"So, what are you punks doing here?" Charlie asked, his eyes glinting in a way that suggested that he could very well get us into trouble.

"You tell me, what are you doing here?" I retorted drily, overcoming my shock and fear of having been discovered in the act of sneaking inside the queen's chamber.

All color drained from Charlie's face, and he clenched his fingers. "It's none of your business. You should be worrying about what's going to happen next."

"Why would we be worried about the fact that we are going to strangle the living lights out of you, then throw you into a sack, and then dispose...