword, but Charis breathed, “No.”
She couldn’t risk a scene. Not if she wanted others to feel comfortable talking to her. Ignoring the man, she kept walking, scanning the dock as she went.
In a port as busy as this one, surely someone had to have experience with Embre.
“Aye, that’s right. I recognize you. Spitting image of your mother when she last visited.” The man followed at her heels. “Look at you, trying to hide in that fancy cloak when you’re bringing danger to our shores!”
“Your Majesty—”
“We will not react, Reuben. No, Orayn, ignore him.” She touched Orayn’s shoulder as his large hands curled into fists. “If you’re caught fighting on the docks, you’ll have trouble finding anyone willing to do business with you, and we still need more supplies and a repair or two for the ship before we sail.”
She quickened her pace, but the man followed suit. How was she supposed to hold conversations when she had someone yelling at her wherever she went?
“Shoulda kept to your own,” he shouted. “Or at least had the decency to sail into Dursley, where the likes of you belong.”
Something struck Charis, sending her stumbling forward. Reuben snarled and reached for his sword as Charis turned to find a fish as long as her arm lying at her feet. The man was already reaching into a nearby bucket to pull out another one.
“That’ll be enough out of you,” Reuben said, violence shimmering in his rough voice. But before he could finish drawing his sword, Dec and Grim were there.
Dec stepped in front of the man, blocking his view of Charis, and put a firm hand on the man’s shoulder, while Grim gave a dramatic gasp and yelled, “Thief! He’s stealing your fish, Hilmer!”
A man nearly as large as Orayn, with a long brown beard and deeply creased skin, stalked away from a merchant’s wagon, an angry flush rising in his cheeks. “Shab, you good-for-nothing dog, get your hands off my fish!”
Shab dropped the fish and backed away, his attention diverted to Hilmer, who looked ready to fillet the man with the knife in his hand.
“Come, Your Majesty,” Reuben said with quiet urgency. “It’s best we leave before we run into any more trouble.”
Frustration hummed through Charis as she stalked toward the main road. She was going to have to delegate the search for information to someone else if she was that easily recognized. Who could she trust with the task?
Orayn wouldn’t read people well enough to know when he should push for more information. Reuben was likely to run them through with a sword if they made threats against Charis. Holland could be ruled out for the same reason.
She paused when they reached the road. Turning, she was startled to see Dec and Grim had followed her as well. The fact that they’d demonstrated quick thinking and had acted to protect her was a bitter pill to swallow, but a queen who refused to be fair was a queen who didn’t deserve her power.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, nodding to them. “Your intervention was well timed—and appreciated.”
Dec nodded back, staying silent as usual. Grim, however, gave her a shy smile.
The day couldn’t be a complete loss. She’d had too many of those in a row. Obviously, the two Montevallians were well acquainted with the dock and the people who worked there.
Gesturing toward an alley tucked between the dockmaster’s office and a fishmonger’s stall, she gathered the four men around her and said quietly, “The captain of the Veracian ship thought our best source for information on the Rakuuna would be someone from Embre. Do any of you know of a ship from Embre currently in port? Or maybe a sailor or merchant who’s been there?”
Dec cocked his head as if thinking carefully and then said, “I don’t know of anyone on the docks with ties to Embre, but Shab mentioned Dursley, and visiting there might actually be a good idea.”
Charis frowned. “Where is Dursley?”
“It’s a village on the north end of the island where foreigners who don’t fit in so well with proper Solvanish society live,” Orayn said.
A whisper of something that felt dangerously like hope flickered to life within Charis. “Are any of those foreigners from Embre?”
A slow smile creased Orayn’s face. “It’s been years since I visited there, but I think so.”
Charis dug her fingers into the folds of her cloak to keep them from trembling. “Then let’s go to Dursley and figure it out.”