Page 51 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

“I’m not the one who passed out on the mess hall floor and then claimed I was fine, Your Majesty.”

“I didn’t—that’s not even—why are you still here?” Her voice rose. “Go back to Holland.” And seers curse him for making her wish she could ask him to stay so she wouldn’t be alone with the darkness inside her.

“And leave you to pass out again all by yourself? I think not.” He settled against the cabinet beside her, his shoulder touching hers.

They sat in silence for a long moment while the ship rocked and the winds howled, and then he said quietly, “You don’t have to be strong in front of me, Charis.”

She bit down hard, clenching her teeth as she swallowed the truth that rose to the surface.

Of all people, she had to be strongest in front of him because he alone had seen her at her weakest, and he’d buried a knife in her back.

“Breathe.” He reached for the vinegar rag as though worried she might lose consciousness again. She pushed his hand away, and as she drew in a jagged breath, the dam within her burst.

“You have a lot of nerve sitting next to me and pretending to care.” The words were sharp as a blade, and she hoped they sliced him to the bone. “I know you’re watching me. I can feel it. The first chance you get, you’ll run and tell your father everything you know about Calera’s situation, and if Alaric thinks we’re not strong enough to do what needs to be done, he’ll refuse to honor the treaty. Refuse to help us with his army. And then . . .”

“Then?” he asked gently, as if she hadn’t just wounded him, though she could see the pain in his eyes.

“Then it’s all gone. All of it!” Her voice rose, wild and fierce, and she turned on him with her fists ready, though he wasn’t putting up a fight. “Mother is gone. Father is . . . I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

A sob caught in her chest, and she hurled the last of it at him, the darkness spilling out of her with every word. “I have a kingdom of people depending on me to be strong enough and smart enough to make everything right, but nothing will ever be right again, will it? Because nothing I do will bring back who we’ve lost. And the worst of it is that Mother was telling the truth all along.”

“About what?” He brushed a hand against her skin as he gently tucked a curl behind her ear, but she barely noticed.

“There’s no one I can truly trust anymore. To rule is to be alone. And I am utterly, completely alone.”

Her voice broke, and she turned away as tears slid down her cheeks.

“Charis, I’m sorry.” He placed one warm hand against her back and waited. When she didn’t order him to stop, he kept it there. “I wish we’d both had a chance to say goodbye to your father. He was the best man I’ve ever known.”

Sobs shook Charis until it seemed she’d never stop. Dimly, she was aware of him anchoring her body next to his so that she wouldn’t slide with the movements of the ship. He whispered against her ear, but she couldn’t hold on to anything he said. There was nothing but the agony of missing Father and wishing she could turn back time and undo what was final.

When at last, her sobs quieted, she felt weary to the core. She leaned away from Tal, resting her head against the cabinets just to put distance between herself and the boy she’d just shown weakness to. She needed to do something about that, but right now it would take far too much energy, and her eyelids fluttered.

“You aren’t alone, Charis,” Tal said quietly, his voice aching with the same pain that lived within her. “I know it’s hard to see it, now, but I swear it’s true. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

She wanted to tell him he’d already proven everything she needed to know the night he was revealed as a spy, but she was no longer sure that was the truth, and she was too tired to figure it out.

Instead, she rested her head against the cabinet and let her eyes close while the storm raged on, knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to her while she slept.

Nineteen

THE STORM LASTED for most of the night. About an hour in, Tal had escorted her back to the cabin and watched her fall into bed, where she’d slept, deep and dreamless, for the first time in weeks. She woke feeling focused and clearheaded with no one else in the cabin. It was time to pull herself together, check on her crew, and then figure out how to sneak some poison into a soup bowl or two.

With that plan in mind, she splashed her face with freezing water, subdued her hair into a thick braid, and opened the door to leave the cabin. Holland, however, was standing on the other side, Tal right behind him.

“I’m going to check on the crew,” she said, waiting for them to move.

“You have some explaining to do.” Holland bit off his words as if he was struggling to keep his voice down.

From farther along the corridor, the brittle bones sound of Rakuuna talking to each other drifted down, and the smell of rotting fish stew lay heavy on the air. Charis stepped back to let the two of them into the dubious safety of the cabin. Tal was carrying a rough wooden platter holding what looked like a fish—a proper, baked fish, rather than a bowl of the disgusting stew Charis was usually served for breakfast. Tal settled the tray on the room’s small desk and then pulled out a chair in a clear invitation for her to sit down.

She ignored him and turned to Holland. “What do you mean I have explaining to do?”

“I won’t sugarcoat it.” Holland placed a mug of water onto the desk with a thunk. “You’re too thin, you look terrible, and now the impostor tells me you passed out. Twice.”

She turned on Tal. “You told him?”

“Don’t get mad at him,” Holland snapped, and then paused. “I mean, stay mad at him for all the things he did wrong, of course. No one here is forgetting we owe him a disembowelment. But he was right to bring this to me.”

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