Page 49 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

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.

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