Page 17 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

“But he treated his father—his kingdom—with honor.” Nalani leaned forward to look across Charis’s lap and meet her brother’s gaze. “We’re angry because we thought he was one of us.”

“Because he’s a liar.” Holland’s lip curled around the word as if he could barely stomach it.

Charis’s heartbeat shuddered, a jagged rhythm pulsing through her as if she was a hollow vessel capable of holding nothing more than the echo of who she used to be.

“He lied to us. Not to his family. His own people.” Nalani clasped and unclasped her hands, her telltale sign of distress. “If you’d been assigned to spy in Alaric’s palace, and you’d succeeded in getting close to the royal family, they’d be furious with you, but would you think of yourself as dishonorable?”

“He did more than just spy on Charis!” Holland’s voice rose.

“I know that, but—”

“Enough.” Charis meant to sound firm, but the word came out ragged and worn. Instantly, the twins turned to her.

“I’m sorry.” Nalani grasped Charis’s cold fingers in her own. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Holland bumped her shoulder with his. “Don’t worry, Charis. I’ll make sure the traitor regrets ever setting eyes on you.”

“And if he doesn’t, Your Majesty, I certainly will.” Reuben’s voice shimmered with violence—a part of him that used to make her deeply uncomfortable. Now it barely scratched the surface of the darkness in her heart.

The three of them were watching her closely. Slowly, she lifted her chin and blinked away any hint of emotion in her eyes.

She couldn’t look weak. Even in front of her closest allies. Tal had taught her that.

The carriage door opened, and the Montevallians entered on a gust of frigid wind. “Found someone,” Dec said as they settled into their seats. “A herbologist. The coachmistress is taking us to the shop now.”

The vehicle took three turns and then rolled to a stop in front of a little hut made of gray stone. Ivy clung to the walls, and a gate to the left of the entrance led to an overgrown garden.

“You two, stay here,” Charis said to Dec and Grim.

Charis left the carriage, followed by Holland, Nalani, and Reuben, and the four of them entered the shop.

An old woman was bent over a large pot stirring something that bubbled and steamed, filling the room with the scent of damp wood and bright citrus. A thick purple scarf was wrapped around her head, and her wrinkled skin resembled a crumpled piece of parchment.

She glanced up as Charis entered, one blue eye sizing up her visitor. The other eye was covered in white film. “The name’s Lunay. Help you?” she asked in thickly accented Solvanish.

“I understand you’re originally from Embre,” Charis said.

“Oh, aye.” Lunay reached for a dusty glass bottle full of something that looked like red seeds and poured a small amount into the bubbling mixture.

“Do you know who I am?”

Lunay stirred her pot. “Should I?”

“Probably not.” Charis stepped closer. “I’m from Calera. We’ve recently been invaded by the Rakuuna. A small number of us escaped, but most of the kingdom is now trapped.”

Lunay muttered something in the lilting language of Embre and spat on the floor.

“I have the difficult task of learning how to defeat the invaders so I can save my people. I’ve searched every resource in the Royal Library, but nothing there tells me how to kill the Rakuuna.”

“Needs moriarthy.” Lunay returned the red seeds to their shelf.

“I don’t understand.” Charis frowned. Did she mean her concoction needed something else, or was she speaking of the Rakuuna?

Lunay gave her pot another vigorous stir and then faced Charis. “Moriarthy. Dry beans from the moriar bush, crushed into powder, kills Rakuuna.”

The pressure in Charis’s chest burst, sending a rush of vicious hope through her veins that nearly brought her to her knees. Holland rapped his fist against his sword sheath and swore, while Nalani clasped her hands to her chest. Reuben’s perpetual sneer widened into something that almost resembled a smile.

“How? Do we coat our weapons with it? Or do they have to ingest it?”

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