Page 5 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Charis moved up the stairs, feeling grateful that she’d skipped breakfast as her empty stomach churned. Every expression, every word from this moment on had to be perfect. The fate of her people depended on it.

King Gareth and Queen Vyllanthra were waiting in an elegant parlor just inside the palace entrance. A page wearing a dark red uniform with silver accents opened the parlor door and announced, “Her Majesty, Queen Charis Willowthorn of Calera.”

Charis entered, Reuben on her heels, and paused in front of the king and queen, who were standing shoulder to shoulder in the center of an ivory rug that appeared to have tiny replicas of their royal coat of arms embroidered across its surface. A queen did not curtsy to another ruler, so Charis allowed her lips to curve into a genuine smile.

“Your Majesty.” King Gareth stepped forward first, his arms outstretched. His wide girth was encased in a shiny navy tunic with long braids of silver rope looped across his chest and then wrapped around his waist, their knotted ends dangling near his knees. Like Vyllanthra, he had golden skin and black hair. He gripped her forearms gently, his dark eyes sympathetic. “We welcome you to Solvang and hope to provide some comfort and aid during this distressing time.”

Of course, they already knew about the invasion. There were plenty of Caleran families who could trace some of their ancestry back to Solvang, and vice versa. Pallorens carrying the news must have been sent to Solvang within hours of the Rakuuna overtaking the palace.

“Welcome, Your Majesty.” Vyllanthra, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with a strikingly handsome face and strands of pure white threading her black hair, squeezed Charis’s hands. “I was hoping the news out of Calera wasn’t as dire as we’ve been hearing, but your new title tells me otherwise.”

“Your Majesties.” Charis returned Vyllanthra’s squeeze and then let go. She might not be arriving from a position of strength, but she could avoid the weakness of appearing to need their sympathy.

Sympathy wouldn’t bring back anyone Charis had lost. It might, however, grease the wheels of Gareth’s famed generosity.

Reconsidering her strategy, Charis allowed herself to draw in a visibly shaky breath before saying, “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but here is the truth. Rakuuna from the kingdom of Te’ash allied themselves with Rullenvor, attacked our ships and sealed off our harbor, and then invaded during our Sister Moons Festival.”

The next breath wasn’t meant to be shaky, but it trembled just the same. “In the invasion, both the queen and the king consort were lost.”

Lost. As though her parents were something she’d misplaced. Something she could find again if she just looked hard enough.

“My dear, come. Sit. Let’s see what we can do to help those who were able to escape.” Gareth swept his arm toward the pair of red velvet couches that sat opposite each other in front of a window overlooking the palace’s tidy courtyard. “Our staff will see to the comfort of your companions while we talk.”

Charis kept her expression calm even as her thoughts raced. He’d offered help to those who were able to escape. That wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was a clear message that Solvang did not intend to interfere with Calera’s fate.

Somehow she had to change their minds.

Charis sat on the sofa to the right. Gareth and Vyllanthra sat opposite her. A parlor maid entered with a tea cart, and Charis’s stomach pitched uneasily as the smell of fillevun tea, buttery pastries, and pickled onion sandwiches filled the air. Once the maid had poured three cups and set the food on the low wooden table between the sofas, she backed out of the room.

Vyllanthra reached for her tea while Gareth took a hearty bite out of a savory biscuit. They were giving Charis permission to help herself to the food, but she knew better than to try swallowing anything of consequence. Not with her stomach in knots. And not when grief felt like a stone permanently lodged in the back of her throat. Instead, she took a delicate sip of the floral tea.

“How many were able to escape?” Vyllanthra asked as she set down her cup and folded her hands in her lap.

“Sixty-three.” Charis set her own cup down.

“So few?” Gareth pressed a hand to his chest, the large ruby ring on his middle finger glittering in the rays of sun streaming in through the window.

“Most of them are merchants or tradespeople.” Charis kept her voice even, though the horror of leaving thousands behind, trapped under the vicious rule of the Rakuuna, was an ever-present pain she couldn’t get used to, no matter how much time passed. “We have a few families. Some of the palace staff and a handful of sailors. And then myself and the three members of the nobility who came with me today.”

“You’ve all suffered a great tragedy.” Vyllanthra leaned forward, and behind the sympathy in her gaze, Charis caught a hint of worry. “We’ve struggled to understand why Rullenvor and Te’ash, whom our master scholars assure us haven’t been seen in the southern seas for over one hundred years, would ally themselves against an agricultural kingdom like Calera.”

Charis heard the question embedded in the queen’s statement. What had Calera done to bring this calamity upon themselves, and how could Solvang be sure they weren’t next?

The answer was complicated, and Charis had to be careful how she framed it. She couldn’t afford to be turned away from Solvang in a tiny smuggler’s ship with few provisions and even fewer options.

Holding herself still to keep from giving too much away, Charis said, “It all seems to come down to Montevallo.”

Gareth’s eyes widened as he brushed crumbs from his tunic. “Montevallo is behind this? I thought you’d signed a treaty.”

Charis nodded. “We have a treaty in place. King Alaric and I are allies.” She hoped.

“Then what has Montevallo to do with the invasion?” Vyllanthra watched Charis closely.

People were more likely to trust someone whose body language matched theirs, so Charis folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, like Vyllanthra. “Rullenvor made an alliance with the Rakuuna, ostensibly to have more protection for their ships in the northern seas.

“At some point, the Rakuuna began sinking any naval or merchant ship that tried to enter or leave our harbor. We didn’t realize it was them at the time, of course.” Charis flinched inwardly at the memory of standing on the deck of the smuggler’s boat at night, practicing the seven rathmas with Tal’s warm hand pressed to the center of her back as he adjusted her position while they quietly hunted the waters for the enemy who was attacking Calera’s ships. Tal didn’t deserve the flurry of desire that the memory of his hand caused, nor did he deserve the ache of misery that followed.

Shoving that thought away, Charis focused on the royals opposite her. “When they thought they had us at a true disadvantage, Rullenvor sent their ambassador with an offer. They’d colluded with Lady Channing, a member of our royal council, to make the proposed alliance seem more trustworthy than it was. In exchange for protection at sea and help defeating Montevallo’s army, they wanted us to allow both the Rakuuna and Rullenvor a place to set up an encampment and to grant them safe passage to Montevallo so they could mine for jewels.”

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