Page 54 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

“Too late!” The captain reached for Tal, hooked a claw into the front of his shirt, and dragged him face-to-face with the shivering Rakuuna. With his other hand, the captain reached for her throat and gingerly peeled back the scorched flap of skin at the edge of the wound.

Tal turned away, gagging.

The Rakuuna’s throat was a stringy mess of tissue pocked with gaping holes. Blood and other fluids bubbled up from her chest, as though the damage went all the way down to her stomach.

“Too late,” the captain said again. “She did this.”

He let go of Tal, snatched Ayve from the wounded Rakuuna, who was now shaking uncontrollably too, and in one long sweep, dragged his claws across her neck.

“No!” Charis tried to rush forward, but Reuben blocked her with his body as Ayve collapsed next to the dying Rakuuna who’d first entered the cabin. Blood poured from her wounds, and she gasped wetly for air.

“Said you couldn’t try to hurt us.” The captain’s voice rose. “Trick us.”

“Please listen,” Charis said softly, sheathing her dagger and holding up her hands as though in surrender. “How could we have done this? Our people have been in the kitchen several times to get food for us. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

“Today bad.” The captain spat at her as the Rakuuna with bluish skin collapsed and went still.

“Yes, I can see that. But tell me what we did wrong.” Charis held the captain’s gaze and called his bluff. If any of the Rakuuna had seen Ayve put something in a bowl of stew, they would have punished her and thrown out the food. Right now, all the captain had was coincidence and suspicion.

She had to remind him of what really mattered.

“Your queen wants us alive when we reach Calera.”

The captain’s eyes sparked with rage, and his too-long fingers curved into talon-tipped weapons. “Find.”

Before Charis could work out what he meant, the two uninjured Rakuuna rushed forward and began roughly tearing the room apart. Drawers were flung to the floor. Blankets and mattresses were lifted and then tossed aside. When they didn’t find what they were looking for, they turned toward the humans. Dec and Grim were closest. In seconds, the Rakuuna had them pinned while the captain searched them.

He was hunting for the poison.

Charis pressed her arm against her side to anchor the satchel from view while her mind raced.

Could she slide closer to the drawers strewn across the floor and drop the satchel in one of them?

Or maybe let it fall to the floor and then kick it off to the side, where it might go unnoticed?

Grim was cleared, and the Rakuuna holding him grabbed Holland as the captain searched Dec.

Charis felt a tug at her belt and looked down to find Reuben quietly sliding the satchel free and pocketing it.

There was no time to react. Dec was cleared, and the Rakuuna holding him moved swiftly toward Charis, Tal, and Reuben while the captain turned his attention to Holland.

“Watch it,” Holland snapped. “I like this coat.”

“Careful,” Charis breathed as Reuben squared his shoulders.

The Rakuuna captain’s hands were damp and chilly. Charis held herself as still as possible while he searched her, trying not to focus on the scaly translucence of his skin or the smell of rot and brine wafting from his mouth.

When he found nothing, he turned to Reuben while one of the others searched Tal. In seconds, the captain yanked the satchel from Reuben’s pocket and pried open the knot. He peered inside, frowned, and then shook a small amount of moriarthy dust onto the floor. The red-brown poison glittered dully in the light of the porthole. Charis schooled her expression into calm disinterest and tried to breathe normally, though everything inside her felt sharp as glass.

The herbologist in Solvang hadn’t known exactly how moriarthy dust affected the Rakuuna because it had been so long since it had been used. Maybe the Rakuuna wouldn’t recognize it. Maybe she could think of a convincing lie. Maybe—

“What?” The captain pointed at the satchel before baring his fangs at Reuben.

“Medicine,” Reuben said, looking queasy enough that the idea of him carrying medicine might make sense.

“For what?” The Rakuuna looked dubiously at the powder.

“My stomach.” Reuben burped and patted his stomach gingerly, looking even sicker than he had a moment before. Blood from his head wound congealed on the side of his face, a stark contrast to his pasty complexion.

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