The Queen of Sorrow

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “Queen Daleina and Queen Naelin wish for me to recite various pleasantries to you,” Hanna said. “Do you need to hear them, or can we pretend that I said them and proceed to the rest-and-refreshments stage of the welcome?”

  “They didn’t really send pleasantries, did they? Just told you to make some up.”

  Like I said—shrewd. “True.”

  “Then let’s save us both the hassle. I have much to show you, and we have much to discuss, and you have already had a long journey. Really, I don’t want you falling asleep on me while we’re solving the fate of our nations.”

  No wonder Merecot failed diplomacy class, Hanna thought. “Before I trust a single word you say, I will need to see Queen Naelin’s children.”

  “Of course,” Merecot said. To one of the guards, she said, “Fetch the children. We will be conducting our discussion in my audience chamber.”

  Hanna swallowed back myriad other questions—were the children well, how soon could they be returned, and what had Merecot been thinking by doing something so idiotic. Instead, she schooled her expression into polite interest and, pushed by her guards, followed Queen Merecot of Semo into the castle.

  Daleina has a vicious sense of humor, Merecot thought. That’s a surprise. She plastered a welcoming smile on her face—which felt as fake as the smile on a mask—as she ushered Headmistress Hanna into the castle.

  Ambassador Hanna, she corrected herself.

  Honestly, she didn’t think Daleina could have picked anyone who would have irritated Merecot more, or set her more on edge. She felt the flesh between her shoulder blades itch as if it were being prodded by the tip of a knife, but it was only the ambassador’s gaze. Full of disapproval, undoubtedly. Merecot half expected to be confronted by a stack of exams and report cards and then lectured about all her academic failings.

  I would have passed if I’d tried, she thought. She simply hadn’t deemed it worth her time to bother. Clever of Daleina not to tell me whom she was sending. The missive had stated only that an ambassador would be arriving within the week. So when the headmistress of her old academy had been lifted out of the chariot, looking about one hundred and fifty years old with her startlingly white hair and thousand wrinkles, Merecot was . . . surprised. Even shocked. Perhaps displeased. Pissed off, Merecot thought.

  And guilty.

  It was hard not to feel that as she walked alongside the headmistress’s wheeled contraption. She didn’t let it show, of course—she was determined to be the perfect hostess and the consummate queen—but it needled her nevertheless as she regally escorted her guests through the jewel-encrusted mirrored halls to the audience chamber, a beautifully ornate room filled with red velvet couches, black basalt statues, and crystal chandeliers. She instructed her servants to bring an assortment of their finest wines and Semoian delicacies, and then she called for several musicians to play a few of the less grating mountain tunes.

  “The children will arrive soon,” she told her guest. “Until they do, I’d be honored if you’d agree to begin our discussion. I know you’ve had a long journey, but the situation in Semo is urgent. If you could delay your rest until after I’ve presented the problem to you, I would appreciate it.” See, I can be as delightful and gracious as Daleina.

  Hanna gave her a narrow, condescending look—the same one Merecot had seen so many times at the academy. “You aren’t happy to see me.”

  Merecot kept her smile. “Of course I am thrilled and honored. I asked for an ambassador, and the queens of Aratay sent one of their favorite pets.”

  Ambassador Hanna’s eyebrows shot up, and Merecot again felt fifteen years old, standing in the headmistress’s office after the entrance exam and listening while this woman berated her for her so-called-selfish ambition and questioned her commitment.

  “Poor word choice?” Merecot offered.

  Two servants wheeled a tray of pastries, including a cake with steam rising from its center, as well as crystal glasses, each with a different wine in shades from pearl to blood-red. They parked it in front of the headmistress’s chair. Hanna selected one of the smaller pastries, stuffed with lamb and herbs, but didn’t eat it. “I’m sure it was exactly the word you wanted to use. But to be clear: I volunteered for this. If we are being honest with each other, I thought diplomacy would be best served by an ambassador who could see you as the child you once were, rather than the murderer you’ve become. How’s that for word choice?”

  Around them, the servants and guards, despite their training, let out shocked gasps. Merecot folded her hands and tried to decide if she was offended or impressed. “Beautifully phrased.”

  “It’s a gift,” Hanna said modestly.

  It’s something.

  But if Hanna was willing to be that blunt . . . then perhaps this wouldn’t be a disaster after all. Merecot narrowed her eyes as she studied her old headmistress. Perhaps Daleina hadn’t sent her as an insult. Hanna had ruled the Northeast Academy for twice as many years as Merecot had been alive. She’d seen queens rise and fall, survived events that should have killed her off many times over. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a chance this would work. . . .

  “Leave us,” Merecot barked at the servants and guards.

  Of course, Hanna’s guards didn’t leave, and Merecot’s own guards objected to leaving their queen alone with a foreign national and her soldiers, but Merecot overruled them.

  Hanna placed her uneaten pastry on a plate and crossed her hands, waiting politely.

  Silence fell over the audience chamber. Merecot felt the twisted metal crown scratch against her scalp and was aware she’d picked a gown of too-heavy material. She was sweating beneath it and hoped that wasn’t noticeable. “Come with me,” Merecot said. “Alone. You must see if you are to understand. We won’t be gone long, and the children will be here by the time we return, so no time will be wasted.”

  She saw Hanna hesitate and shoot looks at her guards. Her guards would not like this, but Merecot did not care. It was essential for the ambassador to see what she faced, and that couldn’t happen in the ornate safety of the castle.

  This better work, Merecot thought, or I’ll be humiliating myself for nothing. In order to prove that all she claimed was true, she’d have to show weakness to her former headmistress. She has to see that Semo can’t continue like this, that I can’t continue.

  “You ask too much—”

  “You know I have killed before for what I want, so trust me when I say I would kill to protect you,” Merecot said. “Not because I like you. But because I need you.”

  Strangely, it was Merecot’s blunt admission of guilt that made Hanna want to trust her. At least, within reason. Addressing her guards, Hanna ordered, “Test the food for poisons. I’d like to eat when I return.”

  “There’s no poison in the food,” Merecot said dismissively.

  “Of course there isn’t,” Hanna said with a smile. “Merely a precaution. You’ll have to pardon an old lady for her paranoia. After all, it’s not as if you’ve poisoned anyone before.” Before Hanna had left Mittriel, the Queen’s Poisoner had given her and her guards packets of powders to use to test for poisons—they couldn’t identify all poisons, but Merecot wouldn’t know that. They could at least weed out any obvious ones and hopefully serve as a deterrent for any more imaginative concoctions.

  “Aren’t ambassadors supposed to be more diplomatic?” Merecot asked.

  “How would you know? As I recall, you cheated on those exams.” For a brief moment, Hanna wondered if she was taking the wrong tack, baiting a queen. Ultimately, though, she found it wasn’t as important as not conceding anything at this point. It’s crucial for Merecot to know she doesn’t frighten me, even with her crown and all her queenly power. Especially since I have something she needs: Daleina’s trust.

  “You came here determined to see the worst in me,” Merecot said. “I hope you’ll feel differently after our venture.”

  Behind her, Hanna heard her guards mutter to one an
other. Stepping forward, into Hanna’s line of sight, Evenna spoke for all of them. “Madam Ambassador, I must object. It’s our duty to accompany you.” She was glaring at Merecot as if she did see the worst in her and had no intention of stopping. Her fingertips were drumming on her sword hilt, and she looked as tense as a jackrabbit. If I said “attack,” she’d be mid-leap before I finished the word.

  “Peace can only thrive in an atmosphere of trust, which is what we are trying to build here.” Hanna leveled her most stern, no-nonsense headmistress look at Merecot. “Am I correct in assuming your motives are honorable?”

  Merecot’s lips twitched. “I’m always honorable, though the code I abide by is my own.”

  Hanna snorted but didn’t argue with her. She’d already put her life in Merecot’s hands once, when she’d chosen to ride in her chariots. To balk now would be foolish. I didn’t come to Semo because it was the safe thing to do. “Let’s go.” She pivoted her chair and headed for the hallway, but Merecot stopped her.

  “I have a better way,” Merecot said with an obnoxiously arrogant smile. Crossing the room, the queen threw open the windows. Mountain air swirled into the room, stirring the curtains.

  Hanna suppressed a sigh. Merecot always did like to show off. Keeping a pleasant expression on her face, she wheeled herself back as Merecot summoned an air spirit. It swooped down, hovering just outside the open window. Like the ones who had pulled the chariot, this one had the shape of a winged horse. Its wings were closer to a bat’s than a bird’s, it had the sharp teeth of a wolf, and it wore a saddle that was, like everything here, dotted with jewels. Jewels must be as common as leaves here, Hanna thought.

  With a flourish, Merecot turned back to them, as if expecting applause.

  “You have your spirits well trained,” Hanna observed politely.

  Merecot let out a laugh that was more of a bark. “Some of them.” And with that cryptically bitter statement, she climbed out the window and mounted the air spirit.

  At Hanna’s command, her guards lifted her out of her chair and onto the spirit. Evenna whispered a steady stream of words of caution, and Serk grunted his agreement, but she had to ignore them as she settled into the saddle. She was sorry this was upsetting her guards. In truth, it was upsetting her—she wished this could have waited until tomorrow so she’d have a chance to rest. Not likely to—

  The spirit launched itself into the air before she could even complete the thought. They flew northwest, wind in their faces and other air spirits all around them, flitting and diving and chattering on the wind.

  As they flew farther, Hanna saw a red smear in the distance. It looked like an ember against the clouds. And then she lost sight of it as the spirit plunged into a cloud. They flew for what felt like hours, shrouded in murkiness whiteness. She lost track of time. The chill from the air settled into her bones, making them ache, and the roar of the wind in her ears became a steady hum.

  When they at last emerged, the red smear was no longer distant. Hanna saw it clearly: a volcano, mid-eruption. A live volcano! In Semo! This can’t be!

  Yet clearly it could.

  Fire spirits danced in the center of the flame, and around the eruption, air spirits flew in circles rapidly enough to create a cyclone, the wind containing the fire and ash and funneling it upward. It looks, Hanna thought with a shudder, like what you’d see across the borders of Renthia, in the untamed lands. But that’s impossible—

  “Look and witness!” Merecot called over the wind. “You see before you our bane! You know we have too many spirits. But what you and Queen Daleina don’t grasp is what that means. These ‘excess spirits’ chose me as their queen, the same as every other spirit in Semo. They’re linked to me. But unlike the others, they are not linked to the land. They can’t join with it, even though they want to; there simply isn’t enough land to go around. And so they seek to destroy it, to unmake it.”

  Hanna reached out with her mind. She didn’t have much range, but it didn’t take much to touch the spirits in the wind. A fierce hunger slammed into her, and she recoiled. The spirits’ minds swallowed hers, and she couldn’t feel her own body, couldn’t tell if she was holding on to the saddle—and then her grip loosened, and she slid to the side, off the saddle.

  She fell.

  Spirits surrounded Hanna, and she was swept into the cyclone. She lost every sense of what was up, down, and sideways as she tumbled through the sky. The heat from the volcano pounded against the circle of wind, and the sound was a roar that penetrated into her bones.

  If I die here, she will be blamed . . . but I’ll still be dead.

  Hanna reached out with her mind and tried to control the nearest air spirits—but they were too wild, and she wasn’t strong enough. She felt herself slipping, blackness crawling into her vision and across her mind, until she lost consciousness.

  When she came to, Hanna was lying awkwardly across Merecot’s lap, on the back of the air spirit. Raising her head, she saw mountains—they were nowhere near the volcano and cyclone. I’m alive. That’s a surprise.

  “Not dead?” Merecot asked, and then exhaled an enormous sigh. “Thank the spirits. Or more accurately, thank me. Couldn’t you have strapped yourself on if you knew you were prone to fainting?”

  “I am not prone to fainting,” Hanna said indignantly. “You have an active volcano in your land! Not to mention unchecked tornadoes.” She would have been satisfied with a more distant view. An up-close tour hadn’t been necessary. Merecot’s flair for the dramatic nearly got me killed. If Hanna weren’t positioned like a saddlebag, she would have delivered a scathing glare.

  “What I was about to say, before you had your moment of melodrama, was that the excess spirits are the reason that I invaded Aratay. There’s plenty of room in your forests for them—look at all the barren areas! If I had been able to spread my spirits across both Semo and Aratay, then there would be enough land for all of them, and my people wouldn’t have to live in constant fear of an eruption or avalanche wiping out everything and everyone they hold dear.”

  Hanna mentally checked her body. It all ached. She felt as if she were one massive bruise. It hurt to breathe. Even her legs twinged, though she knew that was false pain. And yet what bothered her the most was the nonsense penetrating her ears. “So this is why you tried to kill Daleina? You wanted to rule both Semo and Aratay, in order to save Semo?”

  “Yes. Exactly so.”

  “It never occurred to you to simply talk to her first? Ask for help? She might have been able to offer help with controlling them.”

  “Frankly, no. But now that I know she’s amenable to negotiations, I’d appreciate it if you would present her with my request: send Queen Naelin to Semo to help me with the excess spirits. Our combined power may be enough to tame the excess spirits and save this land.”

  Hanna shook her head. “Why would they possibly help you? Both queens have ample reason to distrust you. You attacked our country, and you poisoned Daleina. You took Queen Naelin’s children, and attacked the wolf Bayn.”

  “I had to get her attention! Daleina promised in the grove that she would assist me, but that help hasn’t materialized. And Semo can’t wait much longer. You saw the volcano! Even I can’t contain forces like that forever, and when my strength fails . . .”

  Hanna was surprised to hear frustration in her voice. And fear.

  “Let me show you what’s at stake.”

  At Merecot’s command, the air spirit soared eastward. While Hanna’s position across the saddle was not the most comfortable, it did afford her an excellent view of Semo. It was quite a populous land, with pockets of houses tucked onto the sides of mountains and in the valleys between them. Most of the lower slopes were farmed, with terraces and plateaus, and the houses themselves were either within the mountain, cavelike, or jutting out at dizzying heights. Hanna could see why they’d be afraid of out-of-control spirits—their lives were precarious enough as it was.

  It’s responsible of Merecot t
o care about them, Hanna thought. Regardless of whether Merecot cared because she didn’t want to be a failure or whether she truly felt empathy, the result was the same—Merecot believed she was acting in her people’s best interests. That much was clear. Her passion was well placed.

  It was only her choice of actions that was flawed.

  Very, very flawed.

  When they reached the palace in Arkon, the air spirits flew through the open window and servants and guards swarmed over Hanna and Merecot. Hanna’s guards fussed over her until she shooed them back. Sinking into one of the velvet couches, Hanna stuffed herself with pastries and sipped at the sweet wines, trying to corral her mind into thinking coherently.

  Merecot hadn’t overstated the problem. Now that Hanna had seen it for herself, she understood better the desperation that had driven her to act so recklessly.

  But that didn’t excuse all the harm she had done.

  “You said I would see the children when we returned,” Hanna said. If she had treated the children well, if she intended to bargain with them in good faith . . . Or as “good faith” as possible for a kidnapper and murderer . . . if she was acting with the best interests of her people in mind, then perhaps this could still all be resolved happily.

  “Perhaps” being the key word, she thought. But still . . . if there was even a chance at a peaceful resolution . . . We don’t have to forgive her for all she’s done, but we do have to find a way to coexist with her.

  Merecot crossed to the door and flung it open. “Send them in!”

  Hanna heard them before she saw them: laughing and shouting, their feet pounding on the stone corridor, and then two richly dressed children tumbled into the room.

  Erian and Llor.

  Their faces were flushed. They were smiling. They were alive.

  Seeing Hanna, Llor’s face lit up. “I know you! Erian, Erian! Look! We know her!” Both of them rushed to her side.

  “Headmistress Hanna!” Erian said. “We’re so happy to see you! Queen Jastra told us we’d be seeing a familiar face soon.”