Page 69 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

When night finally arrived, Charis, Holland, Tal, and Ferris waited in her suite of rooms for the guards to complete their walk-through. All were dressed in dark pants, sweaters, and boots. Reuben stood off to the side, looking furious at Charis’s decision to exclude him from the outing. As soon as the Rakuuna left the wing, Ferris beckoned them into the hall.

“Remember the plan?” he asked, as if they might have forgotten the details they’d been discussing all day.

“Go to the parlor at the end of the wing, ride the dumbwaiter down to the servants’ hallway, take the back stairs up to the third floor and climb out the balcony of the seventh room.” Holland moved through the door before he was finished speaking. “Let’s go before the guards do another sweep of the palace. We know the schedule for this wing. We don’t know the schedule for anywhere else.”

“Your Majesty.” Reuben placed a hand on her arm before she could follow Holland. “For the last time, I must protest. I should go in your stead. Or if you won’t allow that, I should go with you.”

Charis pulled her arm free of his grasp. What if Lord Thorsby or Lady Ollen were lying like Lady Channing had been? What if they were working with King Alaric? Charis had to see their faces when she spoke to them. It was the only way she could be reasonably sure. “You can protect me by staying here. If you’re gone, and the Rakuuna check on me, they’ll immediately know that I’m gone, too. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Before he could say another word, she moved into the hall, followed immediately by Tal.

The dumbwaiter was tucked into the wall behind a cupboard door decorated with a trio of painted birds resting on a thesserin branch. It was a square the size of a carriage door, just large enough for a full-grown human to crouch on their hands and knees, which meant they spent nearly ten minutes slowly sending their party of four down the servants’ hallway, one person at a time. From there, they raced to the narrow staircase at the end of the hall and climbed two sets of stairs as quietly as possible.

For once, neither Holland nor Ferris said a word.

Once they reached the third floor, they found themselves in an abandoned wing of guest suites. Quickly they made their way into the seventh room, crossed the tiny sitting area, and opened the door that led out to a balcony overlooking the palace courtyard. Charis was about to order Ferris to make the small leap into the cradle of the closest thesserin tree, when a shadow unpeeled itself from the wall beside the balcony’s door, sending her heart crashing in her chest.

“My lords, my lady,” the shadow whispered, stepping closer so that in the faint moonlight, Charis could see the shape of a man with a narrow face, a long nose, and a mustache the size of a large mouse spread across his upper lip. “My name is Mason. I got the message that you needed an escort through the city. Where are we going?”

“The merchant district,” Charis said. “Northwest side.”

He nodded. “Stay quiet. The courtyard patrol is about to pass. Give them five minutes to turn the corner and move away from us, and then we’ll head out.”

Charis pressed her body against the wall and watched the tall, lithe shadows of two Rakuuna guards move across the courtyard. Her pulse beat wildly, and her hands trembled as she double-checked that the small satchel of moriarthy dust was tied securely to her waist.

This was madness.

If they got caught, they might be killed. At the very least, they’d be thrown into the palace dungeons. But Nalani’s life was at stake, and Charis needed to put her plan into action if Calera was to be saved.

Five minutes crept by with agonizing slowness, punctuated by the occasional cry from a night hawk and the soft shush of fabric brushing against stone when one of their party readjusted themselves against the balcony wall.

When the Rakuuna had long since rounded the far corner of the palace, Tal turned to her, his hand outstretched. “It’s time. Ready?”

Charis hesitated for a moment, waiting to feel rage or pain at the sight. Instead, the small, warm light Tal had once lit in her heart burned steadily—the beginning of a new, fragile friendship between them.

She took his hand.

“Ready.”

“You were right, Holland.” Ferris moved past Charis and climbed the railing. “It is nauseating.”

“I’m always right. Do make sure your foot doesn’t slip,” Holland said cheerfully. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Keep your voices down,” Mason whispered. “And move quickly.”

The chilly air smelled of the woodsmoke that drifted lazily into the night sky from chimneys across the city. It had rained that afternoon, and the stone balcony was still damp. Once Ferris and Mason had climbed down the tree, Tal, Holland, and Charis approached the railing.

“You first,” Holland said, gesturing at Charis.

“Be careful,” Tal said, giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “The bark is wet.”

“I can manage.” She climbed over the railing and reached for the closest branch, dimly aware that Tal was holding on to the back of her sweater. Once she was securely in the tree’s cradle, she shimmied down the trunk and strained to hear any sound from the Rakuuna patrol while she waited for Tal and Holland to descend.

The instant everyone reached the courtyard, Mason started moving, trusting them to follow. The sister moons were directly overhead, partially shrouded by clouds, their ghostly blue light lending a faint glow to the stones beneath their feet.

The oil lanterns that used to be lit around the palace at night no longer burned. Maybe the Rakuuna could see well at night without them. The thought sent a chill down Charis’s spine.

All the more reason to get off the palace grounds and into the city proper as fast as possible.

---