Twenty-Five
NIGHT SEEMED TO take forever to arrive.
All day long, Rakuuna guards patrolled the halls of the southern wing twice an hour, often stepping inside rooms to stare at the occupants for long, uncomfortable moments before moving on. It was unnerving feeling their large, black eyes on her, and she couldn’t afford for the guards to get used to seeing her in her suite’s sitting room when she planned to sneak out that evening, so she, Holland, and Tal had made a habit of going into their respective rooms and closing their doors, leaving Reuben alone on the sofa.
Besides Charis and her people, there were at least thirty people staying in the wing. The Everlys, eleven people Charis recognized as palace staff from her mother’s tenure, and quite a few others who were working as servants under Queen Bai’elsha, but whose faces Charis didn’t recognize.
Lady Everly appeared a bit frail—Charis supposed it was because she no longer had regular access to her medicine. Lord Everly, however, looked as dour and somber as ever, his words slow and careful as he assured her that he and Ferris had done their best to negotiate a favorable deal between Alaric and the Rakuuna, but that he, like his son, was deeply concerned over the requirement that all four Caleran heirs be present for the wedding and subsequent jewel payment.
Lord Everly had also echoed Charis’s concern that Nalani be apprised of her tenuous situation immediately so she could hide. Based on what Charis now knew about the Rakuuna, it would be enough for Nalani to move inland and stay with her father’s family. As long as she was more than a day’s journey from the coast, the Rakuuna would have difficulty hunting her.
However, there was nothing to stop the Rakuuna from destroying the people in the capital city of Ooverstaad, including Gareth and Vyllanthra, in their efforts to find Nalani. Which meant Charis needed her allies to assemble an armada and use the moriarthy dust to wipe out the Rakuuna in Calera as soon as possible.
Lord Everly also wanted a full accounting of Charis’s time away from Calera, but she’d kept the details to a minimum. The last thing she needed was for one of the other Calerans to learn about the moriarthy dust or the gathering armada and curry favor with the Rakuuna by reporting it to Queen Bai’elsha. Instead, Charis had assured the Everlys that Solvang had given asylum to their refugees, that Nalani was working on shoring up alliances with the other sea kingdoms, and that spreading news of Alaric’s potential treachery would at least give Charis some leverage she could use to negotiate with him when he arrived.
None of Calera’s allies would look kindly on a ruler who had gained not just a throne, but an entire kingdom through bloodshed and bad-faith agreements.
The Everlys had also agreed that making contact with Lord Thorsby and Lady Ollen was urgent, and so they’d hung one of Lady Everly’s pink handkerchiefs on the railing of her sitting room balcony as a signal to their contact that he needed to return that evening. Unfortunately, they’d insisted that Ferris should go along with them since he was more accustomed to navigating around Rakuuna patrols.
Charis considered pointing out that dodging scheduled, predictable guards within the palace was much different than navigating the dark streets of Arborlay after Queen Bai’elsha’s curfew, but what was the point? She had no energy for arguing. Everything in her was solely focused on escaping the palace, finding the rebellion’s headquarters, warning Nalani while also getting her Caleran allies ready to help her, and then returning to the palace before her absence was noticed the following morning.
She’d briefly considered not returning at all, but the Rakuuna had no respect for human lives. Queen Bai’elsha would torture and kill the other Calerans left behind as she hunted for clues to Charis’s whereabouts, and their blood wasn’t something Charis could stomach having on her hands.
When night finally arrived, Charis, Holland, Tal, and Ferris waited in her suite of rooms for the guards to complete their walk-through. All were dressed in dark pants, sweaters, and boots. Reuben stood off to the side, looking furious at Charis’s decision to exclude him from the outing. As soon as the Rakuuna left the wing, Ferris beckoned them into the hall.
“Remember the plan?” he asked, as if they might have forgotten the details they’d been discussing all day.
“Go to the parlor at the end of the wing, ride the dumbwaiter down to the servants’ hallway, take the back stairs up to the third floor and climb out the balcony of the seventh room.” Holland moved through the door before he was finished speaking. “Let’s go before the guards do another sweep of the palace. We know the schedule for this wing. We don’t know the schedule for anywhere else.”
“Your Majesty.” Reuben placed a hand on her arm before she could follow Holland. “For the last time, I must protest. I should go in your stead. Or if you won’t allow that, I should go with you.”
Charis pulled her arm free of his grasp. What if Lord Thorsby or Lady Ollen were lying like Lady Channing had been? What if they were working with King Alaric? Charis had to see their faces when she spoke to them. It was the only way she could be reasonably sure. “You can protect me by staying here. If you’re gone, and the Rakuuna check on me, they’ll immediately know that I’m gone, too. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
Before he could say another word, she moved into the hall, followed immediately by Tal.
The dumbwaiter was tucked into the wall behind a cupboard door decorated with a trio of painted birds resting on a thesserin branch. It was a square the size of a carriage door, just large enough for a full-grown human to crouch on their hands and knees, which meant they spent nearly ten minutes slowly sending their party of four down the servants’ hallway, one person at a time. From there, they raced to the narrow staircase at the end of the hall and climbed two sets of stairs as quietly as possible.
For once, neither Holland nor Ferris said a word.
Once they reached the third floor, they found themselves in an abandoned wing of guest suites. Quickly they made their way into the seventh room, crossed the tiny sitting area, and opened the door that led out to a balcony overlooking the palace courtyard. Charis was about to order Ferris to make the small leap into the cradle of the closest thesserin tree, when a shadow unpeeled itself from the wall beside the balcony’s door, sending her heart crashing in her chest.
“My lords, my lady,” the shadow whispered, stepping closer so that in the faint moonlight, Charis could see the shape of a man with a narrow face, a long nose, and a mustache the size of a large mouse spread across his upper lip. “My name is Mason. I got the message that you needed an escort through the city. Where are we going?”
“The merchant district,” Charis said. “Northwest side.”
He nodded. “Stay quiet. The courtyard patrol is about to pass. Give them five minutes to turn the corner and move away from us, and then we’ll head out.”
Charis pressed her body against the wall and watched the tall, lithe shadows of two Rakuuna guards move across the courtyard. Her pulse beat wildly, and her hands trembled as she double-checked that the small satchel of moriarthy dust was tied securely to her waist.
This was madness.
If they got caught, they might be killed. At the very least, they’d be thrown into the palace dungeons. But Nalani’s life was at stake, and Charis needed to put her plan into action if Calera was to be saved.
Five minutes crept by with agonizing slowness, punctuated by the occasional cry from a night hawk and the soft shush of fabric brushing against stone when one of their party readjusted themselves against the balcony wall.
When the Rakuuna had long since rounded the far corner of the palace, Tal turned to her, his hand outstretched. “It’s time. Ready?”
Charis hesitated for a moment, waiting to feel rage or pain at the sight. Instead, the small, warm light Tal had once lit in her heart burned steadily—the beginning of a new, fragile friendship between them.
She took his hand.
“Ready.”
“You were right, Holland.” Ferris moved past Charis and climbed the railing. “It is nauseating.”
“I’m always right. Do make sure your foot doesn’t slip,” Holland said cheerfully. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Keep your voices down,” Mason whispered. “And move quickly.”
The chilly air smelled of the woodsmoke that drifted lazily into the night sky from chimneys across the city. It had rained that afternoon, and the stone balcony was still damp. Once Ferris and Mason had climbed down the tree, Tal, Holland, and Charis approached the railing.
“You first,” Holland said, gesturing at Charis.
“Be careful,” Tal said, giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “The bark is wet.”
“I can manage.” She climbed over the railing and reached for the closest branch, dimly aware that Tal was holding on to the back of her sweater. Once she was securely in the tree’s cradle, she shimmied down the trunk and strained to hear any sound from the Rakuuna patrol while she waited for Tal and Holland to descend.
The instant everyone reached the courtyard, Mason started moving, trusting them to follow. The sister moons were directly overhead, partially shrouded by clouds, their ghostly blue light lending a faint glow to the stones beneath their feet.
The oil lanterns that used to be lit around the palace at night no longer burned. Maybe the Rakuuna could see well at night without them. The thought sent a chill down Charis’s spine.
All the more reason to get off the palace grounds and into the city proper as fast as possible.
Moving quickly, they skirted the edge of the courtyard, heading west, keeping to the line of thesserin trees and the dubious coverage their bare branches allowed. When they reached the edge of the courtyard, Mason brought their group to a halt. Charis waited, every muscle coiled with tension.
What if there was a patrol on the rooftop?
The instant they left the protection of the thesserin trees, they’d be exposed.
“Move quickly but silently.” Mason’s voice was grim. “The patrol will be close, and we can’t afford to give ourselves away.”
Charis’s stomach twisted as she took one step into the courtyard, then another, feeling utterly exposed. The dim blue light of the sister moons, which moments ago had seemed nothing but a faint shine in the darkness, now felt like a torchlight illuminating her every move.
Another three steps. Five.
On the sixth step, Ferris’s boot slid against the gritty, damp stone, a loud screech of leather against rock. He froze.
Mason, however, didn’t. “If anyone is close, they’ll have heard that. Run.”
They took off, sprinting across the exposed space. Charis tried to run lightly, her focus entirely on the overgrown garden that flanked the far edge of the courtyard. If they could make it inside the arched, vine-covered entrance before the patrol came, they’d be out of sight.
From somewhere over her left shoulder, the high, undulating cry of a Rakuuna rose, piercing the night and sending a rush of cold fear through Charis’s veins.
She pushed herself to run faster.
An answering cry came from the right.
Were they coordinating their attack? Alerting other guards to chase them down?
The courtyard had never felt so vast.
She raced under the archway just behind Mason, ripping at the vines that tangled in her hair, and whirled to face the courtyard. Tal skidded to a stop beside her, his breath coming quickly. Holland and Ferris lunged beneath the archway and stopped beside Mason. All five of them stared at the courtyard, bodies tensed to run again.
For a long, agonizing moment, they waited, sure they’d been discovered. The wind whispered through the vines and rattled twigs along the garden path. The palace sat, still and silent, bathed in moonlight.
Charis turned to Tal and whispered, “I think we’re—”
A scream tore through the night, raw and brutal.
Tal stepped in front of Charis, though he had no weapon.
“That was human,” she said softly.
“Someone got caught breaking curfew.” Mason’s voice was nothing more than a breath. “Stay quiet.”
Another undulating cry rose, this time from farther away, followed by the unmistakable dry rattle of Rakuuna talking to each other. Charis’s breath clogged her throat as the patrol rounded the corner and entered the courtyard.
Tal remained in front of her, body positioned to take the brunt of an attack, but the pair of Rakuuna never looked at the tangled, overgrown garden at the far edge of the courtyard. Charis swallowed against the dryness in her mouth as the pair seemed to take forever to walk that side of the palace and eventually turn the corner.
The instant they were out of sight, Holland said, “Someone got hurt.”
“Or killed.” Mason turned toward the garden path. “We need to get off these grounds before we’re next. There’s a gap between bushes two minutes east of here. We can use the orchard for cover as we move toward the road. Let’s go.”
Nearly an hour later, after silently creeping through the gardens—which, by the state of things, had been untended since the invasion—and carefully moving through the orchard, hugging one tree after another to blend in with the shadows, they reached the road that led into the city.
“Stick to the shadows,” Mason whispered, though they were already doing so.
The streets of Arborlay were eerily still. No torchlights were lit, giving more credence to the idea that the Rakuuna could see well in the dark. Starshine glittered against windowpanes, and porch timbers creaked as the breeze kicked up, tearing at Charis’s clothing and slapping damp air against her cheeks.
The bakery was deep into the merchant district. They’d been walking for nearly thirty minutes, trying hard to stay pressed against buildings, listening intently for any signs of Rakuuna. Tal consistently put his body between hers and the street beyond, while Holland walked two steps behind them, ready to face any opponent that came at their backs. Mason and Ferris walked in front, sometimes talking in low voices that never reached Charis’s ears, sometimes moving in silence.
She found herself falling into rhythm with Tal, at once new and achingly familiar. Him protecting her with no thought to himself. Her matching her movements to his, syncing up with his steps, his speed, and the cadence of his breathing.
They were two blocks from the bakery when a haunting cry rose from somewhere on their left.
As the cry was still rising in pitch, Tal pivoted. “We need to hide.”
“Go low or go high, but get off the street,” Mason whispered as he and Ferris raced to climb one of the thick, sturdy oak trees lining the street.
Charis had no interest in being that exposed. Quickly, she scanned their surroundings and then pointed to a raised wooden porch on a cobbler’s shop two stores ahead of them. “There.”
Without another word, Charis, Tal, and Holland ran, sprinting from one building to the next, while behind them, the Rakuuna’s alert hit fever pitch and began to fall. Another cry sounded, this one from somewhere ahead. It sounded as if it had come from the street they were on.
It was too late to choose another location to hide.
If they’d been seen already, their lives could be measured in seconds. All that was left was to pray as they hurtled toward the porch. Gaps between the boards surrounding it were barely wide enough for Charis to shimmy through. She reached it, grabbed the edges of the boards, and launched herself into the darkness beneath, landing on her hands and knees. Tal tried to follow but got stuck partway through.
Whirling, Charis grabbed his hands, planted her feet, and pulled with everything she had. For a moment, nothing happened, and she tugged even harder.
He slid forward with such force, he slammed into her and sent her flat on her back, his body landing heavily on top of her. Holland launched himself through the opening, his momentum sending him crashing onto the two of them.
The air left Charis’s lungs, and she gasped. Immediately she covered her mouth with her hands, while Holland rolled to one side and Tal rolled to the other, his hair brushing against her face as he went.
Rakuuna voices drifted down the street, and Charis froze as the sound crept closer.
Tal pressed his body next to hers, anchoring himself between her and the outside world. As the slap of footsteps reached their ears, she fumbled through the dark until she found his hand. Lacing her fingers through his, she squeezed her eyes closed and prayed that this wasn’t the end.
She wanted to restore her kingdom.
She wanted to bury her parents and say a proper goodbye.
She wanted to explore this new flame within her battered heart.
The steps paused just shy of the porch.
Every breath felt too loud. Every heartbeat a drumroll announcing her presence to the predator outside.
The dirt beneath her was cold and unforgiving, and the darkness played tricks with her, tempting her to believe something else was entering the gap between porch boards.
She forced herself to think of nothing but the feel of Tal’s hand in hers. The roughness of his fingertips and the steady cadence of his breath as he pressed himself to her side. The way she fit against him as though he’d never left.
On her other side, Holland was so quiet, he seemed to be holding his breath.
The footsteps started up again, and a shrill cry rent the air.
Had they found Ferris and Mason?
Tal’s hand tightened on hers, but the Rakuuna were receding. Searching other streets for anyone foolish enough to violate curfew.
As the noise faded into silence, Charis became exquisitely aware of the warmth of Tal’s body and the heat of his breath fanning the side of her neck.
Softly, he said, “Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better.” Holland stretched, and a popping sound came from his back. “What did I land on?”
“Me.” Charis and Tal spoke simultaneously.
“Ugh.” Holland began scooting toward the gap between boards. “Let’s never speak of this again.”
Tal shifted his weight, and his mouth brushed against her ear.
She shivered.
“Are you all right?” He breathed the words against her skin.
She nodded, not trusting her voice, and scooted toward the hole between porch boards. “We should get going.”
He squeezed her hand once and then let go so he could follow her back onto the street.