Page 71 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

They were two blocks from the bakery when a haunting cry rose from somewhere on their left.

As the cry was still rising in pitch, Tal pivoted. “We need to hide.”

“Go low or go high, but get off the street,” Mason whispered as he and Ferris raced to climb one of the thick, sturdy oak trees lining the street.

Charis had no interest in being that exposed. Quickly, she scanned their surroundings and then pointed to a raised wooden porch on a cobbler’s shop two stores ahead of them. “There.”

Without another word, Charis, Tal, and Holland ran, sprinting from one building to the next, while behind them, the Rakuuna’s alert hit fever pitch and began to fall. Another cry sounded, this one from somewhere ahead. It sounded as if it had come from the street they were on.

It was too late to choose another location to hide.

If they’d been seen already, their lives could be measured in seconds. All that was left was to pray as they hurtled toward the porch. Gaps between the boards surrounding it were barely wide enough for Charis to shimmy through. She reached it, grabbed the edges of the boards, and launched herself into the darkness beneath, landing on her hands and knees. Tal tried to follow but got stuck partway through.

Whirling, Charis grabbed his hands, planted her feet, and pulled with everything she had. For a moment, nothing happened, and she tugged even harder.

He slid forward with such force, he slammed into her and sent her flat on her back, his body landing heavily on top of her. Holland launched himself through the opening, his momentum sending him crashing onto the two of them.

The air left Charis’s lungs, and she gasped. Immediately she covered her mouth with her hands, while Holland rolled to one side and Tal rolled to the other, his hair brushing against her face as he went.

Rakuuna voices drifted down the street, and Charis froze as the sound crept closer.

Tal pressed his body next to hers, anchoring himself between her and the outside world. As the slap of footsteps reached their ears, she fumbled through the dark until she found his hand. Lacing her fingers through his, she squeezed her eyes closed and prayed that this wasn’t the end.

She wanted to restore her kingdom.

She wanted to bury her parents and say a proper goodbye.

She wanted to explore this new flame within her battered heart.

The steps paused just shy of the porch.

Every breath felt too loud. Every heartbeat a drumroll announcing her presence to the predator outside.

The dirt beneath her was cold and unforgiving, and the darkness played tricks with her, tempting her to believe something else was entering the gap between porch boards.

She forced herself to think of nothing but the feel of Tal’s hand in hers. The roughness of his fingertips and the steady cadence of his breath as he pressed himself to her side. The way she fit against him as though he’d never left.

On her other side, Holland was so quiet, he seemed to be holding his breath.

The footsteps started up again, and a shrill cry rent the air.

Had they found Ferris and Mason?

Tal’s hand tightened on hers, but the Rakuuna were receding. Searching other streets for anyone foolish enough to violate curfew.

As the noise faded into silence, Charis became exquisitely aware of the warmth of Tal’s body and the heat of his breath fanning the side of her neck.

Softly, he said, “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better.” Holland stretched, and a popping sound came from his back. “What did I land on?”

“Me.” Charis and Tal spoke simultaneously.

“Ugh.” Holland began scooting toward the gap between boards. “Let’s never speak of this again.”

Tal shifted his weight, and his mouth brushed against her ear.

She shivered.

---