Twenty-Six
THE TWO-STORY TEAROOM and bakery was nestled between a bookbinder’s shop and a store selling sewing notions. Ferris and Mason were waiting at the mouth of the alley, pressed against a tree. They joined Charis, Tal, and Holland in silence. The scent of sugared icing and yeast bread hung in the air as Charis’s group approached the back door. Clouds drifted across the sister moons, making it difficult to see in the narrow alleyway that cut between shops.
Charis wasn’t convinced the lack of moonlight would affect the Rakuuna’s vision the way it did hers. Every second she spent outside felt like exposing her neck to a sharpened blade.
They’d nearly reached the bakery’s door when a shadow detached itself from the stairwell, and a quiet male voice said, “Who goes there?”
Holland stepped in front of the group and answered softly. “Her Majesty, Queen Charis Willowthorn, requests an audience with those inside.”
The shadowy figure froze, then said, “Right. The queen is just wandering the streets after curfew. Listen, go on back to wherever you came from. Nothing special going on here anyway. Just me and my workers baking bread for the morrow.”
Holland glanced back at Charis, and she moved to his side. The tension in the man’s body belied the forced casual tone of his voice. He was lying, which meant he had something to hide. Relief turned her knees weak. She’d found the resistance. Her kingdom could still be saved.
“We’ve taken great risk to come here tonight,” Charis said softly. “Perhaps we could simply step inside for a cup of tea before our journey back to the palace?”
“Wasn’t expecting company.” The man shifted his feet, blocking the door at his back.
Charis clenched her jaw. Was there a secret phrase she was supposed to know to gain entrance? It was too dark for the man to see her clearly, and he obviously hadn’t recognized her voice. What else could she do to convince him that she was truly Calera’s queen and meant them no harm?
“Now, you listen here, you flour-dusted fool.” Ferris managed to sound both imperious and desperate. “How dare you leave us standing on the street where we could get killed by the Rakuuna—”
“Enough, Ferris.” Charis kept her voice low. “He’s right to be cautious.”
“I might have a solution,” Tal said, sounding calm and agreeable. “Perhaps you could ask one of your more senior workers to come to the door for a moment? He’s a fussy man, always wears a handkerchief in his breast pocket, though usually he’s busy using it to wipe his forehead. He’s known the queen since she was a child. He’ll recognize her.”
Charis looked from Tal to the man in the shadows. If Lord Thorsby was indeed here, this was a risk worth taking. If he wasn’t, there was no chance the sentry would allow them in now.
The man considered Tal for a long moment, and then said, “No one here matches that description.”
Again, he was lying.
Charis stepped forward. “I appreciate the difficult position we’ve put you in. Would you be willing to deliver a message from me to your most senior worker?”
He stared at her in silence.
“Ten years ago, when I was seven, I once borrowed my mother’s wax and royal seal and stamped it all over the finalized draft of a trade agreement with Morg because I thought it looked pretty.” Charis lowered her voice as a sound from a nearby street echoed into the night. “Your worker found it before my mother did and spent hours redoing the document without ever telling her what I’d done. Only the two of us know about that incident. Tell him that story, and he’ll know for certain that I am who I say I am.”
For a moment, the man did nothing but stare at her. Finally, he said, “Wait here. Times being what they are, my sword hand gets real twitchy if anyone tries to enter my property without permission.”
“We won’t move from this spot,” Tal said.
They remained silent as the man ducked inside the bakery, locking the door behind him. Something skittered along the rooftop across the alley. Tal and Holland both pivoted to put themselves between her and the noise. From the mouth of the alley, four buildings down, the rattling sound of Rakuuna speaking to each other drifted through the air.
The hair on the back of Charis’s neck rose. She couldn’t see the patrol, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see her.
And while she had a small chance of the Rakuuna at the palace recognizing who she was and deeming her too valuable to kill yet, the city patrol had never set eyes on her. She’d be treated to the same body-breaking consequences as the rest of her people who were caught out after curfew.
Moving slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Charis stepped back to press herself against the cold brick wall of the bakery beside Ferris and Mason.
The sound of the Rakuuna patrol came closer.
They’d turned down the alley.
There was nowhere to run. No time to hide. She was going to have to either fight or somehow convince the patrol that she was valuable to their queen.
Holland and Tal spun to face the threat.
The chattering between the Rakuuna guards stopped abruptly, and Charis’s mouth turned to dust as one of them raised the alert, a high-pitched, undulating cry that sent a shaft of pain through her head and nearly brought her to her knees.
“Run,” Tal said firmly. “I’ll give you time to find a place to hide.”
Ferris and Mason were already sliding along the wall as if they meant to dive between buildings and flee.
“No.” Her voice shook, but a fire burned in her heart. These monsters had taken enough from her. She couldn’t outrun them. They weren’t going to take her life while she fled like a coward and left Tal to die.
She wouldn’t pound on the bakery’s door and ask them to let her in, either. The Rakuuna couldn’t discover where Lady Ollen and Lord Thorsby were organizing the rebellion.
“This is not the time to argue, Charis, run.” Tal’s voice was desperate.
Holland rolled to the balls of his feet.
Behind them, the bakery door swung open, releasing a gush of warm, sugarcoated air, and a man’s voice, sounding utterly annoyed, said, “Oy! Break time’s over. Get back in here and help us finish. These tea cakes don’t bake themselves.”
The Rakuuna alert abruptly dropped into silence, and then, from the darkness, a cold, lilting voice said, “It works here?”
“Yes, geniuses, they work here. Your queen ordered a tremendous number of pastries for the upcoming wedding feast. An order like that takes a large crew working nights.” The man stepped onto the back stoop, snatched Charis’s arm in his, and dragged her into the bakery. Glancing back at the others, he snapped, “I swear, if you don’t hurry up and get your aprons back on, I will turn you into a pie.”
Tal quickly entered the bakery, followed by Holland, Ferris, and finally Mason. The baker slammed and locked the door. Charis drew in a shuddering breath and stared at the lock, expecting the Rakuuna patrol to tear the door from its hinges at any moment. The door remained closed.
“The person you wanted to see is down in the basement. Stairs are at the end of the kitchen to your left.” The baker picked up a bowl and a whisk. Delicious scents wafted from the nearby ovens. “I’ll keep watch up here while I work.”
Mason and Ferris exchanged glances and began moving toward the stairs.
There was a big difference between trusting someone to guide her through the dangerous city streets and giving him a front row seat to her secrets. Quickly, Charis said, “Ferris, I’d like you and Mason to keep watch with—what’s your name?” She looked at the baker.
“Rames, Your Majesty.”
“Keep watch with Rames. Use the time to locate multiple escape routes out of this building if necessary.”
Ferris looked as if she’d ordered him to scrub the floor of a bath chamber. “Keeping watch is for underlings.”
“Nobody with any class uses the word underlings.” Holland brushed past Ferris on his way to the stairs.
Charis moved to Ferris’s side. There was no time for Ferris’s sense of entitlement, but shaming him in front of others wouldn’t accomplish her goal half as quickly as simply making him feel important.
“I need someone I can trust to watch our backs. I’ve only just met Rames. I’ll fill you in on anything important once we return to the palace.”
Ferris glanced once more at Mason and then dipped his head respectfully. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t stay up here all night gawking at the pastries.” Lady Ollen’s brisk voice cut through the air from the far side of the kitchen.
“Lady Ollen!” Charis walked across the tile floor toward the noblewoman, skirting a long trestle table laden with bowls of rising bread dough resting beneath tea towels.
Lady Ollen swept into a deep curtsy, her dress billowing out around her plump figure, her gray hair shining in the muted lamplight. “Your Majesty, we are at your service.”
“Thank you, Lady Ollen.” Charis took the woman’s hands in hers and smiled. “Your loyalty is without question.”
“Which is more than I can say for some. Shall we talk?” She nodded toward the stairwell behind her. It was tucked into a corner, beside a large shelf full of flour bags and jars of sugar. Charis, Tal, and Holland followed her down the narrow wooden staircase.
The basement was easily the size of Charis’s bedroom and sitting room combined. There were barrels lining one wall and a stack of old tables and chairs near the far corner. Additional tables, chairs, and sleeping pallets were scattered across the scarred wooden floor. The wall beside the stairway was entirely devoted to storing stacks of plates and saucers, along with several rows of spare teacups. Three dusty lanterns burned bright, lending a soft, golden glow to the space.
Two people were asleep. Three others sat at a table, huddled over a small stack of papers. At the closest table, Lord Jamison Thorsby, Mother’s chief advisor and head of the royal council, sat nursing a cup of tea. Even in these conditions, his dress coat and cravat looked immaculate.
“Lord Thorsby!” Charis rushed forward.
He leaped from his chair, nearly spilling his tea. “Your Majesty!” He bowed.
“I’m so glad to see you safe and sound.” Charis grasped his arm as he fished a silk handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed his eyes.
“And I, you, Your Majesty. We’d hoped for your return, and we spoke about it as a certainty to keep people’s spirits high, but to actually see you here... I’m overcome. Forgive me.” He waved a hand at his face as he tried to stop the tears.
“A Rakuuna patrol saw us.” Holland moved into the room and plopped himself down in the chair beside Thorsby’s. “Rames pretended we were workers on a break, but we should make this quick.”
“We’ll need to find a safe place for Her Majesty to stay.” Lady Ollen looked around the room. “She certainly can’t sleep on the floor. Besides, if the patrol saw such a large group entering the bakery, this won’t be a safe hiding place much longer.”
“No need to find places for us to stay. We’re going back to the palace.” She patted Lord Thorsby’s arm and then sank into the closest chair. Tal immediately stationed himself beside her, silent and watchful.
“Are you certain that’s wise?” Lord Thorsby sounded faint as he settled into his chair.
“If we don’t, the Rakuuna will tear through the city hunting for us, and I’m not willing to be responsible for those deaths.”
“Is that Ferris Everly I saw upstairs in the kitchen?” Lady Ollen asked.
“Yes, more’s the pity,” Holland said.
“Does Lord Everly send any news?” Lady Ollen perched on the edge of a chair and leaned toward Charis. “They’ve been living in the palace since the morning after the invasion. Made to work for the Rakuuna, is my understanding.”
Lord Thorsby looked to Charis. “The Rakuuna knew they needed to obliterate the leadership in Arborlay immediately if they were going to take the country in a single night. They burned down the homes of many who were close to your mother. Or they turned the properties into barracks for their soldiers. The Everly home was the first to burn.”
“And what did they do when it happened? Did they turn to friends or find hiding places like we did? No. They moved into the palace itself and started speaking on behalf of the queen.” Lady Ollen spat over her left shoulder as though warding off a curse.
“Did they move there of their own accord? Or were they taken prisoner?” Charis asked, remembering the rumors that the High Emperor of Rullenvor had become a mouthpiece for the Rakuuna before ultimately dying when his usefulness to them ended.
“Well...” Lady Ollen’s dark green serpanicite ring flashed in the light. “They were searching for your family, and then they stayed on to be negotiators for that monster on the throne. But really, there’s no excuse. I would rather have died than be useful to those who killed our queen.” Lady Ollen jabbed a finger at Lord Thorsby. “And so would you, Jamison.”
He nodded, desperately dabbing at his shiny forehead. “Just so, Lady Ollen. Just so. Still, one does what one must to survive, and as they were the only members of the royal family left, it stands to reason that the Rakuuna wanted to use them to convince King Alaric to return to Arborlay.” He met Charis’s gaze. “Our best information indicates that the Rakuuna have demanded a rather large shipment of jewels from Montevallo.”
Charis nodded. “That’s correct. And I can confirm that the Everlys are living in captivity, along with the rest of the palace staff. We’re being kept in the same wing.”
“Clearly they know a way out, so why not just leave?” Lady Ollen frowned.
“Where would they go?” Charis asked softly. “King Alaric has demanded that all four heirs to the Caleran throne be present when he arrives. If the Everlys flee, the Rakuuna will hunt them down, the same as they did me.”
Lord Thorsby took a sip of tea and folded his handkerchief. “If the Rakuuna need all four heirs for King Alaric, why wasn’t a bounty placed on the Farragin twins?”
Charis blinked. Why indeed?
Holland looked offended. “I hadn’t thought of that. That could’ve been my one opportunity to have someone put out the call to bring me in dead or alive.”
“Knowing you, I’m sure there will be more,” Tal said.
“Thank you.” Holland appeared somewhat mollified.
“It still doesn’t answer Lord Thorsby’s question, however.” Charis tapped her fingers on the table. “Something doesn’t add up.”
“If they’d placed a bounty on all three of you, they’d have alerted you that there was a plan in place to get rid of every rightful heir to Calera’s throne.” Tal sounded miserable. “And knowing how your mind works, that would’ve been all the warning you needed to hide Holland and Nalani far from the Rakuuna’s reach.”
“The Rakuuna don’t know how Charis’s mind works or they’d never have allowed her the opportunity to leave Calera alive in the first place,” Lady Ollen said.
“The Rakuuna don’t, but King Alaric does,” Tal said flatly.
Charis glanced at him and found him staring at the floor, jaw clenched. Turning back to those at the table, she said, “What Alaric doesn’t know is that the heirs aren’t without resources. I have a plan. Tell me everything I’ve missed in my absence, and then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”
Two hours later, Charis sat back, mind racing as Holland, who’d managed to eat his way through an entire loaf of bread while they’d talked, brushed crumbs from his duster and said, “We’d better head back to the palace unless we want to be skewered by a Rakuuna. We should get across the city while it’s still dark outside.”
Charis nodded, her attention still on the papers Lord Thorsby had placed in front of her at the start of their discussion. The first was a list of nobles who’d declared loyalty to the Rakuuna, rather than to Charis. She could forgive them their desire to survive at any cost, but still, she committed every name on the list to memory. Once she had her kingdom back, not one of them would be welcome to advise her, serve her, or even hold the privilege of living in Calera’s capital.
There was also a list of those who’d died. It was horrifyingly long and included many respected nobles, merchants, and peasants who’d been unfailingly loyal to Queen Letha. A list of properties destroyed or currently being used by the Rakuuna. A list of safe buildings throughout the city and the surrounding area with basements or inner rooms in case someone needed a place to hide. A list of the actions the rebels had taken against the invaders, which included burning two of the homes they’d turned into barracks—something Holland bemoaned he’d missed out on—sinking four of their ships, and poisoning the fish supply that was delivered to their quarters, among other things.
All done in her name by those who’d refused to give up hope of her return.
The weight of that courage and loyalty was heavier than any crown she’d ever worn, but she bore it with gratitude. Her people were worth fighting for. Worth dying for.
Worth saving.
She’d explained the urgency of contacting Nalani to Lady Ollen and Lord Thorsby and had been assured there was a farm outside the city limits with pallorens that were never intercepted by the Rakuuna. She’d also told them about the moriarthy dust, the promise of ships from Solvang, Thallis, and Verace, and the retired admiral who’d agreed to create the battle plans that would end in the Rakuuna’s destruction. And because they’d questioned why she was relying heavily on Tal’s understanding of Alaric to inform her decisions, she revealed his true identity as well. In the end, they had steps in place to put Charis’s strategy into action.
If Alaric truly wouldn’t honor the deal with the Rakuuna until all four heirs were present, Charis had hopefully bought her allies enough time to bring war to Arborlay’s doorstep and ruin the Rakuuna. She’d deal with Alaric’s potential treachery once she had her kingdom firmly under her own control again.
Still, something about the situation with Alaric felt off. If he’d wanted to destroy Calera’s ruling family and install his son as the king, why not wait to have the Rakuuna attack after she’d already married Vahn?
“We’re missing something.” Charis tapped on the papers and looked to Tal.
“I agree.”
“I hardly think we need an impostor’s opinion on the matter.” Lord Thorsby spoke brusquely, his handkerchief once again summoned to deal with his forehead.
“Lord Thorsby, while I sympathize with the sentiment, I must insist that all talk of Tal as an impostor ends now.” Charis swept the table with a look, finding indignation on Lord Thorsby’s face, speculation on Lady Ollen’s, and a single raised brow on Holland’s. “He was following his father’s orders, and he made a tremendous personal sacrifice to ensure the safety of Calerans. Plus, should we discover there was no treachery on Alaric’s part, Tal will be my king consort’s brother. We cannot allow a whiff of controversy to taint my reign.”
It was impossible to think of Vahn as her king consort without wanting to flinch, and so Charis hurried on. “I don’t trust that we understand all the details of this situation. There are too many things that don’t make sense. And because of that, we need to be prepared for treachery from unexpected places.” She tapped the second pile of papers in front of her—her notes about their allies and potential battle plans.
Yes, the armada’s soldiers would be well equipped to kill the monsters. But Charis had seen how quickly the Rakuuna could sink a ship from below the water. Soldiers who were let off at a northern port and made their way down to Arborlay could do plenty of damage, but the ships at sea would be sunk as soon as they were close enough to the capital to catch Queen Bai’elsha’s attention.
However, the Rakuuna in Calera weren’t the only ones who could die by moriarthy dust.
“We need leverage,” Tal said softly, as though he’d read her mind.
“Yes, we do.” She looked to Lady Ollen. “In your message to Lady Nalani, I want you to include orders to send three ships, each supplied with some moriarthy dust, to Te’ash.”
“Te’ash?” Lady Ollen shifted in her chair. “You’re sending them to the Rakuuna’s homeland?”
Charis bared her teeth. “I am. Queen Bai’elsha brought her best warriors with her, leaving the old, the young, and the sick behind. If the only way I can ensure her cooperation is to order the deaths of every single Rakuuna left defenseless on Te’ash, I want to have that option.”
Holland grinned. “Now we’re having some fun.”
When the others looked askance at him, he sighed. “Fine. I’m having fun. The rest of you may continue being serious.”
“The Rakuuna aren’t the only threat. We have to be prepared for treachery from every quarter.” Charis glanced over the lists in front of her again, running her fingers over the papers as a plan came together. “If the worst happens and Nalani is captured, Alaric will come to Arborlay and demand the wedding be held immediately. Can your network find a way to provide my people with weapons at the feast? I don’t want to face an execution with nothing but my wits and the little bit of moriarthy dust I carry with me.”
Lady Ollen shared a long look with Lord Thorsby, who cleared his throat and set his handkerchief down.
“We’ll do our best to get weapons to you if the feast takes place. But we can provide you with some extra protection now.” He fished a hand into his breast pocket and came out with a small envelope, no bigger than the width of two fingers held side by side. Reaching across the table, he handed it to Charis.
There was something inside. She shook it gently and raised an eyebrow at what sounded like a teaspoon’s worth of sand granules sliding against each other.
“Dried mursilla herb,” Lady Ollen said. “Those of us who are privy to the names and locations of everyone involved in the rebellion keep some with us at all times, just in case we’re captured. That way, they can’t get the information from us by torturing us to death.”
“Skip the torture and go straight to death.” Holland slapped his hand against the table. “That’s smart.”
“If things don’t work out the way we hope...” Lord Thorsby cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly glistening. “I’m sorry it’s such a slow-acting poison. Supplies are quite low, and we don’t have anything stronger available to us at the moment. I don’t want you to use it, but I know you’d rather die than give up Nalani’s location, if it comes to that.”
“As would I,” Holland said solemnly and then waved his hand as Lady Ollen pulled out her tiny envelope of poison. “You need it, too, and I have no compunctions about simply impaling myself on the nearest sword before betraying my sister.”
“Thank you.” Charis closed her hand over the envelope, its contents feeling suddenly fraught with risk. “We’ll take our leave now. I deeply appreciate how hard you’re fighting to save our kingdom.”
Lady Ollen’s eyes glistened, too. “Hurry back to the palace. The street patrols don’t check in with the queen before sentencing people to death if they’re caught breaking curfew without an excellent explanation.”