“Any rumors on what the challenge will be?” Daleina asked.
“I don’t listen to rumors,” Ven said.
A familiar female voice rang through the room. “I do.”
Zie stood in the doorway, the same cheerful smile on her face but a scar above her eyebrow. She was flanked by Linna and Revi. Daleina broke away from Ven and Hamon and crossed to them, embracing her friends. Others joined them: Mari, Airria, Evvlyn, and Iondra. She waved away their concern over the fading cuts on her face and arms. “Tell me: the trials. Do you know what’s coming?”
No two trials were the same. Sometimes the candidates had to prove their worth in challenges like the maze, where the queen set spirits against them. Sometimes they had to demonstrate their ability in real-world situations, such as growing a new grove of trees or cultivating a new orchard. Sometimes the candidates were pitted against one another in a contest of strength. Daleina hoped they’d be able to build: new bridges, a library, a farm.
But none of them had any idea. Even Zie, who ate gossip for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, didn’t have any concrete clues as to what Queen Fara had in mind for them. “All I know is that we will have ‘unusual’ escorts to the palace.”
“Caretaker Undu said to gather in the practice ring,” Mari said.
“You still aren’t calling her Mother?” Revi shook her head in disapproval, and Daleina noticed her friend had honed herself, muscles on her arms that had never been there before, a readiness to her movements as if she were coiled to react to anything. All of them had that same air of readiness, and she wondered if she appeared that way to them. “She should be proud of you.”
“She is proud of me. It’s you she despairs of.”
Zie broke out in a peal of laughter. A little of the tension, and the coiled readiness, drained out of the room, and Daleina caught a glimpse of her old friends under the new hardness.
Iondra shooed them all toward the door. “We cannot be late.”
“It would be dramatic if we were,” Revi said. “Imagine if we made a queen wait for us.”
“We cannot disgrace Headmistress Hanna or the others,” Iondra scolded.
“Calm yourself, Iondra, I wasn’t serious. I know my duty,” Revi said. “You know, time outside the academy tree was supposed to unwind you. Didn’t any of you have fun in your training?”
Daleina wasn’t sure the word “fun” was applicable. “I rode the wire paths.”
“See? Someone had—wait, really? On purpose?” Revi shuddered. “Glad my champion preferred the forest floor. We worked a lot with earth spirits, which was fine by me. Give me a nice muddy earth spirit over an air spirit with a bad sense of humor any day.”
Daleina decided not to mention that she’d flown with an air spirit and it hadn’t been terrible.
Or that it had, in fact, been extraordinary.
All of them fell silent as they headed down the spiral staircase. They were swept up in a flow of other students, masters, and caretakers. As they descended, Daleina caught glimpses of the places that had once been her whole world: the classrooms, the baths, the dining hall. She remembered her first day here, seeing the oldest students, their seriousness and their silence, and she knew the younger students were now seeing them the same way. Glancing at her friends, she saw the hardness had returned to their faces, overlaid over all the old laughter she knew was there. She also felt the weight of the stares of the students from her year who hadn’t been chosen—Cleeri, Keshili, Tridonna . . . and she met the eyes of Andare, the caretaker boy. He raised his hand in a wave of luck.
Below, the practice ring was bare. The thin trees from the prior night had been swept away, subsumed by the earth. The waterfall that frequently flowed down the wood wall was dry. Together, the candidates clustered in the center of the circle of empty earth, while the other students and teachers—as well as their champions—encircled them.
Bells began to ring—morning bells, evening bells, all at once, a cacophony of chimes that drowned out the ordinary sounds of the academy until it was nothing but the peal of notes falling over one another and mashing together. And then the bells stilled, and there was silence.
Above, a flapping of a great many wings.
Daleina and the other chosen candidates looked up. The sky in the circle at the top of the academy was blotted by winged bodies, and Daleina felt them, spirits, dozens of them, their wings overlapping like the leaves in the canopy. She tensed, and she heard the same whisper ripple through the candidates: Is this the challenge? Were the trials beginning now, with this?
“Unusual escorts,” Zie said.
“Oh, fabulous. Flying,” Revi said. “I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast. No one fly downwind of me.”
Daleina shot a look at Ven, who was squeezed between two masters, his eyes only on her. She didn’t know if she was supposed to fight or accept this—was it an attack or merely “unusual” transportation? She didn’t feel any malice in the spirits above, beyond what she usually felt, but then she hadn’t felt any in the wood spirits who’d tried to crush her.
He nodded, and the muscles in her neck unknotted.
“If I’m ever queen,” Revi said, “I promise everyone will walk to their trials.”
“Then you will make an excellent queen,” Iondra said.
All of them fell silent again, watching, waiting, ready.
Spiraling down, the spirits soared in a pattern. Their bodies were translucent, each of them reflecting the shards of light that filtered through from above, as if carrying the sunlight down to them. One by one, they scooped up the candidates. Daleina forced herself to relax as two spirits clamped down hard on her arms and lifted her into the air. She could do this.
As if triggered by an unseen signal, the spirits soared together, carrying the candidates up the funnel of the academy. Daleina lifted her face upward as they burst out the top and felt the sun wash over her. This was what she loved: this moment, above the world, when she saw Aratay—more than that, Renthia itself—spread beneath her. She saw an unbroken sea of green leaves and, far in the distance, the hint of mountains that could have been clouds, or clouds that could have been mountains. There were farmlands beyond that, she knew, and ice fields. Somewhere, an ocean with islands like jewels. But this, this was her Renthia—these forests, these magnificent majestic forests with their tiny villages hidden in trees, waterfalls that tumbled off rocks, sun-dappled groves, shrouded roots that never saw sunlight, thick branches that supported hopes, dreams, lives.
Up here, she felt calm.
She clung to that sense of peace as the spirits flew toward the palace, its spires rising high above the other trees. It seemed to glow in the morning light. They flew toward it and then down. She heard other candidates cry out at the sudden shift, but she didn’t. She felt the wind in her face and kept her eyes open even as the air chilled her eyeballs. She saw the ground below them rushing toward them, the branches filled with people, so many people, watching them. When she landed, she looked the air spirits directly where she thought their eyes should be. “Thank you.”
They flew upward without acknowledging her. Around her, the other candidates clustered, about twenty-five in total, ranging from recent students like Daleina and her friends to more experienced students who had been training with their champions for several years.
She expected the queen to arrive in a spectacular way as well, carried by air spirits. Looking upward, she didn’t see when the queen walked out of the palace. She felt an elbow nudge her—Revi—and looked to see the queen standing before them. Queen Fara was every bit as exquisite as she’d looked in the throne room, everything a queen was supposed to be, as beautiful as the sky. Her hair cascaded onto bare shoulders that had been painted with lacelike vines and leaves. Her pale-blue gown pooled at her feet and spread behind her in a lace train. She wore a necklace of teardrop-shaped stones, and her crown was ivy.
“You have come to serve Aratay.” The queen’s voice was soft but somehow it carried.
It rang throughout the branches, perhaps through all of Aratay. “For that, I thank and honor you. I have been privileged to protect the people of our glorious forests for many years, and it is indeed a privilege, one that asks much of your mind, heart, body, and soul. It is not a responsibility to be assumed lightly, and for that reason, we have the trials.”
It felt as if everyone were holding his or her breath. Hundreds of breaths held, all at the same time. It was a silence that felt explosive.
“It’s time to prove your mastery over the spirits. Let us begin.”
Now?
Now.
The queen raised her arms up, and her sleeves fell back to her shoulders. Her bare arms circled in the air, and Daleina couldn’t help thinking that their queen had a flair for theatrics. She tried to push the thought down—she should be feeling respect and awe, not cynicism—but you didn’t need to dance your arms to summon spirits. Or maybe you did, if you wanted all eyes on you. The people who had gathered to watch all leaned forward, their breath still collectively held.
Ice spirits sailed through the air toward Queen Fara, frosting the summer leaves, crafting icicles on the branches, coating the bridges in a thin sheen of what looked like glass until everything glittered. They circled around the candidates, and an ice wall built around them, creating a circle, and then the ice spirits dispersed, melting into the now-frozen earth and skating up the side of the palace. Snow fell in their wake.
“This is your new practice ring,” Queen Fara said. “Call your best spirit.”
And with that, it began.
One by one, their names were called, and one by one, the candidates stepped into the center of the ring and summoned a spirit. Daleina watched the others as they chose the most impressive spirit they could. A woman with black skin and yellow hair summoned a fire spirit that howled within a column of fire. Another chose an earth spirit that slithered through the earth and curled around her feet, a massive snake with flat black eyes. Its body was thicker than a person. Linna called an air spirit that looked like a beautiful translucent woman with flowing iridescent wings. Mari called a water spirit that flooded the ring in an inch of water that flowed in like a wave and then pooled around Mari’s feet. She stood on the spirit’s scaled back.
Daleina tossed her senses outward, brushing the powerful minds of the spirits that the others had called. She felt the tiny palace spirits, watching curiously, hidden and wanting to stay hidden. She felt the city spirits, also drawn to watch, and she ran her mind up the trees toward the clouds. She could coerce one of the smaller spirits, but that wouldn’t be impressive—it would tremble, terrified, in the presence of the other, stronger spirits. But she didn’t think she could control one of the more powerful spirits. Not like these.
She glanced at the audience, which had grown. Ven was there, and Hamon; they’d traveled fast. She met Hamon’s eyes first—worried, of course. And then Ven’s. He was, surprisingly, smiling. Why? He had to know she couldn’t do this. She was weak when it came to control. In a contest of power to power, she was going to lose. Badly, publicly, humiliatingly, overwhelmingly.
Unless she didn’t try to control her spirit. Unless she tried to invite one.
“Candidate Daleina of Greytree,” the herald intoned.
Hands sweating, heart pounding, breath fast, Daleina stepped into the center of the ring. She felt eyes on her, both human and inhuman, and she tossed her mind up and out as far and hard as she could. Come play with me.
Silence.
And silence.
And then a rush of curiosity as a white streak separated from a cloud and flew in a spiral down toward her. It was an ermine-shaped air spirit—the same one? She couldn’t tell, but it dove fast, scooping beneath her, knocking her onto its back. She clung to it, and it spiraled up, flying her around the ring while the others watched. Linna waved to her. Revi was smiling. So was Ven, Hamon, the headmistress . . . She felt her cheeks stretch and knew she was beaming back at them.
Below, the next candidate was called.
Daleina stayed on the back of the air spirit, circling, as the remaining candidates each summoned a spirit until the ring was thick with spirits and their candidates. Everywhere, she saw feathers and scales and fur, tails and wings, twisted barklike faces and swanlike beauty. She felt their presence as well, the heat of their anger and hate prickling on her skin like summer air. Each candidate was focused on a single spirit.
The queen smiled. “You will be ranked based on the order in which your spirit leaves the ring—the one who stays the longest wins.
“Now . . . fight.”
CHAPTER 21
Fight?
Surely, she didn’t mean . . . But she did. On the back of the winged air spirit, Daleina saw the candidates fan out along the edge of the ice wall that formed the trial ring. Each of them was intent on her own spirit, conducting it. Mari’s water spirit drew a funnel of water from one of the streams that fed into the palace and threw it at a fire spirit, dousing the sparks that spread from its fingers. The fire spirit roared back and spun faster, a cyclone of flames that bore down on an earth spirit.
Daleina felt the confused question of her spirit: Play?
She didn’t know how to answer. She knew it wasn’t as strong as the other spirits, and if it was hurt, she wasn’t strong enough to force it to stay.
Fly higher, she told her spirit, but stay within the circle.
She wanted a better vantage point, to see where she could wade into the fray. She winced as a wood spirit tore the mud-flesh arm from an earth spirit. Spirits didn’t normally fight one another. This went against their nature, but the candidates pushed them hard, forcing them to attack over and over . . . until one after another, the spirits balked and fled. Some, because they didn’t want to cause pain. Others, because they didn’t want to feel it. An earth spirit burrowed far into the earth and out of the ring. An air spirit shot past Daleina and the winged ermine, exiting toward the clouds.
Another air spirit targeted them. Its fingers extended like knives, it dove for them, shrieking. Don’t let it catch you, Daleina told her ermine. Don’t leave the ring. Game!
Game! the spirit cried happily.
It evaded the other air spirit, and Daleina clung to its back as it twisted and spiraled. The ermine spirit laughed, a high bell-like sound that sounded too wild for the throat of any real creature. It sounded like raw wind, like a storm fresh from the sea. Daleina’s head spun, and her stomach lurched, but she held on.
The other air spirit was close behind them.
Down, Daleina said. Between!
Crying with delight, the ermine dove down, flying faster and faster as the earth rushed toward them. Closer, it sped between the other spirits, weaving between them as they attacked one another, drawing the other air spirit into their paths. The ermine then veered up, and Daleina looked behind them—the other air spirit had been caught in the wet tentacle arms of a water spirit.
Yes! She didn’t have to fight the others, she realized; she only had to outlast them. Clinging to the ermine, they spiraled up above. She felt the spirit’s joy. Fun, it seemed to be saying. Fun, she told it. Stay in the circle, but fun. She then let it do whatever it wanted to do.
It soared.
It dived.
It twisted, twirled, turned, and laughed as it zipped between the other spirits, a bolt of chaos between the serious fighting inside the ring. Daleina saw her friends’ faces, fierce in concentration, as they guided their spirits.
It occurred to Daleina that she wasn’t playing by the rules. But as the air spirit soared up, wind in her face, she didn’t care. It was a solid plan. Last to leave the ring wins. Ven had said that Queen Fara didn’t care about how she survived the trials, only that she did. Below, there were only a few spirits left. As she glided above them, she saw a twitch of movement below—one of the remaining spirits had noticed her.
Unfortunately, it too was an air spirit. It launched itself into the air, and the ermine flew higher.
Stay in the ring, Daleina told her spirit.
The ermine jackknifed and sped past the other air spirit, which looked like a massive winged lizard. The lizard flicked its tail at them, and caught her spirit in the stomach. Her spirit flew backward, and then caught itself, only a few inches from the edge of the ring.
The lizard spirit chased them. Daleina, glancing back, saw its teeth and claws. It would tear into her spirit’s soft fur, rend its wings. Her spirit couldn’t fight this. Daleina was going to have to let it flee.
As the ermine flew down close to the earth, Daleina let go and tumbled onto the floor of the ring. Save yourself, she told the ermine.
The ermine tried to obey, to evade the claws, but it had come too close to the practice ring. Another spirit grabbed its leg and yanked it down.
No! Daleina thought.
She looked across the practice ring. The other spirit was being controlled by Airria. Sweat beaded her forehead. Her hands were clenched into fists—the spirit was clearly fighting her control. And Daleina had an idea. She couldn’t order her spirit to attack the other spirit. It would never survive.
But she could order it to attack the one controlling the spirit.
As the ermine spirit cried out, Daleina bundled up all her emotion and threw a command at it: Hurt her.
Twisting away from the spirit, the ermine dove for Airria. It raked its claws across her chest. Crying out, Airria lost her grip on her spirit. And her spirit instantly fled.
The ermine dove for Airria again, and Daleina tried to stop it. Stop! It didn’t want to stop, and Daleina did the only other thing she could think of. Hurt me. Twisting, the ermine switched its attack from Airria to Daleina. Knowing it was coming, Daleina twisted at the last second so that the claws would scrape her back. She felt it pierce her tunic. And then the spirit was winging up toward the sky, beyond the ring.
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