Eighteen
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Charis was at the bow of the ship, clinging to the railing as the vessel climbed a massive swell before plunging down and sending a spray of icy water onto the deck. The sky pressed close, an ominous bruised indigo full of thick, metal-gray clouds. Just ahead, the skyline blurred, as if the ship was hurtling toward a curtain of rainfall.
“Your Majesty.” Reuben’s voice beside her was unsteady. “We’re sailing into a storm. We should go below.”
“Soon.” She didn’t want to go below. Everything inside her was stretched too thin, scraped too raw, and if she had to spend the hours between now and nightfall trapped in a cabin with Tal and Holland, she was going to break.
Staying in a different cabin wasn’t even worth considering. She’d tried staying with others on her crew, but they all looked at her with such deference and hope in their eyes.
It was the hope that gutted her.
They saw their fierce, indominable queen, who was only imprisoned because she chose to become bait and outsmart their enemy. Imprisoned, but not conquered. Temporarily inconvenienced, but still viciously capable of winning.
Charis knew the truth.
If she was the conquering Rakuuna leader, she would never allow Calera’s queen to survive. Especially when that queen had become a symbol of resistance to the people whose subservience she needed.
Charis had been dead the instant the Rakuuna ship found them on the open seas.
The ship shuddered as it plunged down another long swell and slammed into the valley below it. Charis gripped the railing harder as Reuben bent over and vomited.
“It’s done.” Tal’s voice spoke directly behind her, nearly startling her into losing her grip.
She spun toward him and found misery in his eyes. Thunder rumbled through the air, and rain began pelting the deck.
“I put some on the queen’s portrait.” He swallowed. “And I put some on one of the clothes a sick Rakuuna is using to dab his sores. It—he used the cloth before I left the sick bay.”
Lightning split the sky, snaking in four directions and raising the hair on her arms.
“Your Majesty,” Reuben croaked. “The storm—”
“What happened?” Charis asked, her fists clenched so hard, her fingernails pressed deep half-moons into her palms.
The poison had to work. She had nothing else to use against her enemy.
A muscle along Tal’s jaw worked, and then he said, “He screamed as if someone had poured boiling oil onto his wound. The sore was bubbling and hissing, and it—there was a lot of blood.”
She nodded as another fork of lightning blazed overhead. All around, Rakuuna were hurrying to secure rigging and safeguard their ship from the storm. Reuben vomited again.
“It works,” she said, feeling more weary than triumphant. “At least we know if we find a way to wound them first, the poison works.”
“Your Majesty—” Reuben paused to dry heave.
“We should go below,” Tal said, glancing at the sky and reaching for her.
Reachingfor her. As if she was just going to take his hand and follow him.
“I’m capable.” She turned away from Tal’s outstretched hand. There was no point staying where it wasn’t safe, even if she couldn’t stand the thought of being cooped up in the cabin. Besides, Reuben would refuse to leave her side, and as sick as he was, he was likely to get washed overboard.
There was a time when she would have welcomed that. Now she needed his loyalty and unwavering commitment to the Caleran crown if she was going to see this through.
The understanding that she’d come to rely on the man who’d killed Milla sat uneasily, pricking at her heart.
It could join the rest of the thoughts that kept her up at night and clawed at her composure during the day.
They slipped and skidded their way to the stairs and climbed below. Tal hesitated when he reached the cabin door, and Charis glared at him. “I’m going to get Reuben settled and check on the rest of the crew.”
“But then you’ll return so Holland and I can make sure you’re safe?” He was watching her far too closely, and she was reminded of all the times he’d seen past her words to read her thoughts instead.
“Of course,” she said as if he was a fool for thinking otherwise.
His eyes narrowed, but when he saw her guiding Reuben into the next cabin, he finally went inside and shut the door.
“Go lie down,” Charis said as she maneuvered Reuben into his cabin. The ship pitched forward, and Charis caught herself against the wall.
“What if we sink?” Reuben’s voice wavered and sweat dotted his brow as he swallowed hard.
“The Rakuuna wouldn’t dare let that happen.” She straightened with the ship and drew in a shaky breath. The tattered remnants of her outward calm were fraying rapidly.
“You don’t know that, Your Majesty.” Reuben slid forward, banging into a chair, as the ship crested on another swell and then plunged forward.
“I’m of no value to them if I’m lost at sea.” She used the same voice on him that had worked on Tal. “And they’re capable of steering the ship from both the helm and those handholds they have below the surface. If they can steer it, they can stabilize it. Now go to bed.”
He reached his bed and gripped the edges. “You’ll be in your cabin with the traitor and Lord Farragin?”
“Yes. Now lie down before you fall down.”
She closed his door behind her and then braced her hands against the wall to consider her options.
She’d intended to check on the rest of her crew, but they would need reassurances she didn’t feel capable of giving. And she’d intended to resign herself to hours in the cabin with Holland and Tal, both of whom had become increasingly persistent in asking her how she was doing. The thought sent a restless, agitated sort of energy humming just beneath her skin.
She was fine. She was always fine. What other choice did she have?
Abandoning the idea of heading for her cabin, she wandered into the empty mess hall, gripping one of the tables that was bolted to the floor as the ship rolled to its left before righting itself.
Despite what she’d said to Reuben, she knew the ship might go under. The thought of the unforgiving sea rushing through corridors, filling rooms, and stealing the breath from her lungs should have been horrifying. Instead there was a weary sort of longing within her to just let the water in. Let it wash away the pain and the wreckage of the life she had and bring her to where her parents waited.
No more grief. No more fury. No more wishing things were different.
The dark chasm within her would seal shut, and she’d be free.
She’d be free, but her people would still be trapped. Her allies still at risk. Her promises unkept.
Something unfurled within her, raw and tender to the touch, and she dug her nails into the table as it spread, pressing against her bones, tearing through her veins, spilling across her tongue until she threw back her head and screamed.
Panting, she closed her eyes and listened, trying to come up with a story to explain away the noise if anyone came to check on her, though surely the sounds of the storm had drowned her out.
The ship’s timbers groaned as the wind battered the vessel, and a sharp crack rumbled through the air, though she couldn’t tell if it was lightning or a break in one of their masts. The rain drummed steadily against the deck above her, but no voices called out in worry.
It was better this way.
No one here to see her falter and break. No one to offer help when there was nothing anyone could do to change what was.
Her throat closed, as if a fist was wrapped around her neck, and she sank to her knees while her next breath shuddered and clawed its way into her frozen lungs.
There was no changing the truth. No matter what she did, what risks she took, how far she pushed, nothing she did would bring back what she’d lost. Mother’s fierce spirit would forever be silenced. She’d never visit Father’s sunny chambers again and curl up against him while he soothed her.
Her head spun, and a tingling sensation spread through her limbs as the air in her lungs thinned.
How could she be strong when everyone she’d looked to for strength was gone?
She could no longer feel her hands as she pressed them against the floor, bracing her elbows as the ship shuddered and heaved. Lights danced at the edge of her vision, and the sound of the storm became muffled and faint.
“Charis!” A firm voice intruded on the gathering darkness within her mind and then something cold was shoved against the back of her neck.
Water dripped from the rag at her neck and slid down her spine. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped in a breath as she found Tal on his knees beside her, hovering anxiously as he pushed her head between her knees and pressed his cloth against her skin.
“I’m fine.” She meant to sound commanding, but her voice was weaker than Hildy’s tiny meow.
“Obviously.” He pulled the rag away from her neck, and she eyed him suspiciously.
He sat back on his heels and studied her.
She looked away.
The ship pitched to the right, and she slid into him. Instantly, he wrapped one arm around her and grabbed a table leg with the other, steadying them both.
“Don’t touch me.”
“If I let go of you, you’ll slide across the room until you hit the wall.” His voice rumbled in his chest, a sound so achingly familiar and so altogether infuriating.
“I’d rather hit the wall than lean on you.” She swallowed against the fist that was still closed around her throat.
“I know.” He held on as another wave slammed into the boat.
She tilted her head back so she could see his face and instantly regretted it. He was entirely focused on her, his brown eyes worried as he held her close, trying hard to shield her with his body. The ship slid sideways, and they hit the table, Tal’s shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.
He grimaced in pain but kept his grip on her.
Once upon a time, this would have been comforting. She could have leaned against him, safe and secure in the knowledge that no matter what came for her, he was at her back.
Now he was another piece of the world she’d lost, and nothing could change that either.
Her jaw went numb. It felt as if a horse was sitting on her chest, and it was impossible to move. Impossible to breathe.
The ship spun in the opposite direction, and Charis spun with it, limp as a rag doll. Tal strained to hold on to the table as he pulled her back to his side.
“Hey.” His voice was low against her ear. “Stay with me, Charis. I’m right here.”
But he wasn’t. Not really. His heart was in Montevallo, and it always had been.
She was utterly, impossibly alone.
“Take a breath, please.”
She couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Lights danced along her vision once more, and she welcomed them.
Let her fade into oblivion while the storm raged and keep her there until the wound inside her stitched itself back together.
Vaguely, she was aware that she was sliding across the mess hall and into the kitchen, only there was a pressure under her arms, as if she was being dragged. And then, without warning, a sharp, acidic odor was thrust beneath her nose.
The darkness parted, the lights at the edge of her vision vanished, and she was left sprawled across the kitchen floor, blinking up at Tal, who knelt beside her holding a rag soaked in vinegar to her nose.
“What are you—did you drag me?” She tried to sit up, but her head spun, and the room seemed unaccountably crooked.
“I pulled you. Vigorously.”
She pushed the rag away with trembling fingers and glared at him as if she was seated on her throne, not lying on the floor. “That’s the same thing.”
“We can argue semantics later.” He placed the rag at his feet. “First, let’s discuss why you were in the mess hall, alone, in the middle of a raging storm, when you’re obviously unwell.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not unwell.”
“Right. Because healthy people pass out twice in the space of five minutes.”
“I’m fine.” The lie fell from her lips with practiced ease, leaving bitterness in its wake. “Just got a little sick from the ship rolling around.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her the look that used to send little sparks of warmth racing through her blood. It was an invitation to match wits with him. To spar outside the practice arena, using nothing but her mind as her weapon.
Leaning forward, he said softly, “Liar.”
She bared her teeth. “You would know all about that.”
“Indeed I would.” He sounded pleased, as if she’d conceded a point.
She frowned.
“I know you’re lying, Charis, the same way I know you aren’t eating or sleeping. The same way I know you’re putting too much pressure on yourself and are in danger of collapsing.” His voice softened. “I know you’re lying, because I know you.”
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“No?” The ship rocked violently, and he grabbed her arm to keep her from hitting the cabinets. “Then tell me what’s changed.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“Why not?” he asked as if this was a perfectly reasonable question. As if he hadn’t betrayed her and broken her heart only two months ago.
She opened her mouth, snapped it shut, and glared at him as she struggled into a sitting position, her back against the cabinets.
“Do you think you have to be strong for me?” He tilted his head as if trying to figure her out.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not the one who passed out on the mess hall floor and then claimed I was fine, Your Majesty.”
“I didn’t—that’s not even—why are you still here?” Her voice rose. “Go back to Holland.” And seers curse him for making her wish she could ask him to stay so she wouldn’t be alone with the darkness inside her.
“And leave you to pass out again all by yourself? I think not.” He settled against the cabinet beside her, his shoulder touching hers.
They sat in silence for a long moment while the ship rocked and the winds howled, and then he said quietly, “You don’t have to be strong in front of me, Charis.”
She bit down hard, clenching her teeth as she swallowed the truth that rose to the surface.
Of all people, she had to be strongest in front of him because he alone had seen her at her weakest, and he’d buried a knife in her back.
“Breathe.” He reached for the vinegar rag as though worried she might lose consciousness again. She pushed his hand away, and as she drew in a jagged breath, the dam within her burst.
“You have a lot of nerve sitting next to me and pretending to care.” The words were sharp as a blade, and she hoped they sliced him to the bone. “I know you’re watching me. I can feel it. The first chance you get, you’ll run and tell your father everything you know about Calera’s situation, and if Alaric thinks we’re not strong enough to do what needs to be done, he’ll refuse to honor the treaty. Refuse to help us with his army. And then...”
“Then?” he asked gently, as if she hadn’t just wounded him, though she could see the pain in his eyes.
“Then it’s all gone. All of it!” Her voice rose, wild and fierce, and she turned on him with her fists ready, though he wasn’t putting up a fight. “Mother is gone. Father is... I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
A sob caught in her chest, and she hurled the last of it at him, the darkness spilling out of her with every word. “I have a kingdom of people depending on me to be strong enough and smart enough to make everything right, but nothing will ever be right again, will it? Because nothing I do will bring back who we’ve lost. And the worst of it is that Mother was telling the truth all along.”
“About what?” He brushed a hand against her skin as he gently tucked a curl behind her ear, but she barely noticed.
“There’s no one I can truly trust anymore. To rule is to be alone. And I am utterly, completely alone.”
Her voice broke, and she turned away as tears slid down her cheeks.
“Charis, I’m sorry.” He placed one warm hand against her back and waited. When she didn’t order him to stop, he kept it there. “I wish we’d both had a chance to say goodbye to your father. He was the best man I’ve ever known.”
Sobs shook Charis until it seemed she’d never stop. Dimly, she was aware of him anchoring her body next to his so that she wouldn’t slide with the movements of the ship. He whispered against her ear, but she couldn’t hold on to anything he said. There was nothing but the agony of missing Father and wishing she could turn back time and undo what was final.
When at last, her sobs quieted, she felt weary to the core. She leaned away from Tal, resting her head against the cabinets just to put distance between herself and the boy she’d just shown weakness to. She needed to do something about that, but right now it would take far too much energy, and her eyelids fluttered.
“You aren’t alone, Charis,” Tal said quietly, his voice aching with the same pain that lived within her. “I know it’s hard to see it, now, but I swear it’s true. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”
She wanted to tell him he’d already proven everything she needed to know the night he was revealed as a spy, but she was no longer sure that was the truth, and she was too tired to figure it out.
Instead, she rested her head against the cabinet and let her eyes close while the storm raged on, knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to her while she slept.