The Deepest Blue

by Sarah Beth Durst

  He didn’t know.

  “Do you know where we can find the new queen?” Roe demanded. “Is she in the palace? Or is she still in the grove?”

  Again, he didn’t know.

  “Can you point us in the direction of the grove?” Mayara jumped in.

  He seemed relieved, perhaps because she’d asked a question he knew how to answer. “Yes, of course. Left at the end of the docks, then keep to the shore. It’s at the base of the palace’s tallest tower. Can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you,” Mayara said.

  “You’ll want robes. You can’t walk through the city today like that. Not on Coronation Day. There are extras at the end of the dock.”

  Both Mayara and Roe thanked him as Garnah began to complain that she didn’t want robes, her dress was delightful, he was rude, and couldn’t he do something about those damn endless bells? Coming up beside her, Mayara shepherded Garnah past the official.

  “Mark down that it’s the queen’s ship,” Roe suggested to him.

  Looking relieved, he made notes in his ledger. “It’s a difficult day,” the man said. “It’s important to heed the rules on difficult days.”

  Garnah made a snorting sound, and Mayara heard her grumbling about “small people with small minds clinging to their minutiae” as they hurried down the dock.

  “Please don’t cause trouble,” Mayara whispered to her. “We can’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  It was important that no one stopped them before they reached the queen. The quicker they did this, the better. Especially if the queen was Lanei.

  Stepping off the dock, Mayara saw a heap of white fabric on a cart. She drew three robes out of the pile. They were more like cloaks, designed to wrap around whatever you wore, with a simple ribbon at the neck to tie them on. As they dressed, Mayara noticed that unless they were in uniform like the harbor official, everyone wore similar white robes.

  Mourning robes.

  Her village didn’t keep with that tradition, but the city did.

  “It’s to symbolize that we’re all the same,” Roe explained. “We’ve felt a loss, yet we still live. We’re sharing our pain. It’s meant to be comforting. Like the bells.”

  “I am not comforted,” Garnah said. “And my pain is no one else’s business.”

  “Think of it as wearing a disguise,” Mayara offered. In the robes, they’d blend in. She thought the Silent Ones who knew them from Akena were all on Olaku Island, but it was best not to take unnecessary risks. “Come on. If Lanei is still at the grove, we might be able to talk to her alone. If it is Lanei.”

  They followed the official’s directions, turning left down a shell-encrusted path along the shore. It was only a few minutes before they saw it.

  The grove lay cradled in the bones of a leviathan. A rib cage, polished by the wind, protected it from the sea. Just beyond the bones, waves slammed against the shore, and just behind it was the soaring spire of the tallest tower of the palace. The tower was doorless, and the windows were so high that Mayara saw them only as smudges on the iridescent shell wall.

  “No guards,” Garnah noted.

  “Is that a bad sign?” Roe asked.

  “The grove is sacred,” Mayara said. “It shouldn’t need to be guarded.” She’d heard stories about the coronation grove since she was a kid. Every country had one: a special place where a woman of power could bond with all the spirits linked to their land. Entering it when one wasn’t an heir ready to take the reins of power was . . . tacky, at best.

  Most likely, they’d enter the grove, find an heir at her post, and have to answer a slew of potentially embarrassing or incriminating why-are-you-here questions. That’s the best case. In the best case, a trained heir was the new queen, and Lanei had never made it to Yena.

  “That’s stupid,” Garnah said. “Of course sacred spaces should be guarded. You have an unwarranted faith in people’s ability to respect what’s important.” She lifted her ruffled skirts to climb over a chunk of rock.

  “Without a queen, we all die,” Roe said. “It’s fear, not respect.”

  “So that’s why no guards,” Mayara said, hoping she was right. There was something eerie about the emptiness of the path to the grove. Behind them the city was filled with white-robed men, women, and children, mourning the death of the old queen and rejoicing the ascension of the new. Every bell had been ringing nonstop, an endless proclamation of the fact that the world had changed again and they’d survived. Or at least survived so far, she thought.

  “Still think it’s short-sighted,” Garnah said. “You can’t post a few guards for a place this important?”

  “It always has an heir stationed here,” Roe argued. “She can call on spirits to defend the grove against whoever wants to disrespect it.”

  “You people trust in tradition too much,” Garnah said. “You realize if Belene cared less about tradition and more about—”

  Roe cut her off. “Stop.”

  She rushed forward, down the final curve of the path and in between two vertical ribs. Mayara wondered what she’d seen and felt her stomach lurch. It couldn’t be good. She felt as if she was beginning to forget what a good surprise felt like. Yes, she’d seen Kelo and had confirmation that he wasn’t dead, but she’d also been parted from him again ridiculously quickly.

  Mayara and Garnah followed after, coming into the grove behind Roe.

  Inside the bones, there was a circle of blue stones with cracks that ran like veins through them, with smooth obsidian in the middle.

  A body lay facedown in the center.

  “It’s an heir,” Roe said flatly.

  Mayara saw the uniform. She’s right.

  Blood pooled, rich red against the black stone. No one else was in the stone circle. “Did spirits kill her?” Mayara asked. I can’t believe I’m hoping for that.

  Garnah knelt beside her. “Not unless Belenian spirits kill with knives.” Nudging the body over, she revealed the hilt of a blade buried in the heir’s heart.

  Mayara stared at the blade, seeing again the queen on the beach, dying. It was hard to breathe. Placing her hands on her knees, she tried to suck in enough air so that her head stopped spinning. It was like being underwater for too long, with dark bubbles popping in her vision.

  This must have been Lanei’s plan. All of it. Murder a queen. Murder an heir. And all the while, see herself as the hero righting the wrongs of the world.

  “We need to tell someone,” Mayara said.

  Garnah snorted. “And be accused of her murder?”

  “Lanei is queen now,” Roe said, her voice hollow.

  She’s right. That’s what this meant. And if it were true, then an untrained woman was now the only one who could keep Belene safe . . . a woman who didn’t know what she needed to know to protect the islands. Mayara thought of Kelo and their village. “We have to find her before it’s too late.”

  “Exactly what do you call ‘too late’? My mother is dead! This heir is dead!”

  Gathering herself, Mayara straightened. “‘Too late’ is everyone dead. Come on. We have to deliver your mother’s message.” She made herself look at the heir’s body. “It’s my fault. If I’d left Lanei on the island . . .”

  “She would have killed us,” Roe said.

  “The spirits hadn’t killed us,” Mayara said. “We could have hidden from them and from her. All we needed to do was survive a few more weeks.”

  “I’m the one who told you to remove the traps.”

  “You wanted to save people.”

  “Mayara—stop it. If anyone is to blame, it’s Lanei,” Roe said firmly. “And she’ll pay for it.”

  “But you can’t touch her,” Mayara said. “She’s the queen. She’ll be defended by both soldiers and spirits. She’s a hundred times more powerful now that she’s linked to the spirits of Belene. Plus, we can’t kill her. Belene needs a queen. You felt it when all the spirits were wild.”

  “Another heir will take her place,” Roe said.
“She shouldn’t be queen. She’s a murderer. I don’t know that I believe her that she hadn’t killed before. She said she didn’t kill anyone in the first group. What if she was lying?”

  “You still plan to murder her?” Mayara said. “Roe, that’s not you. You’re the one who thinks of others, not herself. You’re the one who believes in what’s right. You’re the one who always wanted to be a hero. I only wanted an ordinary life.” She was grateful that Garnah had stayed silent, watching them with a vaguely amused expression. Mayara focused just on Lanei. “She needs the information we have, about how to reach the Deepest Blue before the leviathans wake. We find her. We don’t kill her. And she makes sure the monsters stay asleep. Exactly as you promised your mother.”

  MAYARA WRAPPED HER ROBE CLOSE AS THEY HURRIED THROUGH THE streets. She felt as if the blood she’d seen had stained her somehow, even though her eyes told her that the cloth was still crisp white and that she looked no different from any of the other Belenians on the streets of the city.

  The bells still rang, but she barely heard them anymore.

  I don’t belong here.

  It hit her hard. On the beach, saying goodbye to Kelo, she’d been so certain that accompanying Roe was the right thing to do. But maybe this wasn’t a dive she should make.

  This should never have been her responsibility. Except that she had been the fool who trusted Lanei, who believed she’d convinced her to go along with their plan . . . and instead, Lanei had been the one convincing Palia. . . . How could I have misjudged them both so badly?

  Around them, the city was flooded with people. Shops were closed, and every islander was in the streets. Sugary candies were being given out from carts that would usually have held fruits, flowers, and fish—it was part of the Coronation Day tradition, to remind everyone that life can be sweet even while it can vanish as quickly as sugar melts on the tongue.

  She remembered tasting the sugar drops years ago, when Queen Asana had been crowned. It hadn’t meant much to her then—the transition had been quick, and no one had died before the new queen asserted her dominance over the spirits. So it was just a nice treat. No lessons. Just sugar. That afternoon, she and Kelo had played on the rocks, poking at starfish in the tidal pools and watching the crabs scuttle back and forth. They’d been allowed to stay up late, and Grandmama had pointed out the constellations, naming them and telling stories about the leviathans whose bones comprised much of the islands.

  She wondered if Kelo was remembering that day too. Had he eaten any sugar drops? Was he all right? Had he made it to the village in time? What had he told the others about the queen’s parents? She wondered if they were able to mourn while still hiding who they were.

  She wondered who would be mourning the heir who still lay in her own blood in the grove. Another heir would be coming to replace her. She’ll be found soon.

  The heirs wouldn’t allow the grove to be unguarded for long.

  She wondered what they made of Lanei, an untrained heir as queen. Maybe one of them has already told her about the Deepest Blue. Maybe we’re worrying for nothing.

  She imagined they’d tell Lanei, and Lanei would inform Mayara and Roe that it was all taken care of. Maybe she’d even have an explanation for what happened with the queen—that Palia had misunderstood and had acted rashly and independently. But Mayara knew even as the thought blossomed that it was ridiculous. Lanei had maneuvered herself into position to become queen. She’d murdered an heir. Of course the queen’s murder hadn’t been a “misunderstanding.”

  What will she do to us if we go to her? Lanei would know they knew the truth. But we promised the queen. And if Lanei isn’t told . . .

  “Maybe another heir has already told her,” Mayara said. “Maybe it would be better if we left. Got as far away from here as possible.” Back home. To hide in the village she came from. She’d never told Lanei where her home was. She could live out her life in anonymity. . . .

  Unless Lord Maarte came for her.

  Unless the Silent Ones returned.

  Surely Elorna would help protect her. And Kelo would hide her and Roe. And Garnah, I guess. Except that Lanei didn’t know who Garnah was.

  “Are you willing to risk your islands on a ‘maybe’?” Garnah asked.

  “Lanei won’t be happy to see us,” Mayara said. “Maybe you could tell her, Lady Garnah. She doesn’t know you know what she’s done.”

  “She doesn’t know me at all,” Garnah said. “She may not listen.”

  “Are you afraid of her?” Roe asked Mayara.

  Of course. She was more afraid than she’d ever felt on Akena Island. At least then she’d been certain she was doing the right thing by hiding. Here, she was doing the opposite of hiding. She was diving through a monster’s skull, but there was no clear pool of water at the bottom. “Yes. She’s a murderer, and now she has the power of a queen.”

  But neither Roe nor Garnah slowed. And so Mayara kept pace with them. She saw the palace rising up before them. It was curved like a shell, and a bridge made of translucent blue stone broke like a frozen wave through the gilded doorway.

  A crowd of white-robed islanders had gathered by the blue bridge. Many were laying flowers and sugar drops at the foot of the bridge. A few were singing the mourner’s lullaby. Others were embracing and laughing, grateful to be alive.

  It was an odd day, Coronation Day.

  Usually most islanders felt relief.

  They won’t feel relief if the leviathans come, Mayara thought grimly. She didn’t turn aside. Instead she followed Roe and Mayara to the blue stone bridge. She waited for a moment, wondering if they would be allowed across, while Lady Garnah spoke with the guard.

  Then they were waved through.

  She tried to remember the Mayara she used to be, before the island and before Lanei. She’d been fearless, reckless even, trying to live large enough for two. She didn’t feel like that Mayara anymore. She’d seen death and fear and loss. But she was diving in anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Beyond the known world, beyond the horizon, beyond where any ship had ever sailed, deep within the sea, where the currents were thick and powerful and the sun was a weak shadow of nearly forgotten daylight, slept the wild spirits.

  They were all water spirits and all ancient. They could remember a time before humans when they were supreme, when they were the only ones who created and destroyed.

  They felt when the queen who told them such soothing lullabies died. Her absence was like the removal of a blanket. They felt the water on their skin, the coolness of the depths, and their minds churned sluggishly.

  Another would come. Sing them back to sleep. Give them the dreams they so desperately craved. They wanted to sleep, to dream, to exist again in that long-ago age and forget that the world had moved on. Being awoken was like feeling the Great Mother die once more. Once more, they remembered they were alone.

  They woke and they waited.

  But no one came.

  And slowly, they remembered everything.

  Three of them woke, giant monsters that dwarfed imagination. One was shaped like a dragon with a scaly serpent’s body, blackened wings, and eyes that were white-hot embers. Another was a kraken, with tentacles the thickness of a ship’s hull. And the third was a many-headed snake, with a body that could wrap around the city of Yena.

  They swam unerringly toward Belene.

  INSIDE THE PALACE, MAYARA FELT AS SMALL AND DRAB AS ONE OF the swallows that nested in the eaves. Everything was encased in nacre. Like my wedding dress. She thought again of Kelo. She wondered if he’d come here to meet the queen—there hadn’t been a chance for him to tell her his story. She felt as if she’d plunged into a world in which she didn’t belong.

  If she stayed in it long enough, she wondered if she’d lose herself, the way she did when she dived deep, becoming one with the blue until she forgot she still had to breathe.

  They’d all given their names to an official who’d told them to wait.
Mayara could tell that the others wanted to storm in and demand to see the queen, but it was more sensible to be invited. They’d have a better chance of convincing Lanei to listen if they didn’t barge in.

  They waited for several minutes, with both Roe and Garnah growing more impatient by the second. Roe paced back and forth over the iridescent tiles, while Garnah sat, drummed her fingers on the armrest, then stood, then sat again.

  Mayara wished she were home.

  I don’t belong here.

  A courtier wearing a white uniform edged with gold approached them. His hands were tucked into his sleeves across his body, and he inclined his head as he approached them. “Lady Garnah, welcome back to the palace.”

  “Am I welcome?” Garnah asked. “That’s nice to hear. I know there’s a new queen. Will she hear my council?”

  “I am most sorry, Lady Garnah, but she will not,” the courtier said. “You, of course, are still welcome to the comforts of your room. The new queen, however, does not wish to consult with those who were closest to the old queen at this time. She wishes you to use this time to mourn and to decide the shape of your future.”

  Garnah snorted. “She’s afraid of me.”

  Roe stepped forward. “Will she see me? I only want to speak with her. She owes me at least this much.”

  The courtier shook his head. “I am sorry, Lady Rokalara, but the only one of you that the queen has agreed to see is the one called Mayara.” He turned to Mayara. “Am I correct in thinking that’s you?”

  Mayara stared at him for a moment. “Me? Yes. Yes, that’s me.”

  “Very well,” the courtier said. “Follow me.”

  The courtier proceeded out of the room, expecting Mayara to follow.

  Mayara didn’t want to talk to Lanei alone. She didn’t want to talk to her at all. But she’d come this far, and Kelo was counting on her to do this, to make sure that the islands were safe. She started forward.

  Roe caught her arm. “You can’t let her get away with this.”