Page 75 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Two hours later, Charis sat back, mind racing as Holland, who’d managed to eat his way through an entire loaf of bread while they’d talked, brushed crumbs from his duster and said, “We’d better head back to the palace unless we want to be skewered by a Rakuuna. We should get across the city while it’s still dark outside.”

Charis nodded, her attention still on the papers Lord Thorsby had placed in front of her at the start of their discussion. The first was a list of nobles who’d declared loyalty to the Rakuuna, rather than to Charis. She could forgive them their desire to survive at any cost, but still, she committed every name on the list to memory. Once she had her kingdom back, not one of them would be welcome to advise her, serve her, or even hold the privilege of living in Calera’s capital.

There was also a list of those who’d died. It was horrifyingly long and included many respected nobles, merchants, and peasants who’d been unfailingly loyal to Queen Letha. A list of properties destroyed or currently being used by the Rakuuna. A list of safe buildings throughout the city and the surrounding area with basements or inner rooms in case someone needed a place to hide. A list of the actions the rebels had taken against the invaders, which included burning two of the homes they’d turned into barracks—something Holland bemoaned he’d missed out on—sinking four of their ships, and poisoning the fish supply that was delivered to their quarters, among other things.

All done in her name by those who’d refused to give up hope of her return.

The weight of that courage and loyalty was heavier than any crown she’d ever worn, but she bore it with gratitude. Her people were worth fighting for. Worth dying for.

Worth saving.

She’d explained the urgency of contacting Nalani to Lady Ollen and Lord Thorsby and had been assured there was a farm outside the city limits with pallorens that were never intercepted by the Rakuuna. She’d also told them about the moriarthy dust, the promise of ships from Solvang, Thallis, and Verace, and the retired admiral who’d agreed to create the battle plans that would end in the Rakuuna’s destruction. And because they’d questioned why she was relying heavily on Tal’s understanding of Alaric to inform her decisions, she revealed his true identity as well. In the end, they had steps in place to put Charis’s strategy into action.

If Alaric truly wouldn’t honor the deal with the Rakuuna until all four heirs were present, Charis had hopefully bought her allies enough time to bring war to Arborlay’s doorstep and ruin the Rakuuna. She’d deal with Alaric’s potential treachery once she had her kingdom firmly under her own control again.

Still, something about the situation with Alaric felt off. If he’d wanted to destroy Calera’s ruling family and install his son as the king, why not wait to have the Rakuuna attack after she’d already married Vahn?

“We’re missing something.” Charis tapped on the papers and looked to Tal.

“I agree.”

“I hardly think we need an impostor’s opinion on the matter.” Lord Thorsby spoke brusquely, his handkerchief once again summoned to deal with his forehead.

“Lord Thorsby, while I sympathize with the sentiment, I must insist that all talk of Tal as an impostor ends now.” Charis swept the table with a look, finding indignation on Lord Thorsby’s face, speculation on Lady Ollen’s, and a single raised brow on Holland’s. “He was following his father’s orders, and he made a tremendous personal sacrifice to ensure the safety of Calerans. Plus, should we discover there was no treachery on Alaric’s part, Tal will be my king consort’s brother. We cannot allow a whiff of controversy to taint my reign.”

It was impossible to think of Vahn as her king consort without wanting to flinch, and so Charis hurried on. “I don’t trust that we understand all the details of this situation. There are too many things that don’t make sense. And because of that, we need to be prepared for treachery from unexpected places.” She tapped the second pile of papers in front of her—her notes about their allies and potential battle plans.

Yes, the armada’s soldiers would be well equipped to kill the monsters. But Charis had seen how quickly the Rakuuna could sink a ship from below the water. Soldiers who were let off at a northern port and made their way down to Arborlay could do plenty of damage, but the ships at sea would be sunk as soon as they were close enough to the capital to catch Queen Bai’elsha’s attention.

However, the Rakuuna in Calera weren’t the only ones who could die by moriarthy dust.

“We need leverage,” Tal said softly, as though he’d read her mind.

“Yes, we do.” She looked to Lady Ollen. “In your message to Lady Nalani, I want you to include orders to send three ships, each supplied with some moriarthy dust, to Te’ash.”

“Te’ash?” Lady Ollen shifted in her chair. “You’re sending them to the Rakuuna’s homeland?”

Charis bared her teeth. “I am. Queen Bai’elsha brought her best warriors with her, leaving the old, the young, and the sick behind. If the only way I can ensure her cooperation is to order the deaths of every single Rakuuna left defenseless on Te’ash, I want to have that option.”

Holland grinned. “Now we’re having some fun.”

When the others looked askance at him, he sighed. “Fine. I’m having fun. The rest of you may continue being serious.”

“The Rakuuna aren’t the only threat. We have to be prepared for treachery from every quarter.” Charis glanced over the lists in front of her again, running her fingers over the papers as a plan came together. “If the worst happens and Nalani is captured, Alaric will come to Arborlay and demand the wedding be held immediately. Can your network find a way to provide my people with weapons at the feast? I don’t want to face an execution with nothing but my wits and the little bit of moriarthy dust I carry with me.”

Lady Ollen shared a long look with Lord Thorsby, who cleared his throat and set his handkerchief down.

“We’ll do our best to get weapons to you if the feast takes place. But we can provide you with some extra protection now.” He fished a hand into his breast pocket and came out with a small envelope, no bigger than the width of two fingers held side by side. Reaching across the table, he handed it to Charis.

There was something inside. She shook it gently and raised an eyebrow at what sounded like a teaspoon’s worth of sand granules sliding against each other.

“Dried mursilla herb,” Lady Ollen said. “Those of us who are privy to the names and locations of everyone involved in the rebellion keep some with us at all times, just in case we’re captured. That way, they can’t get the information from us by torturing us to death.”

“Skip the torture and go straight to death.” Holland slapped his hand against the table. “That’s smart.”

“If things don’t work out the way we hope . . .” Lord Thorsby cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly glistening. “I’m sorry it’s such a slow-acting poison. Supplies are quite low, and we don’t have anything stronger available to us at the moment. I don’t want you to use it, but I know you’d rather die than give up Nalani’s location, if it comes to that.”

“As would I,” Holland said solemnly and then waved his hand as Lady Ollen pulled out her tiny envelope of poison. “You need it, too, and I have no compunctions about simply impaling myself on the nearest sword before betraying my sister.”

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