Page 72 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

“Are you all right?” He breathed the words against her skin.

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and scooted toward the hole between porch boards. “We should get going.”

He squeezed her hand once and then let go so he could follow her back onto the street.

Twenty-Six

THE TWO-STORY TEAROOM and bakery was nestled between a bookbinder’s shop and a store selling sewing notions. Ferris and Mason were waiting at the mouth of the alley, pressed against a tree. They joined Charis, Tal, and Holland in silence. The scent of sugared icing and yeast bread hung in the air as Charis’s group approached the back door. Clouds drifted across the sister moons, making it difficult to see in the narrow alleyway that cut between shops.

Charis wasn’t convinced the lack of moonlight would affect the Rakuuna’s vision the way it did hers. Every second she spent outside felt like exposing her neck to a sharpened blade.

They’d nearly reached the bakery’s door when a shadow detached itself from the stairwell, and a quiet male voice said, “Who goes there?”

Holland stepped in front of the group and answered softly. “Her Majesty, Queen Charis Willowthorn, requests an audience with those inside.”

The shadowy figure froze, then said, “Right. The queen is just wandering the streets after curfew. Listen, go on back to wherever you came from. Nothing special going on here anyway. Just me and my workers baking bread for the morrow.”

Holland glanced back at Charis, and she moved to his side. The tension in the man’s body belied the forced casual tone of his voice. He was lying, which meant he had something to hide. Relief turned her knees weak. She’d found the resistance. Her kingdom could still be saved.

“We’ve taken great risk to come here tonight,” Charis said softly. “Perhaps we could simply step inside for a cup of tea before our journey back to the palace?”

“Wasn’t expecting company.” The man shifted his feet, blocking the door at his back.

Charis clenched her jaw. Was there a secret phrase she was supposed to know to gain entrance? It was too dark for the man to see her clearly, and he obviously hadn’t recognized her voice. What else could she do to convince him that she was truly Calera’s queen and meant them no harm?

“Now, you listen here, you flour-dusted fool.” Ferris managed to sound both imperious and desperate. “How dare you leave us standing on the street where we could get killed by the Rakuuna—”

“Enough, Ferris.” Charis kept her voice low. “He’s right to be cautious.”

“I might have a solution,” Tal said, sounding calm and agreeable. “Perhaps you could ask one of your more senior workers to come to the door for a moment? He’s a fussy man, always wears a handkerchief in his breast pocket, though usually he’s busy using it to wipe his forehead. He’s known the queen since she was a child. He’ll recognize her.”

Charis looked from Tal to the man in the shadows. If Lord Thorsby was indeed here, this was a risk worth taking. If he wasn’t, there was no chance the sentry would allow them in now.

The man considered Tal for a long moment, and then said, “No one here matches that description.”

Again, he was lying.

Charis stepped forward. “I appreciate the difficult position we’ve put you in. Would you be willing to deliver a message from me to your most senior worker?”

He stared at her in silence.

“Ten years ago, when I was seven, I once borrowed my mother’s wax and royal seal and stamped it all over the finalized draft of a trade agreement with Morg because I thought it looked pretty.” Charis lowered her voice as a sound from a nearby street echoed into the night. “Your worker found it before my mother did and spent hours redoing the document without ever telling her what I’d done. Only the two of us know about that incident. Tell him that story, and he’ll know for certain that I am who I say I am.”

For a moment, the man did nothing but stare at her. Finally, he said, “Wait here. Times being what they are, my sword hand gets real twitchy if anyone tries to enter my property without permission.”

“We won’t move from this spot,” Tal said.

They remained silent as the man ducked inside the bakery, locking the door behind him. Something skittered along the rooftop across the alley. Tal and Holland both pivoted to put themselves between her and the noise. From the mouth of the alley, four buildings down, the rattling sound of Rakuuna speaking to each other drifted through the air.

The hair on the back of Charis’s neck rose. She couldn’t see the patrol, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see her.

And while she had a small chance of the Rakuuna at the palace recognizing who she was and deeming her too valuable to kill yet, the city patrol had never set eyes on her. She’d be treated to the same body-breaking consequences as the rest of her people who were caught out after curfew.

Moving slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Charis stepped back to press herself against the cold brick wall of the bakery beside Ferris and Mason.

The sound of the Rakuuna patrol came closer.

They’d turned down the alley.

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