The captain didn't ask any questions and turned to his men before Sonder had even finished looking away from him.
Whatever they saw in his face settled the matter immediately.
"You," he pointed to one of his men. "Get t' th' ship. Dock an' get more men. Move. You," he pointed at another, "with me. We'll find that gray block. We'll figur' out the supplies situation on the' way."
He was already walking, pulling his coat straighter. "The rest of you, torches and whatever tools you can carry. Now."
His crew moved without the hesitation that the last few hours might have earned them, which the captain thought said something about the kind of men they were. He didn't look back at the dock as he went.
Sonder watched until she was certain they were safe, doing what she ordered them to do.
Then she turned back to the three in front of her.
The king looked at her with the expression of a man who had been patient for a long time and was nearly at the end of it.
But he would rather not do anything if he didn't need to.
"You think," he said, "that we will simply stand here and let you do as you please. Then you understand that there will come a time when we kill you."
It was a threat and a prediction.
"No," Sonder said. "I understand you'll try to kill me. Those aren't the same thing."
The queen's composure had thinned into something colder and more direct. "You have destroyed our home. You have driven us from our island. You will not take what remains."
"I will," Sonder said. Simply. Without cruelty. Her words left no room for it. "But that's an exaggeration. I won't take the remains because there will be nothing left. Say goodbye to your home. It will be the last time you will know it."
The queen looked at her for a moment longer.
Then she spoke.
Not to Sonder. Not to the king, or their son. She said it to the dock workers, low and flat.
The dock workers moved.
It was a simple command to attack and they would listen.
There were more of them than Sonder had counted, or more had come while she was speaking, emerging from the shadows at the edges of the dock where the torchlight didn't reach.
They didn't transform, not fully as there wasn't enough time, but something changed in the way they moved, the human approximation loosening, becoming something more animalistic.
Sonder didn't step back. There was no reason to.
She brought the sword up. She didn't need to strike. Its light alone was enough. It hit the nearest one in the face, and he recoiled hard as his skin burned and twisted away from it. She was already turning to the next.