Page 14 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

“You’re not welcome here, queen of nothing.” An older man in fish-stained overalls and a wide-brimmed hat spat at Charis as she moved away from the Veracian ship.

Reuben reached for his sword, but Charis breathed, “No.”

She couldn’t risk a scene. Not if she wanted others to feel comfortable talking to her. Ignoring the man, she kept walking, scanning the dock as she went.

In a port as busy as this one, surely someone had to have experience with Embre.

“Aye, that’s right. I recognize you. Spitting image of your mother when she last visited.” The man followed at her heels. “Look at you, trying to hide in that fancy cloak when you’re bringing danger to our shores!”

“Your Majesty—”

“We will not react, Reuben. No, Orayn, ignore him.” She touched Orayn’s shoulder as his large hands curled into fists. “If you’re caught fighting on the docks, you’ll have trouble finding anyone willing to do business with you, and we still need more supplies and a repair or two for the ship before we sail.”

She quickened her pace, but the man followed suit. How was she supposed to hold conversations when she had someone yelling at her wherever she went?

“Shoulda kept to your own,” he shouted. “Or at least had the decency to sail into Dursley, where the likes of you belong.”

Something struck Charis, sending her stumbling forward. Reuben snarled and reached for his sword as Charis turned to find a fish as long as her arm lying at her feet. The man was already reaching into a nearby bucket to pull out another one.

“That’ll be enough out of you,” Reuben said, violence shimmering in his rough voice. But before he could finish drawing his sword, Dec and Grim were there.

Dec stepped in front of the man, blocking his view of Charis, and put a firm hand on the man’s shoulder, while Grim gave a dramatic gasp and yelled, “Thief! He’s stealing your fish, Hilmer!”

A man nearly as large as Orayn, with a long brown beard and deeply creased skin, stalked away from a merchant’s wagon, an angry flush rising in his cheeks. “Shab, you good-for-nothing dog, get your hands off my fish!”

Shab dropped the fish and backed away, his attention diverted to Hilmer, who looked ready to fillet the man with the knife in his hand.

“Come, Your Majesty,” Reuben said with quiet urgency. “It’s best we leave before we run into any more trouble.”

Frustration hummed through Charis as she stalked toward the main road. She was going to have to delegate the search for information to someone else if she was that easily recognized. Who could she trust with the task?

Orayn wouldn’t read people well enough to know when he should push for more information. Reuben was likely to run them through with a sword if they made threats against Charis. Holland could be ruled out for the same reason.

She paused when they reached the road. Turning, she was startled to see Dec and Grim had followed her as well. The fact that they’d demonstrated quick thinking and had acted to protect her was a bitter pill to swallow, but a queen who refused to be fair was a queen who didn’t deserve her power.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, nodding to them. “Your intervention was well timed—and appreciated.”

Dec nodded back, staying silent as usual. Grim, however, gave her a shy smile.

The day couldn’t be a complete loss. She’d had too many of those in a row. Obviously, the two Montevallians were well acquainted with the dock and the people who worked there.

Gesturing toward an alley tucked between the dockmaster’s office and a fishmonger’s stall, she gathered the four men around her and said quietly, “The captain of the Veracian ship thought our best source for information on the Rakuuna would be someone from Embre. Do any of you know of a ship from Embre currently in port? Or maybe a sailor or merchant who’s been there?”

Dec cocked his head as if thinking carefully and then said, “I don’t know of anyone on the docks with ties to Embre, but Shab mentioned Dursley, and visiting there might actually be a good idea.”

Charis frowned. “Where is Dursley?”

“It’s a village on the north end of the island where foreigners who don’t fit in so well with proper Solvanish society live,” Orayn said.

A whisper of something that felt dangerously like hope flickered to life within Charis. “Are any of those foreigners from Embre?”

A slow smile creased Orayn’s face. “It’s been years since I visited there, but I think so.”

Charis dug her fingers into the folds of her cloak to keep them from trembling. “Then let’s go to Dursley and figure it out.”

Six

THE VILLAGE OF Dursley was a three-hour ride away, so Charis cleared her schedule for the second day in a row and requested a large, comfortable carriage. A note from Vyllanthra arrived as Charis finished securing her curls with a cocoa-brown ribbon. Nita hovered anxiously, brush in hand, but Charis didn’t have time to waste if she was going to make the trip to Dursley, hunt for someone from Embre, extract information, and then return to the palace in time to keep her dinner appointment with Queen Vyllanthra.

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