“Details, please,” Zie begged as the usual study group crowded into Daleina’s room.
“Both of them look strong.” That had been Daleina’s first, albeit brief, impression: contained strength, like a coil held in tension. “Champion Cabe’s muscles have muscles. And Champion Piriandra is just skin on top of muscles.”
“And bones,” Linna corrected primly. “The expression is ‘just skin and bones.’”
“I don’t think she has room for bones with all the muscles.” The champion had also been alert, her eyes snapping to every corner of the room. She’d spotted Daleina instantly. She was the kind of champion that Daleina wanted—smart, aware, serious. Someone who could take Daleina’s training to the next level. After four years, all of them were chafing to be out in the world. Others their age were marrying, having children, running shops, becoming journeymen and masters—in other words, living their lives, not still preparing for them. It’s our turn now.
“There will be tests tomorrow,” Mari said. “My mother had caretakers washing our uniforms, even though they weren’t dirty. She had strict orders about the stains.”
“Your mom thinks stains are a personal insult,” Revi said.
“So what do we do to prepare?” Linna asked.
“Everything that we’ve done for the past four years has been to prepare,” Iondra intoned. She was always intoning, proclaiming, or decreeing things. She was from the forest canopy, the daughter of a drummer and a singer, and she treated speech as if she were performing.
“Best thing we can do is get a full night’s sleep,” Daleina said.
All of them looked at her. Revi raised one eyebrow. Daleina felt her lips twitch. And then they all burst out laughing. She waved them silent. “Obviously we’ll practice. Air spirit? Who wants to start?”
Concentrating, Mari summoned a tiny air spirit into Daleina’s bedroom. It danced on her sheets. As they took turns commanding the creature, they compelled it to create a gust of wind that blew papers around the room like birds. The spirit flew with the papers, spiraling up the ceiling, then darting out the window. Next: an earth spirit, which crawled, oozing with mud, up the stairs and into the room. At Zie’s command, it shaped itself into a snake and then a salamander, sprouting legs of mud. They ended with a fire spirit, causing it to light and then douse all the candles on their level of the spiral staircase.
When all the candles were out and the fire spirit dismissed, the others shuffled off to bed, leaving Daleina alone in her room. Lying on her bed, she told herself to go to sleep. She had to be well rested for tomorrow. Two champions to impress. Two chances to be chosen. Two chances to make all of this worthwhile, to prove she could do this, to have the opportunity to do something real with her power, not just practice and study.
She wished Merecot were here. Not for the first time, she wondered what had happened to her friend, if she’d found a new academy, if she’d been chosen by a champion, or if she’d gone home to her family—wherever and whoever they were. She hadn’t realized until after Merecot was gone how little she’d truly known about her. Because of that, Daleina had made even more of an effort to get to know her remaining friends beyond what kind of students they were. Zie was a middle child and had never left the capital. Revi had scores of cousins, all city-dwellers too, plus two mothers, who visited constantly. Mari was the youngest of ten, the only child who had shown enough power to enter the academy. She was convinced her family would never forgive her if she failed. She wanted her mother’s approval so badly that it hurt, but Caretaker Undu never wanted to show favoritism. Evvlyn was the daughter of border guards and had been born while her mother was on guard duty, alone, in the middle of winter. She often said that nothing she could ever do could match the fierceness of her birth, but she wasn’t going to stop trying. As well as having famous musical parents, Iondra had an older brother who was renowned as a canopy singer, a baritone, who had never been to the forest floor, considering it a place of wolves, bears, and ruffians. Linna was a courtier’s daughter, the first in her family to braid her own hair and not wear silk. She’d been raised primarily by a governess, who quit when she discovered her charge playing with spirits. Since she’d enrolled in the academy, Linna hadn’t seen her parents once.
Daleina wished she saw her own family more. It had been a month . . . no, two months. Three? Had it really been that long since she’d seen them? Arin grew taller all the time. Last visit, she’d been past Daleina’s shoulder, and her cheeks had lost the baby pudge. She was braiding her hair now, festooning it with flowers, and talking about the baker’s boy who made her laugh. Daleina wondered if they knew the champions were searching for candidates and imagined telling them the news she’d been chosen . . . and then she imagined telling them she hadn’t.
The door creaked open, and a wolf trotted inside.
“Close the door behind you,” Daleina told Bayn.
He nudged it shut and then jumped onto Daleina’s bed. Daleina scooted over to make room as he settled his furry bulk next to her. Bayn didn’t always come. Often he was with Master Bei. But he must have known somehow that Daleina wasn’t going to sleep well tonight.
With the wolf beside her, she did.
SHE WOKE TO THE CALL OF THE MORNING BELLS. SPRINGING OUT of bed as if she’d never slept, she bolted to the bathing room, washed, dressed, and then headed for the practice ring. She skipped past the dining hall, too keyed up to eat. Inside, Iondra was stoically eating a plate of poached quail eggs, while Mari picked at a piece of toast. Seeing Daleina at the doorway, Mari waved. Daleina waved back but didn’t stop. She’d go to the ring early, settle herself, maybe practice more.
She wasn’t the first to the ring. Two students were already there: Cleeri and Airria. Nodding to Daleina, the two didn’t stop their summonings. Cleeri was skilled with water spirits and currently had three of them splitting the waterfall to irrigate the flowers that were growing at the base of the spiral staircase. She was thin, with white-to-the-point-of-nearly-translucent hair, and was missing one arm below her elbow. She’d lost it in a training exercise in her second year, when she’d summoned an earth spirit too large to control. It had taken an earth master plus the combined efforts of six senior students to subdue it. As far as Daleina knew, she had no family—at least none that had come to visit her while she was in recovery.
Airria was known for her precision in summonings, and in everything else she did. Her hair was always neatly pinned into a bun, and her gold-tinged skin never seemed to bruise or even get dirty. She was halfway up a tree with an air spirit perched on her palm. She was from midforest, like Daleina, but from a larger town, closer to one of the cities in the south. Daleina liked both of them, though they weren’t part of her usual study circle.
She scanned the practice ring, looking for a spot to settle in, trying to decide if she should work with the earth spirits this morning or the wood spirits. She was best with wood spirits, but she could use—“Youch!” Airria leapt down from the tree. “It bit me!” She put her finger in her mouth and sucked it.
“Need a bandage?” Daleina offered. She kept extras in her room.
Airria glared at the spirit, which was cavorting on a branch as if it had done nothing. “Just a flyswatter.” To the spirit, she held out her hand. “Come. Now.”
Its wings drooped, and it flew to land on her hand. A second later, Airria threw her hand upward, and the spirit launched itself into the air. It flew up, high up, until it reached the window to one of the storerooms and disappeared inside. Daleina watched, glancing at Airria, whose eyes were focused on the window, staring as if the spirit’s disobedience were not an option.
A second later, it burst out, with a round object in its thin arms. It plummeted down, its wings flapping fast to slow its descent. Straining to control its flight with the object in its arms, it veered erratically, like it was fighting with the air. It swooped through the tops of the trees, and then, shakily, aimed at Airria. She held out her hand imperiously.
Airria picked the purple berry up and squeezed it. White goo oozed out, and she smeared it in her cut. “You may go,” she told the spirit, and it fled, its wings buzzing so fast that they were invisible.
It was all so effortless.
With Daleina, it was never effortless. Yet Airria had executed a string of commands and had them obeyed, without her breaking a sweat. Like it was easy.
Movement caught her eye, and she glanced to see one of the champions, Champion Cabe, standing at the base of the spiral staircase. He nodded approvingly at Airria, and she beamed back. Daleina felt her heart sink. She tried to muster her shreds of self-confidence, as the second champion, the other senior students, and several teachers filed down into the practice ring. The two champions led them through the day’s exercises.
BY THE END OF THE DAY, CHAMPION CABE HAD CHOSEN HIS CANDIDATE: unsurprisingly, the prodigy Airria, after she flawlessly executed commanding a wood spirit to speed the life cycle of a flower. She presented the flower to the champion by having an air spirit carry it to him as he emerged to congratulate her.
Champion Piriandra ended the day without choosing anyone, which gave Daleina hope that maybe she had broader requirements for a candidate than just power. Over dinner, the students speculated about whom she would pick, whether she’d even stay, or whether she’d switch to another academy and choose one of their students. There was no rule that a champion had to choose any of them—or anyone, for that matter. The champions could wait for years for the right candidate to train.
I’ll make sure she doesn’t want to wait, Daleina told herself. She’d be chosen tomorrow. She was sure of it. Again, she woke early, bypassed breakfast, and prepared herself for the day.
Daleina pushed herself harder than she ever had, focusing on every task, calling spirit after spirit until her muscles shook and her hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks. But it didn’t matter. At the end of the second day, Champion Piriandra chose Linna.
Helping her friend pack, Daleina told herself she’d have other chances. Linna would make an excellent candidate and an even better heir. Champion Piriandra must have seen that and known they’d make a good fit. “I’ll be back,” Linna promised. “Champion Piriandra is taking me for deep-woods training first. But next semester, I’ll split my time between training with her and classes here. She says the academy is a valuable resource, and I’ve still a lot to learn that is better done in a controlled environment. Oh, Daleina, she’s taking me outside the capital! She believes in practical experience.”
“That’s wonderful,” Daleina said, trying to put as much enthusiasm in her voice as she could. She was happy for her friend, truly. “You’ll do great.”
“Don’t worry, Daleina,” Linna said, hugging her. “You’ll be chosen. We’ll face each other in the trials. And someday, we’ll be side by side at the coronation ceremony.”
“Of course we will,” Daleina said.
Stepping back, Linna surveyed her room. “It looks like I was never here. Do you think they’ll put another student here, or keep it for me when I come back?”
“I don’t know,” Daleina said. “Ask Mari.”
Linna nodded. “I can do this, right? I’m ready?”
“Absolutely.”
A knock sounded on the open door. Champion Piriandra filled the doorway. She was dressed all in dark green that hugged her body, showing the many knives and weapons that she had attached to her hips, thighs, and upper arms. She carried a slim pack as well. “Your belongings will be put into storage. I will provide the supplies you need, and we will sustain ourselves with food the forest provides.”
“Oh!” For an instant, Linna looked disconcerted. Even after all their survival classes, Daleina was sure that Linna hadn’t truly thought about what it meant to leave the safe cocoon of the academy. A week with Champion Piriandra would fix that. That was part of what the training with the champion was for: to take them out into the world, to change what had been theory into reality, before the fate of everyone depended on them. Daleina wished with every scrap inside her that she’d been the one going out to learn all that the champion could teach her. Linna plastered on her smile again. “Let me say goodbye to everyone, and then I’m ready!”
As soon as the champion inclined her head granting permission, Linna scampered out the door, leaving Daleina alone with the champion. Silently, the champion studied her, as if cataloguing her faults and failures. Daleina searched for something to say. “You chose well. Linna deserves this.”
“It’s not a reward; it’s a responsibility.”
Daleina winced. She hadn’t meant it to sound that way. “I know. I meant . . . she’s talented and she’ll work hard. And she’s a good person. She may seem delicate, but—”
“I will cure her of any delicacy.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Daleina trailed off. She hadn’t meant to imply that Linna had any flaws. She’d meant to praise her friend.
“I watched you as well,” the champion said. “I saw how hard you worked.”
“Uh, thank you.” She wanted to say, Then why didn’t you pick me?
“Your technique is solid. It is obvious that you are dedicated and work hard. But if you want a little friendly advice . . . that is your problem. You work hard at things that should come naturally to a candidate.”
Daleina felt her stomach sink. But I’m doing the best I can.
“There are many ways to serve Renthia. With academy training, you could work in the palace, or be invaluable at the border. You could join the guards and protect one of the towns. Your skills and dedication would also make you a boon to places relying on a hedgewitch with merely one affinity. To have someone with six would be miraculous to them. You would be valued and provide value. It’s a worthy path. Not everyone can be queen.”
She knew the champion was trying to be helpful. She couldn’t know how every word felt like a spoon shoved into Daleina’s heart, scooping it out. “But this is what I’m meant to do.”
Champion Piriandra studied her for a moment more. “Then I am sorry.”
Sorry that she didn’t choose Daleina? Or sorry that Daleina’s best wasn’t good enough? Sorry that she’d never be chosen? Sorry that she’d picked an impossible dream? Sorry that she’d wasted years of her life? Sorry that she was never going to do what she’d promised her little sister all those years ago that she’d do? Sorry that she was going to fail?
I won’t, Daleina thought. I can do this. I’m meant to do this. And if Champion Piriandra thinks I’m wasting my time, then that’s the only reason she should be sorry. . . .
Because she’s wrong.
She watched as the champion claimed Linna, and the two headed down the spiral staircase. Linna had a skip in her step and a bounce in her curls, and every few stairs, she paused to wave back at her friends. All of them waved back, including Daleina.
CHAPTER 11
The heir Sata crouched on a tree limb above the thieves and sighed inwardly. Three of them, and they hadn’t once bothered to look up. Not that she wanted to be seen, but honestly, have a little self-respect. You live in a three-dimensional world; you can’t just check right and left when you want to be sneaky.
Kids, she guessed. Probably dared one another to break into the palace. Or maybe it was more than a lark, and they were down on their luck. Whatever their reason, they should have started smaller, trained, and then tried to hit the palace. Not that she wanted lots of trained thieves running around. But still, she resented the unprofessionalism. It was keeping her from her well-earned sleep.
She’d been dreaming all night of snuggling into her downy bed, closing her eyes, and not opening them again until the smell of honeyed toast drifted into the bedroom. Her husband had hinted strongly that the morning would be theirs. He’d been granted half the day off from guard duty, and since she had the night shift . . . As soon as she took care of these so-called thieves, she’d be done.
Careful not to rustle any leaves, she followed above them as they crept closer to the palace boundaries. A clear stone wall marked the line between palace and city. Flecked with mica, it reflected in the torchlight. That is, except for here, a stretch of shadows close to the treasure pavilion, where the Crown displayed a few of its possessions for the public to enjoy. Silly children, Sata thought. Don’t they know the shadows are always watched? She lived in the shadows. Ever since she became heir, that had been her place. The night was her specialty. Also, anyplace with the word “treasure” in its name was obviously going to be guarded.
Idiots.
The thieves climbed the wall, crossing the perimeter, and inched together toward the display room. Encased in darkness, the pavilion was lovely in its inky blackness. Sata slipped down one of the pillars. She held out her hand, palm up, waiting, and she listened.
Scuffling. Shuffling. They were here.
Silently, she reached out with her mind. Light.
A fire spirit darted into the pavilion and alighted on her gloved palm. Its dancing body shed light on the pavilion, the treasures, the thieves, and her as she lounged against a pillar beside the three necklaces of Aratay, the pearls of Belene, and the chalice of Chell. “Looking for these?”
The Queen of Blood Page 12