Twenty-Two
RAIN SWEPT THE streets of Arborlay in silvery sheets as Charis, Holland, Tal, and Grim rode in the carriage provided by the Rakuuna guards who’d greeted the ship at the dock. Burk, the other surviving Caleran crew member, followed in a separate carriage with Reuben, who was clearly worried that he was needed beside his queen.
Charis recognized the boy who drove her carriage. Before the invasion he’d been a groom in training at the palace. She’d tried to make eye contact with him, but he’d stared at his boots, his shoulders hunched against the rain.
Was he still willing to be loyal to the true heirs of Calera’s throne, even if it meant risking his life? Or was the fact that he worked for the Rakuuna proof that he’d refused to join the rebellion?
“Good to know those monsters are still afraid of horses,” Grim said from his place beside Tal. His freckled forehead seemed permanently wrinkled in a frown as he peered out the carriage window. “Can’t even drive the carriages.”
Charis glanced out the window and shuddered at the sight of a trio of tall Rakuuna guards walking a short distance away from the vehicle, clearly keeping pace with the cargo inside while still remaining safely away from the horses. Their too-long limbs moved in graceful tandem. Every few steps, their black eyes would flick toward the carriage, as though making sure the humans inside hadn’t tried to escape.
Beyond the creatures, the hazy outline of Arborlay’s buildings was a dark smudge through the curtain of rain. Charis leaned closer and drank in the sight, somehow feeling more homesick now that she was back in her kingdom than she had at sea.
There, just past the line of warehouses that hugged the dock, were the elegant lines of the merchant sector, their shops closed now due to the weather. Thesserin trees bent before the wind, their slender branches stripped of their golden leaves. And in the distance, just visible in the shifting light of the storm, the narrow steeple of the seers’ temple pierced the iron-gray sky.
“Maybe we can make a run for the palace stables.” Holland leaned forward as if he planned to leap into action. “I’ll tell the coachman to keep going—”
“If the simple act of riding horses was enough to overthrow our enemies, don’t you think the people here would’ve already done it?” Tal’s voice was sharp. Charis tore her gaze from the window. His hands were clenched into fists.
He was scared.
“I don’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas, impostor.” Holland swept his hair out of his face, a quick, impatient movement that usually meant his mood was balanced precariously on a knife’s edge.
He was scared, too.
She couldn’t blame them. The thought of facing the Rakuuna queen made her feel as though snakes were squirming in the pit of her stomach. There was nothing Charis could do about her own situation beyond hoping she could somehow convince the queen she was more useful to her alive than publicly executed to put an end to the rebellion. However, Tal should have nothing to worry about, and if Charis could convince Holland to lie for once in his life, he could be safe, too.
Abandoning the temptation to stare at her rain-soaked city, she reached for the icy control that usually had people rushing to do what she asked. “All of you need to take a deep breath and stop looking like you’re about to face your own beheading. We can’t go into the palace like whipped dogs afraid of our fates. I’m the one the queen needs to kill. If you each do exactly as I say, you’ll be safe.” She hoped.
Three pairs of eyes swiveled to meet hers. Grim seemed confused. Holland was clearly offended. And Tal looked furious.
Charis ignored their expressions. “Grim, once you leave the carriage, speak nothing but Montevallian and stick close to Tal. Have Dec do the same. It will be clear that you’re his guards, and that you aren’t Caleran.”
Before he could reply, she turned to Holland. “You can either use your Solvanish family’s last name and pretend to be an envoy from Solvang sent to supervise my trip to the northern kingdoms—”
“You want me to act like a diplomat?” His lips curled into a sneer.
“Or you can speak your best Montevallian and pretend to be one of Tal’s guards. Either way, as long as the Rakuuna queen doesn’t realize you’re my heir, you’ll be safe. If the captain who took us tells her I said my entire crew was related to me, I’ll tell her he didn’t understand enough Caleran to translate my words properly.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but she was already turning toward Tal. “And you have nothing to worry about.”
“Really?” His tone matched his furious expression.
“If the Rakuuna wanted you dead, you’d be dead already. It doesn’t serve the queen to kill you when doing so would jeopardize her ability to get your father to give her the serpanicite she wants. You’ll be safe.”
“Safe.” He threw the word at her.
“Yes. Safe.” She turned back to the window. If this was her last trip through Arborlay, she didn’t want to miss a single chimney, window box, or cobblestone.
“Do you want to explain reality to her, or should I?” Tal asked.
“You can have that pleasure.” Holland sounded like he had the night his mother had insisted he dance with at least seven girls before slinking off to the palace armory to admire the Willowthorns’ cache of weapons. “But I want it noted that being aligned with you is highly uncomfortable for me, and I’d appreciate it if we could go back to being sworn enemies at our earliest convenience.”
“Of course,” Tal said.
Charis ignored them. The road curved gently before beginning its steady ascent to the distant palace. She didn’t have much time left. Either she was going to talk her way out of this, or she was going to die. She’d thought there would be a small measure of peace at the thought of silencing the ruin within her and leaving this mess for others to clean up. But there was nothing but the frantic thudding of her heart and a desperate desire to stay alive, even though it hurt.
The carriage creaked as someone opposite her adjusted themselves—she didn’t look to see if it was Grim or Tal. As the carriage rounded another bend in the road, the white stone palace with its narrow turrets and tall windows came into view.
Charis’s hands began to shake.
Something creaked again, and then Tal was on his knees in front of her, his brown eyes finding hers and holding.
She frowned and drew back, but he didn’t reach for her. Instead he said with quiet intensity, “We aren’t worried about our own safety, Charis. We’re scared of losing you.”
Her throat tightened, and she glanced sideways to find Holland glaring at her. He made another impatient gesture and said, “Obviously.”
“You don’t have to—that’s very... It’s not good strategy to prioritize me.” She looked back at Tal and found him leaning close in a way that used to make something warm and tender bloom within her. Now it made her heart beat a little faster.
“Not good strategy?” Holland’s voice rose. “Well then, that takes care of it. How foolish of us to care about you when, strategically, we ought to turn our loyalty to someone else.”
“You should!” She turned to him, grateful to avoid Tal’s gaze, which had gone from furious to wounded. “I will either survive my encounter with the Rakuuna queen, or I won’t. Nothing you do now will change that. The fate of Calera is what truly matters, and that deserves all your focus.”
“No.” Holland sounded mutinous.
“We can care about both.” Tal’s voice was gentle as he took her cold, shaking hands in his and squeezed gently. When she whipped around to face him, he held her gaze, waiting, clearly ready to let go of her if that’s what she wanted.
It should be what she wanted. He’d broken her heart and betrayed her trust. Leaning on him for comfort before facing her enemy was exactly the sort of weakness Mother had tried so hard to stamp out of her daughter. She stiffened and reached for the cold rage that she’d always associated with Mother.
This time there was nothing but the growing ache within and the memory of Father’s blue eyes lighting up when he talked to Tal.
Father had trusted Tal. More than that, he’d loved him. And while Father hadn’t been half the political strategist Mother was, he’d been an excellent judge of what mattered most to him: people’s hearts.
He’d thought Tal had a good heart.
And if Charis was honest, so did she. Despite the pain, the betrayal, and the loss of trust, she believed Tal when he said he hadn’t shared personal details with his father. She believed him when he said he’d shown her who he truly was, even if he’d lied about his name.
It didn’t heal the wound he’d dealt her, but it did stem the bleeding. And right now, about to face the enemy queen with nothing but her wits to keep herself alive, Charis couldn’t force herself to refuse the comfort of those who cared about her fate.
When she didn’t pull away, Tal’s grip firmed. As the carriage drove into the palace’s inner courtyard and turned onto the semicircle drive that would take them to the entrance, he said with quiet intensity, “I’ve watched you manipulate a room full of contentious nobles into doing exactly what you want while believing it’s their own idea. I’ve seen you turn grown men into quivering fools. And I witnessed you terrify an assassin into telling you the truth with nothing but the threat of what you might do when you left her cell. The Rakuuna have a physical advantage here, but no one can outthink you.”
“He’s right.” Holland bumped his shoulder against hers as the carriage slowed. “You’re as smart as your mother, and you can be just as scary when you want to be.”
Charis swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth. “They’re monsters.”
“They’re political opponents who want something. Figure out how to use that against them, and you’ll have the leverage you need.” Tal leaned closer, until his breath fanned the chilled skin of her hands. “Nobody uses leverage better than you, Charis.”
Her thoughts felt as slippery as vapor as the carriage creaked to a stop. She didn’t know how to convince the Rakuuna queen of anything. Nothing about their invasion made sense. Destroying Calera just to put pressure on Alaric in Montevallo wasn’t a viable strategy, no matter how often Charis examined it.
The air in her lungs thinned, and lights danced at the edge of her vision.
She had no leverage. No trick up her sleeve she could pull when the timing was right. She had nothing but the hope that she could deflect attention away from Holland and the rest of her crew and somehow talk her way out of an execution.
“You’re going to be all right.” Tal’s voice was fierce as he let go of her hands and hauled her against his chest instead. He pressed his cheek to the crown of her head. “Remember who you are. Be everything your mother trained you to be.”
A loud, haunting cry rose from the courtyard as one of the Rakuuna who’d escorted the carriage announced their arrival. Charis dragged in a thin, shaky breath and leaned against the solid warmth of Tal’s chest.
She could despise herself for this weakness later—if she was still alive.
“You know how to make yourself invaluable to the Rakuuna.” Tal pulled back slowly as their coachman dismounted from his perch. “If nothing else, they should keep you alive just so that my father will pay the ransom to ensure there’s still a marriage treaty that allows Vahn to sit on Calera’s throne.”
“Calera only has one throne.” The words were a reflex. Muscle memory from years of Mother’s rigid expectations. Yet as soon as they left her lips, a flicker of rage kindled to life in the corner of her heart again.
“And whose throne is it?” Tal’s eyes burned into hers, his expression fierce.
Her spine straightened. Her chin lifted. The rage within burned brighter, and somehow that made it easier to breathe.
“Whose throne is it?” Tal repeated.
She imagined a crown on her head as she stood over the bodies of her enemies. “Mine.”
The door was wrenched open, and a long, scaly arm reached into the carriage, wrapped around Charis’s hand, and yanked her forward. Tal yelled, and Holland lunged for the doorway as though planning to fight the creature, but the Rakuuna was faster and stronger. She pulled Charis into the courtyard and began dragging her up the steps to the palace.
“I can walk.” Charis drew herself upright with the dignity befitting Calera’s queen.
The Rakuuna chattered at her in their language, and Charis laughed with every ounce of viciousness she possessed. When the creature paused at the top of the steps to stare at Charis, black eyes unblinking, Charis reached out and deliberately peeled the monster’s fingers away from her hand, one talon at a time.
“A queen does not enter her palace like a criminal.” Her tone was polished marble.
Let them kill her. Let them sear her name into the mind and heart of her people so that she would forever be the battle cry that roused every Caleran from their slumber and sent them racing toward their enemies with fire in their bellies. Let them believe her death would end the rebellion instead of igniting it into a firestorm they had no hope of containing.
Charis would face every second of her fate like the queen she was born to be.
“It comes with us,” the creature hissed, reaching for her hand again.
Charis slapped the Rakuuna’s face.
The creature recoiled, chattering rapidly, but Charis ignored her as she swept into the palace, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge as she braced for the retaliation sure to come.
“I’ve come to see your queen,” she announced to a Rakuuna who stood just inside the door, his pale skin dotted with silvery gray scales. “Where is she?”
Behind her, the Rakuuna she’d struck was still chattering, and others were joining in. Perhaps urging her to retaliate? Perhaps warning her that only the queen got the pleasure of killing Charis?
Either way, their focus was wholly on her and not on the rest of her people.
Silently willing Holland, Tal, and Grim to instruct the others on what to say to put distance between themselves and the idea that they were part of her bloodline, Charis glared at the Rakuuna who stood before her.
“Where is she? Or should I simply search the palace myself?”
His pale lips curved into a snarl, revealing his double row of fangs. “No queen,” he said in heavily accented Caleran.
Charis blinked, her thoughts racing. No queen? Was she gone from Calera? Or simply not at the palace right now?
“Too late.”
“Is she dead? My condolences.” Her words were spun sugar dipped in venom.
The Rakuuna made a sound that reminded Charis of the howling wind in a snowstorm. It took a moment to realize he was laughing. The sound sent a chill down her spine.
“She is not the queen who dies,” he said. He turned to gesture for someone behind him to come forward. “The day is too late. You see our queen tomorrow.”
Charis glanced at the wall of windows that graced the entrance hall. Rain still fell in thick sheets, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Still, it looked darker than it had before. She’d lost track of time completely in the ship’s brig. If it was twilight, the Rakuuna queen would want to wait until the storm passed and there was enough light that the audience she would surely compel to attend Charis’s execution got a good look at the symbol of their rebellion before she died.
“Tomorrow.” The Rakuuna smiled at her as though she was a delicacy offered on a buffet table to a slew of ravenous beasts. “Take her.” He stepped aside to reveal a woman with dark red hair, a disheveled apron across her palace maid uniform, and a bruise blooming along her left cheekbone.
The maid scurried forward, chin tucked toward her collarbone as though anticipating a blow, and whispered, “Please come with me.”
Charis went. There would be no getting information from the Rakuuna in the entrance hall, and he might punish the maid for any defiance on Charis’s part.
The maid remained silent, moving so quickly that Charis had to lengthen her stride to keep up. They moved down the main corridor, past the ballroom, up one set of stairs, and then followed a curved corridor until they reached the southern wing, the one Mother had always reserved for guests.
Rakuuna were everywhere. Lingering in hallways. Standing on the stairs. Posted outside the door leading to the southern wing’s suite of rooms.
There would be no escape through the palace.
The maid escorted her past the Rakuuna guards and down the hallway, to the fifth door on the left. Behind her, the rest of her people were being herded into the hallway as well. Tal and Reuben immediately rushed to Charis’s side. Holland took one look at the room a different maid offered to him, Dec, Grim, and Burk and joined Charis as well.
“Thank you,” Charis said to the maid beside her, keeping her voice low so the guards standing just outside the wing’s entrance couldn’t hear her. “How many humans are working in the palace? And do you know how to get in contact with any of my mother’s royal council members?”
If she could find a way to send Lord Thorsby a message, she could make sure the rebellion connected with Nalani and saw this fight through to the bitter end.
A whisper of sound came from the guards, and the maid quickly shook her head. Flinging the door open, she ushered them inside, lit a lamp resting on a table just inside the entrance, and then rushed from the room, closing the door behind them without saying another word.
Charis stood for a long moment, shoulders stiff, body braced, while Tal and Holland hurried to light sconces along the walls of what turned out to be a suite of three rooms with a small sitting area and bath chamber. Reuben assigned himself the couch in the sitting area where he could watch the door in case anyone came for Charis. Holland and Tal each took a small bedroom, leaving Charis with the larger room at the back of the suite.
She told them she was too tired to have a lengthy discussion about their situation and ordered them all to get some sleep. And then she shut the door to her room with shaking hands, moved to her bedside, and collapsed to her knees, burying her face in the soft coverlet atop her bed.
She was back home in familiar territory.
She had a group of loyal Calerans rebelling against the enemy.
She had a supply of moriarthy dust somewhere out at sea.
And she had no idea how to use any of it to convince the Rakuuna queen to keep her alive.