Page 70 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Moving quickly, they skirted the edge of the courtyard, heading west, keeping to the line of thesserin trees and the dubious coverage their bare branches allowed. When they reached the edge of the courtyard, Mason brought their group to a halt. Charis waited, every muscle coiled with tension.

What if there was a patrol on the rooftop?

The instant they left the protection of the thesserin trees, they’d be exposed.

“Move quickly but silently.” Mason’s voice was grim. “The patrol will be close, and we can’t afford to give ourselves away.”

Charis’s stomach twisted as she took one step into the courtyard, then another, feeling utterly exposed. The dim blue light of the sister moons, which moments ago had seemed nothing but a faint shine in the darkness, now felt like a torchlight illuminating her every move.

Another three steps. Five.

On the sixth step, Ferris’s boot slid against the gritty, damp stone, a loud screech of leather against rock. He froze.

Mason, however, didn’t. “If anyone is close, they’ll have heard that. Run.”

They took off, sprinting across the exposed space. Charis tried to run lightly, her focus entirely on the overgrown garden that flanked the far edge of the courtyard. If they could make it inside the arched, vine-covered entrance before the patrol came, they’d be out of sight.

From somewhere over her left shoulder, the high, undulating cry of a Rakuuna rose, piercing the night and sending a rush of cold fear through Charis’s veins.

She pushed herself to run faster.

An answering cry came from the right.

Were they coordinating their attack? Alerting other guards to chase them down?

The courtyard had never felt so vast.

She raced under the archway just behind Mason, ripping at the vines that tangled in her hair, and whirled to face the courtyard. Tal skidded to a stop beside her, his breath coming quickly. Holland and Ferris lunged beneath the archway and stopped beside Mason. All five of them stared at the courtyard, bodies tensed to run again.

For a long, agonizing moment, they waited, sure they’d been discovered. The wind whispered through the vines and rattled twigs along the garden path. The palace sat, still and silent, bathed in moonlight.

Charis turned to Tal and whispered, “I think we’re—”

A scream tore through the night, raw and brutal.

Tal stepped in front of Charis, though he had no weapon.

“That was human,” she said softly.

“Someone got caught breaking curfew.” Mason’s voice was nothing more than a breath. “Stay quiet.”

Another undulating cry rose, this time from farther away, followed by the unmistakable dry rattle of Rakuuna talking to each other. Charis’s breath clogged her throat as the patrol rounded the corner and entered the courtyard.

Tal remained in front of her, body positioned to take the brunt of an attack, but the pair of Rakuuna never looked at the tangled, overgrown garden at the far edge of the courtyard. Charis swallowed against the dryness in her mouth as the pair seemed to take forever to walk that side of the palace and eventually turn the corner.

The instant they were out of sight, Holland said, “Someone got hurt.”

“Or killed.” Mason turned toward the garden path. “We need to get off these grounds before we’re next. There’s a gap between bushes two minutes east of here. We can use the orchard for cover as we move toward the road. Let’s go.”

Nearly an hour later, after silently creeping through the gardens—which, by the state of things, had been untended since the invasion—and carefully moving through the orchard, hugging one tree after another to blend in with the shadows, they reached the road that led into the city.

“Stick to the shadows,” Mason whispered, though they were already doing so.

The streets of Arborlay were eerily still. No torchlights were lit, giving more credence to the idea that the Rakuuna could see well in the dark. Starshine glittered against windowpanes, and porch timbers creaked as the breeze kicked up, tearing at Charis’s clothing and slapping damp air against her cheeks.

The bakery was deep into the merchant district. They’d been walking for nearly thirty minutes, trying hard to stay pressed against buildings, listening intently for any signs of Rakuuna. Tal consistently put his body between hers and the street beyond, while Holland walked two steps behind them, ready to face any opponent that came at their backs. Mason and Ferris walked in front, sometimes talking in low voices that never reached Charis’s ears, sometimes moving in silence.

She found herself falling into rhythm with Tal, at once new and achingly familiar. Him protecting her with no thought to himself. Her matching her movements to his, syncing up with his steps, his speed, and the cadence of his breathing.

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