Six
THE VILLAGE OF Dursley was a three-hour ride away, so Charis cleared her schedule for the second day in a row and requested a large, comfortable carriage. A note from Vyllanthra arrived as Charis finished securing her curls with a cocoa-brown ribbon. Nita hovered anxiously, brush in hand, but Charis didn’t have time to waste if she was going to make the trip to Dursley, hunt for someone from Embre, extract information, and then return to the palace in time to keep her dinner appointment with Queen Vyllanthra.
Charis toyed with the idea of skipping the dinner entirely, but one glance at the note changed her mind.
As Nalani entered the room, dressed in a brushed wool gown of cream and gold, Charis slid the note into the drawer of her bedside table and said, “Nita, I’ll need a bath prepared upon my return, and my evening dress should be pressed and ready. You are dismissed until then.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Nita bowed and left the room.
The instant the door shut, Nalani said, “Are you sure you can manage this trip and attend a dinner with the queen? Perhaps we should do the trip tomorrow instead.”
“We need information immediately. I’m not willing to wait.” Charis shook out her skirts and reached for her cloak.
“Then send your regrets and skip the dinner.” Nalani hurried forward to pull a stray thread from the cloak’s hem. “It’s too much to fit into one day. Especially when you aren’t sleeping, and”—she glanced at Charis’s half-eaten breakfast—“well, at least you ate something. I’ll give you that.”
“I’m glad it meets with your approval.” Charis gave her a small smile and then headed toward the door. “I have to be at the dinner. Vyllanthra made it clear she expects my attendance. Public sentiment has turned against me now that knowledge of the Rakuuna bounty on my head has spread.”
“Great-Aunt Estr thinks you’re being invited to dinner so the queen can question you and make up her mind about whether to continue supporting Solvang’s alliance with what’s left of Calera.”
“Lady Estr is right.” Charis paused at the door. “If Vyllanthra decides we’re more risk than potential reward, I will have no choice but to leave Solvang.”
“All the more reason to get answers from Dursley if there are any answers to be had.” Nalani’s voice firmed.
“Exactly.” Charis opened the door and swept into the hall. Reuben took up his position at her right, Nalani on her left. Four Solvanish guards joined her, and the group moved quickly through the east wing and out into the misty morning air, where a large carriage pulled by four black horses awaited. Holland, along with Dec and Grim, was standing beside it.
She’d decided to include Dec and Grim in the day’s outing because their actions yesterday spoke of loyalty to her. Not because she meant anything to them personally, but because they knew she was the best chance Tal had of being rescued. Alaric could hardly give in to the Rakuuna’s demands if it meant jeopardizing his own kingdom’s safety, even for the life of his youngest son. Charis had made it quite clear in the palloren she’d sent that she intended to take that burden off his shoulders.
She’d also included Dec and Grim because if the people of Dursley were outcasts in Solvanish society, they were far more likely to feel comfortable around those who didn’t appear to be nobility.
Now she just had to endure hours in the company of the spies who’d helped Tal betray her. She’d endured far worse.
Holland, Dec, and Grim bowed and murmured, “Your Majesty” as she passed them and climbed inside the carriage, Reuben on her heels. Holland and Nalani sat on either side of her. Dec and Grim joined Reuben on the opposite bench.
As the vehicle began moving through the city streets, Holland scrutinized her face. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No.”
“Well, you look like that time you had a stomach virus. You’re all pale and thin, and your eyes look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’m fine.” The lie fell from her lips with practiced ease.
“You keep using that word.” Holland raised a brow in her direction. “I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
Charis ignored him and turned to look out the window at the pristine buildings with their elegant window boxes full of the lush chordellia flowers that bloomed here in winter. Her breath puffed from her lips in a swirl of white condensation as she burrowed deeper into her wrap. The kingdoms north of Solvang were already experiencing snow and ice, and it wouldn’t be long before the seas became difficult to navigate.
She intended to be long gone from Solvang before it was unsafe to sail past the northern kingdom of Embre. The worry that Tal was already dead—thus prompting the Rakuuna to place a bounty on Charis’s head for leverage against Alaric—was one she steadfastly refused to consider. He was alive. He had to be. If the idea of his death caused panic within her, it was only because she’d decided he was the tool she would use to gain his father’s cooperation.
The fog thinned beneath the midday sun as the carriage rumbled through fields with scattered stone cottages and rocky outcroppings full of goat herds that leaped nimbly from one craggy peak to another. The rattle of the carriage wheels and the rhythmic sway of its chassis beckoned Charis to close her eyes, but she pinched herself every time she felt her eyelids growing heavy.
That last time she’d accidentally fallen asleep in a carriage, she’d awakened with her head on Tal’s shoulder, his arm braced across her waist to anchor her safely to the seat.
The memory stung, and she drew her spine straight as she glared across at Dec and Grim. She had no plans to ever speak to Tal again, even after she rescued him, which made getting answers to the questions that kept her up at night difficult, to say the least. But here were Tal’s co-conspirators, worried she might change her mind and leave their prince to his fate. She had at least an hour left in the journey to Dursley. Might as well make the most of it.
Before she could think better of it, she said casually, “Your prince must have been quite pleased to be assigned as my bodyguard.”
Beside her, Nalani stiffened, and Charis could practically feel her worry. Holland, on the other hand, stretched his legs out like a cat and let his hand come to rest on the hilt of his sword.
Grim shot an anxious look at Dec, who held himself as still and watchful as always, his dark eyes finding Charis’s. When it became clear she was waiting for a response, Dec said quietly, “Nothing about being sent to Calera as a spy pleased Prince Tal.”
Holland snorted.
“Well, he certainly had an aptitude for it.” Charis settled back against her seat and smiled at Grim in a way that had beads of sweat suddenly dotting his forehead. She raised a hand to tick items off on her fingers. “Perfect Caleran accent—quite impressive, really. Friendliness that disarmed others. A familiarity with northern Calera that gained the trust of my father.”
Fury crept into her voice. “That must have been a moment of pride for Tal. Father rarely let new staff get close to him, and he was so taken in by Tal that he trusted your traitor of a prince with that which was most precious to him. Me.”
Grim rubbed his palms against his thighs as if scrubbing them clean. Dec folded his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving hers.
“I’m sure Tal was thrilled to report to King Alaric that he’d managed to deceive not only the king of Calera, but its princess as well. I can only imagine the celebration—”
“He was terrified of you at first,” Grim blurted out, his voice shaking. Charis was surprised to note that the emotion in his words was anger nearly strong enough to match her own.
“Grim,” Dec breathed, but the other boy paid no attention.
Charis leaned forward. “Not nearly terrified enough.”
“You have no idea what it was like for him.” Grim threw the words at her. “He wasn’t happy to be assigned to you, but what choice did he have?”
He’d had plenty of choices. Becoming her friend had been a choice. Kissing her had been a choice. Not telling her the truth had been a choice. He’d been rich with choices, and at every turn, he’d done the wrong thing.
“Your Majesty.” Dec unfolded his arms and clasped his hands in his lap. “Tal should be the one to explain himself to you. We can’t pretend to know everything that happened between the two of you. We know how bad it was for him at home in Montevallo, and we know—”
“How bad could it have been?” Holland sounded genuinely curious. “He was a prince.”
Dec considered Holland in silence for a long moment, and then said evenly, “He was unwanted, unloved by his father—”
“Abused by his father, more like,” Grim muttered.
“Constantly told he was worthless and would never be of value to Montevallo like his older brother and sister were.” Dec continued as if Grim hadn’t spoken. “His older brother adopted the same attitude toward Tal and delighted in making his life miserable. When he was ordered to be a spy, he knew it was his one chance to redeem himself in his father’s eyes.”
“He had nothing to redeem!” Grim’s voice rose. “He was sickly as a child, and that alone made the king decide he wasn’t worthy of being a Penbyrn.”
“Because he was sick?” Nalani asked.
“Growing up, he wasn’t strong enough to be trained for the military, which is all a thirdborn royal is really expected to do in a kingdom constantly at war. Of course, he outgrew that and worked hard to turn himself into a capable warrior, but by then, his father had other plans for him.” Dec met Charis’s gaze again. “That’s what we can tell you about his past. Any explanations about his actions toward you will have to come from him.”
Charis looked away. How could a small part of her battered heart ache at the thought of young Tal, rejected by his father, bullied by his brother, adrift in a society that only valued him if he could contribute to their war with Calera?
He’d done more than contribute. He’d done more than spy. He’d broken through her defenses and left her in ruins.
The carriage slowed as it entered the fringes of Dursley. The stone buildings were shorter than those in the capital and spread loosely along the street, as though the inhabitants who lived and worked here preferred space between themselves and others.
Dec unclasped his hands. “Your Majesty, Grim and I volunteer to ask around for someone from Embre. Even in a cloak, you are unmistakably nobility, as is Lady Farragin”—he nodded respectfully toward Nalani—“and people like these might not want to speak with you.”
“What about me?” Holland demanded.
Dec glanced at him. “No one would take you for nobility—”
“Thank you.”
“Until you open your mouth and display your rather impressive education,” Dec finished.
Holland glared at him. Charis studied Dec and Grim for a moment, but she already knew Dec was right. Sentiment had turned against her in Solvang, and people who felt like outcasts already would hardly be interested in speaking with the refugee queen who’d brought trouble to their shores.
“You have one hour,” Charis said. “Knock on every door. If the information we need is here, we can’t afford to miss it.”
“I can knock on doors,” Holland muttered as the two Montevallians exited the carriage and hurried down the closest street.
Charis, Reuben, and the twins sat in silence for a few moments, watching the Montevallians move from one building to the next, their shoulders hunched against the sharp winter wind that sent watery gray clouds scudding across the sky, momentarily obscuring the midday sun.
Finally, Nalani said softly, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it helps me a little to understand Tal’s childhood.”
“Being picked on as a kid, even by your own family, is no reason to act with dishonor.” Holland gripped his sword hilt until his knuckles turned white.
“But he treated his father—his kingdom—with honor.” Nalani leaned forward to look across Charis’s lap and meet her brother’s gaze. “We’re angry because we thought he was one of us.”
“Because he’s a liar.” Holland’s lip curled around the word as if he could barely stomach it.
Charis’s heartbeat shuddered, a jagged rhythm pulsing through her as if she was a hollow vessel capable of holding nothing more than the echo of who she used to be.
“He lied to us. Not to his family. His own people.” Nalani clasped and unclasped her hands, her telltale sign of distress. “If you’d been assigned to spy in Alaric’s palace, and you’d succeeded in getting close to the royal family, they’d be furious with you, but would you think of yourself as dishonorable?”
“He did more than just spy on Charis!” Holland’s voice rose.
“I know that, but—”
“Enough.” Charis meant to sound firm, but the word came out ragged and worn. Instantly, the twins turned to her.
“I’m sorry.” Nalani grasped Charis’s cold fingers in her own. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Holland bumped her shoulder with his. “Don’t worry, Charis. I’ll make sure the traitor regrets ever setting eyes on you.”
“And if he doesn’t, Your Majesty, I certainly will.” Reuben’s voice shimmered with violence—a part of him that used to make her deeply uncomfortable. Now it barely scratched the surface of the darkness in her heart.
The three of them were watching her closely. Slowly, she lifted her chin and blinked away any hint of emotion in her eyes.
She couldn’t look weak. Even in front of her closest allies. Tal had taught her that.
The carriage door opened, and the Montevallians entered on a gust of frigid wind. “Found someone,” Dec said as they settled into their seats. “A herbologist. The coachmistress is taking us to the shop now.”
The vehicle took three turns and then rolled to a stop in front of a little hut made of gray stone. Ivy clung to the walls, and a gate to the left of the entrance led to an overgrown garden.
“You two, stay here,” Charis said to Dec and Grim.
Charis left the carriage, followed by Holland, Nalani, and Reuben, and the four of them entered the shop.
An old woman was bent over a large pot stirring something that bubbled and steamed, filling the room with the scent of damp wood and bright citrus. A thick purple scarf was wrapped around her head, and her wrinkled skin resembled a crumpled piece of parchment.
She glanced up as Charis entered, one blue eye sizing up her visitor. The other eye was covered in white film. “The name’s Lunay. Help you?” she asked in thickly accented Solvanish.
“I understand you’re originally from Embre,” Charis said.
“Oh, aye.” Lunay reached for a dusty glass bottle full of something that looked like red seeds and poured a small amount into the bubbling mixture.
“Do you know who I am?”
Lunay stirred her pot. “Should I?”
“Probably not.” Charis stepped closer. “I’m from Calera. We’ve recently been invaded by the Rakuuna. A small number of us escaped, but most of the kingdom is now trapped.”
Lunay muttered something in the lilting language of Embre and spat on the floor.
“I have the difficult task of learning how to defeat the invaders so I can save my people. I’ve searched every resource in the Royal Library, but nothing there tells me how to kill the Rakuuna.”
“Needs moriarthy.” Lunay returned the red seeds to their shelf.
“I don’t understand.” Charis frowned. Did she mean her concoction needed something else, or was she speaking of the Rakuuna?
Lunay gave her pot another vigorous stir and then faced Charis. “Moriarthy. Dry beans from the moriar bush, crushed into powder, kills Rakuuna.”
The pressure in Charis’s chest burst, sending a rush of vicious hope through her veins that nearly brought her to her knees. Holland rapped his fist against his sword sheath and swore, while Nalani clasped her hands to her chest. Reuben’s perpetual sneer widened into something that almost resembled a smile.
“How? Do we coat our weapons with it? Or do they have to ingest it?”
Lunay frowned and then shrugged. “Maybe both. Maybe not. Been many years since I was in Embre.”
Charis was too triumphant to care about this small setback. She’d figure out the delivery system for the poison herself. She’d coat every weapon, fill tiny satchels for every warrior in her army, even pour it into Arborlay’s water supply if she had to.
Finally, she had a way to secure the support of her allies. A way to rescue Tal and get King Alaric to honor the betrothal agreement she’d signed with their treaty.
A way to ruin those who’d ruined her.
She lifted her chin, fire burning through her as she said, “I’ll buy all the moriarthy dust you have in stock.”
“Don’t have much.” Lunay reached for another jar and shook the gritty red-brown contents at Charis. “Only grows on Embre.”
Embre. How convenient. Charis had been planning to sail in that direction anyway.
The fact that Embre hadn’t pursued trade with Calera in many decades was of no account. They would help Charis, or they would learn firsthand why Montevallo had called her the warmongering princess. She’d approach with honey but finish with a sword if that’s what it took.
Nalani hurried forward to pay Lunay for the moriarthy dust. The herbologist poured the dust into a small leather satchel. Charis accepted the satchel from Nalani and attached it to the braided silver belt that wrapped around her stomach.
The group remained silent until they were safely back inside the carriage and the coachmistress had ordered the horses forward. The instant they were in motion, Grim leaned forward.
“Did she have what we need?” The frayed hope in his voice scraped against Charis, and she wrapped her hand around the satchel at her waist as she levied a cold stare in his direction. He was worried about his precious prince, but she had the fate of an entire kingdom on her shoulders.
“She had a small amount of poison that she says will kill Rakuuna. Not nearly enough, but at least now we know where to get more.”
“Where?” Even Dec sounded eager.
“Embre.” Charis turned toward Holland. “I have dinner with Vyllanthra tonight, and Nalani is meeting with your uncle’s friend the retired admiral to discuss possible battle strategies, so I want you to prepare our crew to set sail at first light.”
“Sailing through dense, early-morning fog.” Holland raised a brow. “Sounds difficult.”
Charis gritted her teeth. “You’re right.”
“A frequent occurrence,” Holland said. Nalani huffed.
“We’ll have to leave the harbor at midday, Your Majesty,” Dec said. “But Grim and I can gather the rest of the crew and their belongings and make sure all final preparations are made while you’re at dinner. Perhaps Reuben could give some of the palace staff the job of bringing your trunks on board?”
He glanced at Holland and Nalani, and Charis gathered herself for the argument that was about to erupt.
“Nalani is staying behind as my ambassador to Solvang. And Holland will be staying as well. Only my belongings will need to be transferred to the ship, Reuben.”
There was a beat of silence, and then protests erupted from the twins.
Holland swore with such creative flourish, Charis felt sure he’d learned some new words during his time at the docks.
“You aren’t going out there alone.” Nalani leaned toward Charis. “Who will watch out for you?”
“I have an entire crew—”
“With me on it.” Holland glared at her.
“Orayn, Finn, and Reuben are perfectly capable of keeping me safe.”
“It’s not just about your safety.” Nalani’s hand wrapped around Charis’s and squeezed gently. “You need a friend, too.”
Her words pierced Charis, and salt stung her eyes. Blinking, she drew herself up straight. “The northern waters are treacherous.”
“Which means you should stay here and send me instead.” Holland’s hands curled into fists.
“Embre needs to be handled by an expert negotiator,” Charis said.
“I can negotiate with my sword.” Holland turned to her, and she whipped a hand in the air to stop his next words.
“We must get that poison from Embre. Everything else fails if we don’t achieve that. And we all know the dangerous waters are the least of what awaits us out there. Rakuuna must be searching for me if there’s a bounty on my head, and they are hardly the only monster in the seas. And then there’s the fact that I have to marry Vahn Penbyrn when we reach Montevallo, or we can’t convince Alaric to lend us his army, even if we manage to rescue Tal to use him as leverage. I’m the one going.”
Nalani’s grip on her hand tightened. “But—”
“Our people have lost so much already. I’m going, and I’m leaving my heirs safely in Solvang in case I don’t make it out of this alive.” She kept her voice from trembling but had to swallow hard against the lump forming in her throat. A queen didn’t get to flinch from shouldering the hardest burdens, but still, Charis wished she could keep her cousins close instead of facing the unknown all alone.
Tears shone in Nalani’s eyes, and Holland muttered several things under his breath, but when she looked expectantly at them, they both bowed their heads and murmured, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ignoring the twinge of loneliness that settled into her at the thought of continuing the journey without her closest friends, Charis smoothed her expression into one of serene confidence as the carriage slowed before the palace’s entrance.
It was time to tell Gareth and Vyllanthra her plans and then make sure preparations were in place to set sail for Embre.