Page 94 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Loosening the mouth of the satchel, she plunged her hand inside, brushing against the little envelope of mursilla herb to let the last of the moriarthy dust trickle over her fingertips.

She was smarter. She struck harder. She never wavered. Never faltered. Never broke.

The Everlys should have killed her when they’d had the chance.

Her body moved stiffly, as though she was a stranger in her own skin, as she walked past the wreckage of Tal’s chair, past Reuben, and past Tal, who was speaking softly to Zale.

She held his gaze and saw the moment he understood what she was doing. He struggled to get up, but Zale refused to let him.

Ferris was still under the table, his eyes wide as he watched bloodied bodies being dragged across the marble.

Charis’s lip curled.

Coward.

And this is who Lord Everly wanted to crown king of Calera?

A true king didn’t hide from danger. Didn’t flinch at the result of his own choices.

But then Ferris never had been worthy of being king.

She had seconds before the Everlys noticed that she was no longer distracted. Quickly, she withdrew her hand from the satchel, watching Lord Everly closely while she set her trap.

The instant he noticed her, she spoke in a cold, clear voice that rivaled Mother’s on her best day. “People of Calera, we will deal with the horrifying violence we were just subjected to—”

“Too right, we will,” Lord Everly blustered. “We all heard them say—”

“We have a treaty to fulfill.” Charis raised her voice. “And it cannot be put off. I know Lord Everly will join me in advocating that we keep our word to King Alaric tonight.”

She locked eyes with King Alaric.

Zale said quietly, “I agree, Father. Let’s get this done.”

“Indeed.” King Alaric watched Charis closely. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I’m sure you have no argument against us honoring King Alaric’s wishes, do you, Ferris?” Charis turned as Ferris hastily climbed to his feet.

“I— That is, I’m not certain if we . . . Father?” Ferris glanced between Charis and Lord Everly.

“Do you speak only your father’s thoughts, or do you have your own?” she asked, reaching for her glass of fizzy pink wine.

Ferris’s jaw tightened. “You know I have my own.”

“Then stop checking with your father and answer me. King Alaric wants us to complete the treaty. I think we ought to honor our agreement with him, don’t you?” Her fingers closed around the glass stem, and she prayed they wouldn’t shake.

“Of course, but—”

“Thank you, Ferris. I quite agree.” She lifted the glass, her mouth dry, her heart thunder in her chest. The goblet trembled in her hand, and she tightened her grip.

It was time.

“I’d like to propose the first ceremonial toast.”

Thirty-Five

CHARIS’S WORDS ECHOED throughout the dining room, and for an instant everyone blinked in surprise. An instant was all Charis needed.

Standing in her bloodstained skirt, Reuben’s loss and Nalani’s fate carving a hole into her, she raised her wineglass and said, “To King Alaric and his family for their continued interest in peace between our kingdoms.”

---