Daleina wanted to shake her by the shoulders. “You are a young girl.”
“So were you not too long ago. I may be young, but I know how to defend myself.”
“Against a queen? Against her spirits?”
Pressing her lips together, Arin reached up to the tiny spirit that had nested in Daleina’s hair. Do no harm, Daleina reminded the spirit. Gently, Arin untangled the hair around it and lifted it over the crown. Cooing to it, she held the spirit cupped in her hands.
Daleina held her breath. She knew exactly how much courage it took for Arin to stand there, holding something that had the capacity to maim or kill her when Arin had no power to—
Shifting the spirit to one hand, Arin drew out a powder with another and blew it into the face of the spirit. And the spirit stiffened as if it had been frozen.
Arin set it down on the workbench and flicked it with her finger.
The spirit fell over.
“I know potions that can flay the flesh off them,” Arin said. “Potions that cause them to sleep. Potions that confuse them. I can set them on fire with one vial of the right powders. I can cause them to drown in their own breath. I can stop them from harming me or Queen Naelin. Let me go, Daleina. I will make you proud.”
Daleina stared at her.
Arin stared back.
Laughing, Garnah applauded.
“Absolutely not,” Daleina said, storming out of the room as regally as she could.
Everyone had an opinion on who should accompany Queen Naelin, what route they should take, when they should leave, and what supplies and weapons and gifts they should bring with them. Ensconced in a throne room, Queen Daleina listened to the string of chancellors, champions, and others who all knew best until her head throbbed.
She nodded politely at each one and instructed her seneschal to take a note, which he diligently did. She agreed to putting together an entourage of courtiers, diplomats, and guards. She agreed to task tailors and seamstresses with crafting royal gowns that would impress the Semoians. She even entertained the suggestion of designing a new flag for Aratay, which a standard-bearer—who would of course be part of the entourage—would carry. And she accepted offers from historians who wished to record this historic trip, singers who wanted to immortalize it, and an artist who wanted to paint the grand journey.
All told, if she followed the advice, preparations would take two months.
Her cheeks began to ache from smiling so much as she listened and nodded to the final opinionated visitor of the day. She kept smiling as the seneschal led him out the throne room door and closed it firmly behind him.
She massaged her cheeks. “They’re under way, yes?”
The seneschal nodded. “Queen Naelin left with Champion Ven several hours ago. They should be well beyond Mittriel by now.”
Daleina sagged back into the throne. “Excellent.”
Neither of them mentioned Arin, though she knew her seneschal knew everything she knew. She’ll be safe, that’s what’s important, Daleina thought. Someday she’ll forgive me.
“Pardon me for asking, Your Majesty, but won’t your advisers and the chancellors be irate when they discovered you deceived them?”
She waved her hand nonchalantly. “I will be irate when I discover that Queen Naelin deceived me and left of her own volition. But then I will accept that one queen can’t command another, and Queen Naelin has an independent streak.”
The seneschal collected the papers. She watched him as he sorted them, piled them, and then straightened the edges. I would have just tossed them in the fire, she thought, but she said nothing.
“You disapprove?” she asked.
“Never, Your Majesty,” he said instantly. “It’s not my place.”
“It’s everyone’s place to have an opinion. What’s yours?”
“On the contrary, it is my job to not pass judgment on the decisions of Her Majesty, only to ensure the smooth execution of her wishes.” He hesitated. “I do, however, worry.”
Daleina felt herself smile, in spite of everything. “As do I, Belsowik. But Naelin and Ven will be safer and faster on their own than in a group waving a flag that says ‘Target here!’” She trusted Champion Ven and Queen Naelin to reach Semo without an army at their side. Ven could defend against all physical dangers, and Naelin could handle anything magical thrown at them. They’ll be perfectly safe, she thought.
At least until they reach Merecot.
My turn for an adventure! Arin thought, and she stifled her grin. She didn’t want Champion Ven and Queen Naelin to see how excited—and nervous—she was. In truth, she hadn’t expected Champion Ven to invite her along after Daleina had said no so adamantly. He’d told her why he’d wanted her: in addition to requiring her skills with potions, he wanted an excuse to stop at her parents’ house on the way. He didn’t want Queen Naelin to have to camp outside any more than strictly necessary, but he didn’t want anyone to guess where she was.
Champion Ven had insisted they leave stealthily. She’d never done much sneaking, but she liked it. They’d exited the palace through the kitchen, carrying sacks of nut flour out to the food-storage tree—Arin hadn’t even known there was a food-storage tree. Apparently, it held extra food for the people of Aratay in case of emergency, as well as for the palace. Daleina had insisted on canceling all feasts until the harvest crisis was over, so, dressed in kitchen aprons, Arin, Ven, and Naelin had helped shift sacks from the palace to storage. From there, they’d lurked in the shadows until the guard shift changed, and left the palace grounds when no one was watching.
Ven had grumbled about that for a while—it shouldn’t have been possible to slip out.
Arin had pointed out that the guards were supposed to keep people from slipping in, so technically they weren’t failing in their jobs by letting the three of them out.
He’d just grunted.
“Keep your head down and shuffle your feet more,” Ven advised her now. “You’re bouncing too much. General idea is not to draw attention.”
“Sorry.” Arin tried to shuffle more as she followed Ven and Queen Naelin across a few sparsely populated bridges until they reached the capital library.
The Great Library of Mittriel was a sight that Arin had meant to see while she was in the capital, but somehow between the invasion and all the potion making, she hadn’t had time. According to legend, it had been grown a century ago from a solitary redwood by a queen with a flair for the dramatic. She had coaxed the spirits into twisting the trunk so that it formed a spiral like a conch shell. “Whoa,” Arin breathed as it came into view.
Brilliant orange, the leaves of the Great Library blazed as if they were on fire. They crowned a tree of deep russet red that curved in a vast spiral. It was so grand that Arin thought there should be trumpets playing and canopy singers singing above it. Beside her, Queen Naelin murmured, “Erian and Llor would have loved this.”
“Maybe you can bring them to see it, once we get them back,” Arin said, and was rewarded with a startled almost-smile from Queen Naelin.
“You brought me here on purpose,” the queen said to Ven.
He pointed toward the highest branches. “There’s a wire path—”
“This is a place of hope. Like the library I made in Redleaf.” Queen Naelin waved her hand at the glorious tree, with its entrance draped in elegant vines. “You want me to have hope.”
Champion Ven met her eyes, and Arin had the sense that a thousand unspoken words were passing between them before Ven said one single word: “Yes.”
Ven led the way into the library, and Arin continued to gawk as she climbed the wide staircase. Shelves had been carved into, or grown out of, the curved walls, with vines cradling the books, and decorated with wooden sculptures of birds and deer and bears and foxes. The books themselves were works of art too, with spines of carved wood or intricately decorated leather. All of it was lit by sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows so that reds and blues danced across all of the surf
aces. There were no candles, just the slivers of colored sunlight and the soft glow of firemoss to chase away the shadows. As they climbed higher, more light streamed through the stained glass until Arin felt as if they were swimming in jewels.
Hand in hand, the queen and champion climbed higher through the library while Arin followed behind them, feeling as if she’d been entangled in an old ballad, a classic one with lots of adventure between queens and spirits. The sight of all the beautiful books only added to that feeling. She reached out and ran her fingertips over the spines. She wondered who would be adding Naelin and Daleina’s stories.
She wondered if any would mention her.
Queen Naelin was right—this is a place of hope. And dreams.
At the top of the spiral, as promised, was a wire path. It was tucked into a bower of roses and flowering vines with cushioned chairs, ideal for curling up with books, with a view of the forest canopy and the glorious blue sky. Ven stopped, and Arin saw he was looking at Naelin, not at the view. The queen faced north.
“We’ll bring them home,” Ven promised.
“I can’t help feeling, despite Ambassador Hanna’s reassurances, that it’s still a trap.”
“Of course it’s a trap.” Ven shrugged. “We’ll still bring them home.” He turned to Arin and held out a harness. To her surprise, he was smiling—it was the kind of smile that Daleina used to give her, right before dumping a bucket of cold water on her head because Mama said to give her a bath. “Have you ever ridden the wire paths?” he asked her.
“No.” She took the harness and puzzled at the clips.
He helped her attach it. “Listen to my commands so you don’t crash into a tree.”
Her heart was thumping fast. She’d been wanting to try this ever since Daleina had first told her about riding the wire paths, but now that she was here, her stomach was flopping back and forth like a fish on a riverbank. “What if I get sick?”
“Aim downwind” was his advice.
“Very helpful,” she grumbled as she stepped up onto a bench. “How do I—”
He gave her a push.
Arin shrieked as she plummeted off the top of the tree, then an instant later, the harness caught her and she was sailing through the canopy, skimming over leaves and between branches, and her shriek turned into a laugh.
This is amazing!
They switched wire paths twice on their way out of Mittriel and didn’t stop until they’d reached the village of Threefork, Arin’s home. It was near sundown. Birds called to one another as they settled into their nests for the night, and the branches rustled with squirrels and chipmunks hurrying home.
Looking down at Threefork, Arin felt a little like one of the chipmunks.
Like nearly all the other villages in Aratay, Threefork was nestled in the arms of trees so massive you couldn’t see them in one glance. Shops and businesses were clustered on platforms around the fattest tree, with bridges connecting all the houses that either budded from or were built onto the various branches. Firemoss lanterns were strung everywhere to light the village at night, and colorful scarves were strung along the bridges to brighten the village during the day. It wasn’t unique or special. But it’s home, Arin thought.
After they’d unhooked from the wires and climbed the ladder down to midforest, Arin led the way. Ven was a step behind her, alert as if they walked through a pack of wolves, and Queen Naelin walked beside him, her hood drawn up around her face.
“Put your hood back, Your Majesty,” Arin whispered. “If you look like you’re hiding, you’ll make people even more curious.”
Queen Naelin obeyed but didn’t speak.
Smiling and waving at her old neighbors, Arin greeted people as they passed. Leaning out their windows, many waved back. Others hurried to join her on the platforms. Everyone seemed to have a question for her: What was the palace like? How was dear Daleina doing as queen? How wondrous that Ingara and Eaden’s girl should be queen! Had Arin met the second queen? What’s she like? Did Arin have fancy dresses now? Had she been to any banquets? Were there festivals every night? Did she see fighting during the invasion? Did she kill any spirits? Had she seen anyone die? Had it been as bad as people said? What were the queens going to do about the harvest? The winter stores weren’t what they should be . . .
Arin answered everything as best she could, except the death questions, as her friends clustered around her. She introduced Champion Ven, whom they were all in awe of, and she introduced Queen Naelin as “Caretaker Neena,” a name they all immediately accepted. No one in Threefork knew what the second queen looked like, though many of them had an opinion about her. Most popular was: “I heard she went stark raving mad when spirits killed her kids, and she tried to destroy the whole country!”
“It wasn’t exactly like that,” Arin told them.
“Then what was it like?” It was Eira, Josei’s sister and Arin’s friend. Squealing, Arin hugged her friend, and Eira squeezed her back. Eira beamed at her, dimples deepening in both her cheeks. She then looped her arm through Arin’s as they walked. “You must tell me everything. You’ve been in the palace so long! Everyone thought you weren’t coming back.”
“Of course I was coming back! I only went to make sure Daleina was all right.” That’s true, Arin thought. Everything else . . . Well, it had just sort of happened. She hadn’t planned any of it. Except I chose to learn potions. And I chose this trip.
Eira yipped like an excited puppy. “So you’re back to stay? I knew it! Oh, Arin, I have the best news to tell you! But your parents should be the ones to tell you. They arranged everything. They’re going to be so excited to see you! I think they were afraid you were never coming home again.”
Arin winced. She avoided looking at either Naelin or Ven. She hoped they wouldn’t be the ones to break the news that she wasn’t here to stay.
But Eira didn’t seem to notice Arin’s discomfort. Forging ahead and dragging Arin with her, Eira parted the crowd. “Let the girl through! She’s been traveling! You can gossip later.”
Arin thought it was funny that Eira, who was younger and shorter, was able to part the crowd, whereas the Queen’s Champion and an actual queen had been stuck in the swarm of curious townspeople, but it did work. Everyone scooted back, and Arin, Ven, and Naelin were able to cross the platform that was the town square and onto the bridge that led to Arin’s house.
Home!
She’d been so busy with Master Garnah that she’d barely paused to picture it, and now home was right in front of her, nestled in the tree branches. It was a green cottage with orange-brown tiles, draped in flowers and stuffed with charms. Exactly like it had been when she left it.
Ven nudged her forward. “Enjoy your homecoming,” he murmured in her ear. “You earned this.”
Giving Eira one more hug and waving at everyone else, Arin held on to the straps of her pack and ran toward home. “Mama! Daddy!”
The door flew open. “My baby!”
“Mama!” Arin plowed into her and threw her arms around her mother.
Laughing, Mama hugged her back just as hard. “You’re here! It’s really you! Daleina sent word, but I didn’t think you’d be here so quickly. Come in, come in.” She bustled them inside.
Wait, Arin wanted to say. How did Daleina know to send word? I snuck away—
But then she saw Daddy standing by the sink, a dish in one hand and a cloth in the other, and all thoughts left her mind. He beamed at her, and Arin ran into his arms. “I missed you so much!” Arin cried.
Behind her, Mama was saying, “Champion Ven, welcome again to our home.” She heard him murmur thanks and introduce Caretaker Neena. Her mother greeted her warmly, inquiring about her journey, offering their hospitality.
Patting Arin’s hair, Daddy said, “Sweet pea, you have no idea how happy we are to see you. The house has felt so empty without you!”
Quickly and loudly, Arin said, “We can’t stay long. We’re on a trip to introduce Caretaker Neena to Ven’s fa
mily. She’s his chosen love.”
Ven did not react to this lie. He merely creased his lips into a smile within his beard. “My mother and sister live near the northern border. Your home is on the way.” For all Arin knew, that was true. She’d never thought about Ven having a family, though of course he must. He hadn’t sprung out of a tree in full leather armor, with a quiver on his back and sword at his side—even if that’s what some of the songs said. She tried to picture him as a child and failed.
Mama turned to Naelin and said, “We’re delighted to meet the one who has captured the heart of the Queen’s Champion. He’s grumpy sometimes, but he’s a good one.”
“He is,” Naelin agreed.
And Arin could have sworn she saw Champion Ven actually blush.
Mama shooed them all inside, bustling around them and offering them chairs and rockers and telling them to make themselves at home. Arin dropped her pack, and Ven stacked all their supplies in a corner.
Soon, Mama and Daddy were piling the table with food—the nut bread that Arin always loved, the leaf-wrapped spiced boar meat, and the little triangles of berries in puff pastry that melted in your mouth.
Dinner’s ready—they must have known we were coming, Arin thought, once more unsure what that meant. More proof that Daleina knew and told them. Does this mean she approves of my going? But she’d said no . . . And if Daleina knew, did that mean her parents knew? But they hadn’t recognized Queen Naelin . . .
Mama interrupted Arin’s thoughts. “Arin, could you get the plates, please?”
Arin jumped up to carry plates to the table. She poured berry juice for everyone. Ven tried to help with getting utensils, and Naelin began folding napkins, until Mama shooed the two of them back into their seats, saying they were guests.
In minutes, everything was ready.
Standing at the head of the table, Mama sliced the nut bread. Using the knife as a server, she laid a piece on each plate as she said in her storytelling voice, “In the beginning, there was only light and darkness, and we were alone, floating in the light and dark for uncounted time, until at last a child was born, a baby girl. It was the first birth.”
The Queen of Sorrow Page 17