Page 92 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Thirty-Three

CHAOS ERUPTED AS those with weapons screamed “Death to traitors!” and lunged at the guests closest to them. Rakuuna backed away, watching warily. Tal stood so quickly, he sent his chair flying onto the floor behind him. He and Reuben took fighting positions on either side of Charis as she jumped to her feet, though they had no weapons.

Charis’s hands shook as screams rose.

Who were these people?

Had Lady Ollen and Lord Thorsby sent help?

If so, surely they knew better than to order the murder of Calerans in Charis’s name. Especially Calerans she needed to convince of her innocence.

The attackers closest to Charis’s table struck a woman in a purple feathered dress four seats down from the Everlys and then ran around the table to get to those seated on the other side.

The Montevallian guards converged on Alaric, Vahn, and Zale, surrounding them, swords out, feet sliding into the first rathma position.

The Everlys stood and backed away from the table until they reached the wall.

Holland grabbed his fork and knife as though they were weapons and leaped to his feet. Nalani grabbed hers as well and followed suit.

Ferris ducked under the table.

More screams. More blood. People panicked and ran for the door, but Queen Bai’elsha called out in her language and the Rakuuna blocked anyone from leaving.

Charis’s head spun, and there was a ringing in her ears as her throat closed. Her vision wavered, and she was back in the Farragin ballroom watching her friends and fellow Calerans frantically fight their way across a blood-slicked floor, hoping for escape. A woman’s thin, high wail became the cry Charis imagined Mother had made as the Rakuuna converged on her.

“Tal, weapon!” a man’s voice yelled.

Charis blinked, and she was back in the royal dining hall. Tal spun toward the other side of the table in time to catch the holstered dagger Vahn tossed his way.

The coat bearer and three others stabbed Lord Vickery at the opposite end of Charis’s table and then he locked eyes with her. For a breath, they stared at each other, and then, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t identify, he screamed, “Death to traitors in the name of Queen Charis!”

“No.” The word was nothing but a horrified whisper. She swallowed and yelled, “No!”

The boy and his fellow attackers ignored her and kept coming.

Holland leaped between the boy and Reuben, brandishing his knife. His fork was already embedded in the face of a girl who’d tried to slash at Tal when his back was turned to catch Vahn’s weapon.

“Stop.” Charis raised her voice. No one listened.

They weren’t here to obey her.

She stumbled back as Tal fought two attackers at the same time. Her legs struck the edge of her chair, and she nearly fell.

There were at least seven fighters surrounding Charis now. Reuben was fending them off with a chair. Tal used his dagger, but he was losing ground as four attackers took him on at once. Holland had snatched a plate from the table and was using it as a shield while he kicked and punched his way to Tal’s side, both fighting to keep the assailants from the person who was clearly their real target: Charis.

Panic blazed through her as the truth hit home. They weren’t here to kill in her name. They were here to make it look like she’d ordered the deaths of defenseless Calerans and then silence her forever before she could defend herself.

One of the attackers slipped under Tal’s outstretched arm while he was fending off two others and buried his dagger in Tal’s side.

“No!” Charis screamed, lunging for him as he stumbled back.

King Alaric barked an order and suddenly four of the five Montevallian guards were standing in front of Tal, swords flashing, flowing through the seven rathmas like graceful dancers delivering death with beautiful precision.

Tal shook as he crumpled to the floor at her feet.

She fell to her knees beside him. “You’re going to be all right.” She took his face in her hands, and his eyes found hers.

He hissed in a breath as he reached for the wound and found blood pouring down his side and dripping onto the floor.

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