Nine
THE CRAGGY SHORELINE of Embre came into view on their fifteenth day of travel. Squinting against the light of the winter sun as it reflected off the icy gray water, Charis nodded to Holland to release the palloren with her message to Embre’s chancellor tied to its leg.
She expected a prompt response, though she’d hardly given the chancellor any warning about her impending arrival. It didn’t serve her to allow him time to think through her reasons for showing up when Calera had no trade relations with Embre. She needed him off balance and scrambling to keep up with her.
As the palloren swooped through the pale sky, she scanned the waters, searching, as always, for a sign of the Rakuuna.
She’d barely slept for their first three days at sea. Instead, she’d stalked the deck, hunting for a glimpse of long, pale bodies that swam impossibly fast and examining the horizon for a glimmer of the green lanterns used by Rakuuna ships.
Twice, she’d heard ear-piercing wails that sounded like Rakuuna, but they were distant—drifting across foggy water like echoes of something half-forgotten.
It was a vast sea, and finding her ship would take time and a bit of luck, but Charis didn’t fool herself. She couldn’t risk staying in Embre, even overnight. The farther they were from land, the harder they’d be to find.
At least that’s what she was counting on.
She’d filled her days by drilling the crew on using the weapons in the ship’s arsenal, including teaching Holland, Reuben, and crew members Ayve and Lohan the basics of the seven rathmas sword-fighting style. If the lessons reminded her of long hours spent with Tal, his callused hands adjusting her stance while his breath warmed her neck, it was nothing the knife of his betrayal couldn’t chase to the back of her mind.
“Palloren returning!” Finn called. Reuben hurried to untie the message and, when Charis nodded, scanned it quickly.
“Well?” she asked when he was done.
His lip curled. “Apparently they have procedures to follow, and that means we’re to stay outside the harbor until his committee of advisors notifies us that we’ve been approved for a visit.” He handed the paper to her.
“I volunteer to tell them exactly where they can put their procedures.” Holland paced the length of the bow, his duster billowing in his wake.
Keeping a royal dignitary from a non-enemy kingdom anchored outside one’s harbor was an unforgivable breach of courtesy. The chancellor was trying to make the point that he was the highest ranking official here, regardless of her title.
Charis could care less about outranking anyone. She just needed a weapon to destroy the Rakuuna. And she wasn’t going to sit out here on the open sea, hoping a man on a power trip got around to selling it to her.
“If he wants the queen of Calera as his enemy, he’s going to get his wish.” Charis spun toward Ayve, who’d volunteered to help Charis when it came time to presenting herself like a queen. “I need a fancier dress than this, a crown—”
“A sword,” Holland suggested.
“That too. And once I’m ready, we’re sailing into that harbor and docking at his port. While his committee scrambles to figure out what to do with us, we will disembark and enter his kingdom. And we aren’t leaving until we get what we came for.”
Twenty minutes later, Charis was wearing a dark green gown embroidered with bronze falcons and the delicate golden crown Vyllanthra had gifted her. A sword strapped to her side, she stood at the bow of her ship as it sailed into the harbor as if she was heading into battle.
Her fingers trembled as she gripped the railing, struggling to keep the fear at bay. This had to work. If the chancellor refused to see her, much less sell moriarthy dust to her, everything was lost.
She’d sent a palloren moments ago expressing her intention as queen to seek refuge in Embre for a single day. There had been no reply, but in fairness, the ship had already been en route when the palloren took flight, so she’d hardly given the chancellor’s committee time to follow their precious procedures.
She glared at the shoreline, and the fury in her heart spilled into her blood until she felt forged in fire. The leader of Embre would not be the reason Charis failed to save her people.
It took nearly fifteen minutes to cross the harbor and maneuver into an open slip at the dock, giving the chancellor and his committee plenty of time to hear the news that the Calerans were no longer content to play games. Therefore, it was no surprise to see a small delegation of people in green-and-gold uniforms waiting on the dock as the ship made port. Every member of the welcome party had their weapon out.
“I’m sensing some hostility,” Holland said.
“They don’t have to welcome us for long, but I’m not leaving without getting what we came for.” Charis glared down at the delegation as two crew members lowered the gangplank.
A woman from the delegation stepped forward, her curved sword pointed at the ship. “Greetings, Charis Willowthorn, Queen of Calera.” She spoke a rough form of Caleran, her consonants brusque and her vowels lengthened in the style of Embrian speech. “Chancellor Jhi sends you good wishes for your journey and respectfully requests that you sail from our harbor immediately.”
Charis murmured softly to Holland, who in turn spoke flawless Embrian in a loud, commanding voice, “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Charis Willowthorn of Calera, offers her greetings to Chancellor Jhi, along with her sincere regret that she must refuse his directive without first speaking to him in person.”
The woman blinked and shot a glance at the others in the delegation. They shifted uneasily, and a quick, whispered conversation ensued. Then the woman said, “Chancellor Jhi expects you to leave the harbor, Your Majesty. He will not be coming to the docks.”
Charis let her lips curve into the smile that never failed to inspire instant obedience in those who’d earned her anger. A queen would not address a delegate, especially before being formally received by the chancellor. That Jhi had sent a spokesperson rather than greet the queen himself was very telling.
Maybe it was a foolish power play.
Or maybe even Embre had heard of Calera’s fate, and he wanted no involvement in a potential conflict with Te’ash.
She spoke rapidly to Holland without breaking eye contact with the woman on the dock.
Holland’s voice filled the space between the two parties. “Chancellor Jhi is either a friend to the alliance of Calera, Montevallo, Solvang, Thallis, and Verace, or he is our enemy. We will give him an hour to make his choice before sending pallorens to the rest of our armada with news that they must change course from their intended target and visit Embre first.”
The delegation erupted into furious whispers. Charis remained still, pride and fury glittering in her eyes.
The key to selling a lie was to speak it once, with conviction, and then behave as though no other explanation was needed. Those who rushed to pad their words with justifications and excuses were easy to see through. Those who spoke as though they’d just had the final word on the matter sowed a seed of doubt, and the line between doubt and fear was thin and fragile.
“I think they believe you,” Ayve breathed quietly from Charis’s left. Beneath her heavy cloak, she also wore a dress with a sword strapped to her waist. Her skills as a seamstress had certainly served her well. The quality of her dress was easily equal to what the nobility wore, and it helped sell the idea that Charis was here on official business.
Two members of the delegation peeled off from the rest and hurried toward the town whose rooftops were just visible past the craggy rocks that comprised Embre’s shoreline. Charis stood with Holland, Ayve, Reuben, Orayn, and Finn beside the lowered gangplank, waiting silently for the chancellor’s response.
Charis kept her expression cold and distant as her thoughts raced. What would she do if the chancellor called her bluff? Her crew couldn’t fight their way through the town until they found Jhi’s home. And they certainly couldn’t force the Embrians to sell them their supply of moriarthy dust. If Jhi didn’t respond to Charis’s threat, she had precious little room to maneuver.
Her hope was that the palloren Jhi had already received from her, which included one of the letters from King Gareth, would lend credibility to the idea that she’d managed to form an armada with the help of her allies.
Time passed slowly as they stood waiting, cloaks pulled close to shelter them from the frigid gusts of wind that stung their cheeks and numbed their noses. Dread crept into Charis’s thoughts as the hour she’d given played out with no sign of Jhi.
She was going to have to somehow appear to make good on her threat.
“Captain,” she called with bold confidence, “send pallorens to every admiral in our armada and instruct them to send a contingent of warships to Embre. Let them know we will wait in this harbor until they arrive.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Orayn didn’t hesitate. Turning, he shouted, “Ready the pallorens!”
“Wait!” The spokeswoman for the Embrian delegate stepped forward again. “Chancellor Jhi will not allow you to disembark, but he will grant you a brief audience aboard your ship.”
Relief rushed through Charis as she nodded to Holland. He said, “We will welcome Chancellor Jhi and assure his safety while in our presence. Captain, stay those pallorens until we speak with the chancellor.”
Orayn yelled his counterorder as just beyond the craggy shoreline, a retinue approached the dock.
Chancellor Jhi was a short, middle-aged man with a graying black beard, brown skin, and a wickedly curved axe strapped across his back. His dark umber robe was embroidered with intricate swirls of peacock blue and brilliant yellow. Five guards in peacock-blue uniforms edged in scarlet accompanied him as he made his up the gangplank with measured, stately steps.
Charis appreciated a show of power when she saw one, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he’d come to her because his warriors had been unable to force her to comply. And because he was afraid of her nonexistent armada.
“Chancellor Jhi.” She extended her hand.
“Queen Charis.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. His mustache scraped across her skin, and she suppressed a shiver of revulsion.
“Please, join me in our mess hall. I’m afraid it isn’t as elegant a meeting place as I’d hoped to enjoy for our first conversation, but it will have to do.” Her words were barbed beneath their polite veneer.
“Elegant surroundings are reserved for our invited guests.” Jhi’s polite veneer wore as thin as her own.
That was fine. Charis was well versed in navigating tricky political waters with an opponent who thought they were the predator and she the prey. They never realized their mistake until it was too late.
Jhi sat on one side of a long wooden table, his guards standing at attention beside him. Charis sat opposite him, Holland and Ayve standing to her right and on her left, Orayn, Finn, and Reuben forming a protective semicircle around the group, with Reuben close to Holland in case he needed to leap across the table to meet an oncoming threat.
If you needed information from an opponent, you waited to see how they would steer the conversation and played a careful game of cat and mouse, hunting for the crumbs they unwittingly dropped. But if you wanted to establish dominance and quickly maneuver an opponent into a corner, you went for the jugular and held your grip until they surrendered.
Charis needed Jhi to feel backed into a corner, and she needed it fast. Before the Rakuuna who hunted her closed in, making a safe transfer of the poison impossible.
“I trust you received the palloren with messages from both me and King Gareth of Solvang. Because you understand the severity of the situation Calera faces, I will do you the courtesy of coming right to the point.” She leaned forward, her words sharp as a blade.
“Every allied kingdom in the east and the north has made a commitment to drive the Rakuuna from Caleran lands except you and Rullenvor. Rullenvor has been overtaken by the Rakuuna, and we believe their High Emperor is dead, so I expected no help from that quarter. However, I certainly expected the kingdom closest to Te’ash to be concerned about the Rakuuna’s colonization efforts and to join forces with the rest of us to defeat them. But you didn’t, did you?”
Jhi opened his mouth, but Charis wasn’t done.
“No, you remained silent. And then you tried to turn us away. I can only think of two reasons for that. First, you’re scared of the Rakuuna coming to your shores. Or second, you’re already aligned with them and hope to benefit from the destruction of my kingdom.”
The chancellor drew back as if deeply offended. “We have nothing to gain from Calera’s troubles.”
“But you do have everything to lose.” She met his gaze, the fire of her rage burning through her veins as the answer to making him give her what she needed came to her. “I don’t believe you’re scared of the Rakuuna. Why would you be when you alone have a supply of the poison that kills them?”
He shifted in his chair, his gaze darting momentarily away. She’d struck on the truth, and he didn’t like it.
“They must know that you can defend yourselves against them.”
“Our affairs are no business of yours.” Jhi made as though to stand. “You are not granted entry into our kingdom, and therefore you must leave.”
“If I leave without getting what I came for, you and your kingdom are as good as dead.” Her words sliced the air like a weapon, and she let him see the fire that burned in her blood. He’d assumed he was dealing with a child playing at ruling a lost kingdom. It was time he understood that the girl before him was a queen, forged in war and ruin, willing to obliterate all who stood in her way.
“You can’t defend yourself against the Rakuuna if they decide to attack in overwhelming numbers, and they will, Chancellor Jhi. They will.”
He paused, halfway out of his chair. “That’s absurd.”
She ignored his response. “The Rakuuna invader who currently holds the throne in my kingdom is intercepting every palloren sent to Calera. When I send a message to my contact in the palace that you willingly gave us your entire supply of moriarthy dust in the hopes that we would destroy Te’ash so you could have its resources, what do you think will happen?”
Jhi slowly settled back into his chair, his short fingers gripping the edges of the table as though holding on for dear life. “You won’t reach out to Calera. There’s a bounty on your head.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll send every palloren in my possession except one, just to make sure the Rakuuna intercept the message.” She lifted her chin and stared him down. “Their queen will believe that Embre is now defenseless and that you also handed their enemy a weapon that can destroy them. How long do you think you’ll have before they come for you?”
He waved a hand in the air as though her words were of no consequence, but a muscle along his jaw was tight as he said, “We can defend ourselves.”
“Can you?” She infused her tone with sympathy. “They won’t politely sail a ship into the harbor and use the dock to enter your city. They will anchor their warships all around your island and swim ashore. They’ll come at you from every direction, and they’ll tear everyone they meet into pieces. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
She gave him a cold smile. “You’ll kill some of them, certainly. But you won’t kill them all. Not by a long shot. And do you know what is coming for you once the Rakuuna leave here?”
He frowned, glancing at his guards as though one of them might have the answer.
“Me.”Charis stood, her hand on the hilt of her sword, though she kept it sheathed. Fear and fury warred within her until she couldn’t tell the difference between the two. “I will send my armada to Embre, and we will take every last bit of moriarthy dust for our battle on Caleran soil. You couldn’t defend yourself against us even without the Rakuuna wiping out half your people. What chance do you have of turning us away once those monsters get through with you?”
Jhi lunged to his feet, sending his chair flying. “How dare you threaten us!”
Her voice filled the mess hall with icy rage. “How dare you refuse to help when it is in your power to do so! You could easily sell us enough moriarthy dust to serve our purposes while keeping some back for your own defense. Te’ash would never know you’d done so, because they wouldn’t believe you’d share your weapon and potentially weaken yourselves against them. And because they wouldn’t believe it, they wouldn’t come for you. Not when they are so singularly focused on destroying my kingdom instead.”
She held herself utterly still, a fierce, immovable opponent he had no hope of beating. “You could have helped us willingly without cost to yourselves and gained staunch allies in Calera, Solvang, Verace, Montevallo, and Thallis. Instead, you chose the destruction of your kingdom, and I will still get what I came for. I just have to wait out the bloodshed.”
Turning on her heel, she snapped to her retinue, “Tell the captain to ready the sails. I want us out on the open water within the hour. Lord Farragin, send ten identical messages to our contacts in Calera that Embre has been most generous in selling us all their moriarthy dust, believing Te’ash will never attack. Captain, send a palloren to the admiral—”
“Stop!” Jhi slammed his fist on the table.
Charis paused, one eyebrow raised as though mildly curious. Vicious triumph blazed in her chest, sending her heart pounding. She’d backed him into a corner so fast, he’d had no time to think. No time to sort through her words, hunting for cracks in the show of strength she’d presented. He was going to acquiesce. He had to. In his eyes, she was already setting in motion the chain of events that would ruin Embre.
When he glared at her and said nothing for a long moment, she shrugged and turned away. “You all have your orders. Get this ship moving and get those palloren into the air.”
“You can buy some moriarthy dust.” Jhi sounded furious.
Charis pivoted back toward the table. “I will buy enough to fill the barrels we brought for that purpose. I suggest you deliver it disguised with a shipment of food and water so that in case we are being watched, it appears as though all you did was reprovision us and send us on our way.”
He looked as though he wanted to spit in her face, but instead, he said, “And if I do this, you will protect us from rumors reaching Te’ash, and you will call off your armada?”
“I will.”
Slowly he nodded, his expression carved with bitterness, his chest puffed out in a last display of pride. “This will be our one and only dealing with Calera. Do not attempt to contact us again.”
“As you wish,” she said, because allowing him to collect the shreds of his dignity in front of his people was the best way to ensure his quick compliance. Now he could tell people he’d bargained fiercely with her and managed to drive away both her armada and the threat of Te’ash with the clever sale of a few barrels of moriarthy dust. He’d be hailed as a great and heroic leader, and Charis would leave him in peace unless she had no other recourse.
Less than two hours later, her ship loaded with barrels of poison, her casks full of fresh water, and her larder replenished with Embrian grain, root vegetables, and jars of pickled fruit, Charis sent a palloren to Nalani asking her to notify Calera’s allies that Charis now had a powerful weapon they could use against the Rakuuna. Solvang’s top admiral would coordinate with the leadership of the other kingdoms and plan an attack from the sea. She then sent a second palloren to King Alaric, asking him to meet her at the northern border between Calera and Montevallo with his army in tow.
“Where to, Your Majesty?” Orayn asked as they left Embre’s harbor behind.
For a moment, Tal’s face filled her mind. His crooked smile and the challenge in his eyes when he argued with her. The way his cheeks burned when she caught him staring at her, and the unspoken conversations they could have across a crowded room. She looked north, at the unforgiving gray seas where ice caps floated in the distance.
He was out there. Imprisoned on Te’ash by creatures who appeared to have no mercy. And Charis was going to have to leave him there if she wanted to rescue her people. She couldn’t risk the dangerous journey—sailing around icebergs and sea monsters, in danger of being discovered by the Rakuuna—not when she had a huge supply of moriarthy dust in her hold. And not when Alaric had already agreed to help her.
It was a choice between saving her people or saving the boy who’d broken her heart, and it shouldn’t hurt so much to leave him behind. The ache in her heart sent tendrils of pain down to her fingertips, and she balled up her fists.
She needed to reach northern Calera, where she could travel by horseback to the Montevallian border and meet up with King Alaric. But first she needed a way to deliver half of the moriarthy dust to Nalani so her allies could arm their ships as they came to Calera’s defense along her shoreline. The fastest way would be to sail for Verace, give the poison to their navy for safe transport to Solvang, and then turn toward northern Calera.
She looked to Orayn. “Set a course for Verace. Get there as fast as you can. I want this poison divided up in case anything happens to us.”
Moving to the bow of the ship as Orayn shouted orders, Charis set her gaze on the distant southern horizon, resolutely refusing to glance over her shoulder again for one last glimpse of the path that would have taken her to Tal.