The Queen of Sorrow

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Naelin’s eyes had gone wide. Ven too looked as if he’d seen an apparition. “She went into the untamed lands and survived? Naelin, do you think Bayn . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he were afraid to finish the question.

  Hanna gawked at the two of them. She’d just revealed the fact that Queen Jastra had definitively proven (and disproven) multiple theories on the nature of queens and spirits that had been the subject of debate at the academies for years . . . and they were focusing instead on a wolf?

  “It’s possible,” Naelin said. “If a queen could go into the untamed lands and come out again alive, maybe a ‘Protector of Queens’ could too.” She laid her hand over Ven’s. “When this is over, we’ll do what we can to find him,” she promised. “We’ll search every inch of the border, and I’ll probe the mind of every spirit within a mile of it.”

  “Thank you. I—” Ven pulled back from her. “Queen Merecot.”

  All of them turned to see Merecot march through the garden. She was flanked by her armored guards, as well as three spirits. These spirits were all earth spirits, and they looked like they were pottery come to life. Shaped like dogs, their hides were hardened clay, and their eyes were hollowed-out holes. “So happy to see you’re enjoying my gardens.”

  “We’re not,” Ven said blandly. “We’re just plotting against you.”

  That caused Merecot to halt in her tracks. Hanna wished she were close enough to elbow Ven in the stomach and was happy to see Naelin do it for her. Don’t bait her, she thought at him. There was a time and a place for humor, and she was not certain Merecot possessed any of it whatsoever.

  “Can you tell us why you targeted Bayn?” Ven asked, his voice still pleasant, as if he were asking about the layout of the gardens. “You called him the Protector of Queens. What did you mean by that? What is he?”

  Hanna watched Merecot’s face with amusement—She wants to lash out, but she knows she shouldn’t. She clearly didn’t like that Hanna had brought them to the gardens, rather than allowing them to be escorted to the baths as planned, and she just as clearly didn’t like to be questioned. She’s still both insecure and arrogant. Perhaps she even regretted some of her choices. Not that she’ll ever admit it . . . and not that I’d believe her anyway.

  Merecot settled on a benign half-smile. “According to Queen Jastra, he was some kind of ‘evolved spirit,’ tasked with protecting you or Daleina or whomever bore the crown. She’s studied the nature of spirits very closely and believed he could have caused trouble. She recommended he be removed.” She waved her hand as if dismissing the entire episode as inconsequential. “This was back when I was targeting your queens, of course. Now that we’re negotiating, the situation has changed.”

  “Of course it has,” Ven murmured.

  “Removing him was just a precaution,” Merecot said. “You weren’t supposed to ever discover how he died.”

  Ven made a sound very close to a growl. “You could show some remorse.”

  “Very sorry about your pet,” Merecot said, then she frowned and held up a hand. “No, I am sorry. If he was just an ordinary wolf, he didn’t deserve his fate. But it is the fate of all of Semo that concerns me.”

  It concerned Hanna as well.

  Semo had too many spirits.

  Aratay had too many queens.

  There is another obvious answer, Hanna thought, one that isn’t Merecot’s plan of abdication . . . but I don’t know if any of the queens will like it. “Our land has its problems as well, but I believe these problems share a common solution,” Hanna said in her most definitive I-know-best headmistress voice. “You have too many spirits; we have too many queens. One of our queens must release her hold on our spirits and take control of your excess spirits. She can then bring them into Aratay under her command, and tie to them to the barren regions in our land.”

  It’s the perfect solution, Hanna thought. Poetic even. Merecot was smart—she’d see the logic in the idea, wouldn’t she? If she truly means what she says about saving her people . . .

  “I’m not giving up my power—” Merecot began.

  “You would keep Semo, with as many spirits as needed to keep the land alive, but only as many as you can handle to keep it stable. All you’d lose would be the excess spirits, and they cost you too much energy to control.” Hanna kept her voice pleasant and smooth, the voice of a reasonable teacher, even though she wanted to shake the queen and say, Listen to me, you foolish child!

  “Not practical,” Merecot dismissed the idea. “Naelin would have to relinquish control of the spirits of Aratay. I won’t have such a powerful queen lurking on my border.”

  “Fine,” Naelin said.

  Merecot blinked at her. “Excuse me? You’d really give up power that easily?”

  “I said I’d abdicate to save my children. How is this different?”

  “Yes, but . . . I didn’t think you were serious!”

  Pleased, Hanna leaned back in her chair. Given Naelin’s past performance, Hanna hadn’t expected her to be reasonable, but she was satisfied nonetheless.

  “But . . . But you can’t . . . I don’t . . . It’s not that simple,” Merecot sputtered. “At the same time as you release your spirits, I will need to relinquish power over a segment of my spirits—they’ll immediately target me. I will need assurances that you will gain control of them quickly. If you don’t . . . I can and will defend myself, but the number of deaths that could occur in the meantime could be catastrophic. I won’t have that on my conscience.”

  “What conscience?” Naelin asked, and Hanna gasped as Merecot sneered, ready to reply. But the queen of Aratay waved away her own comment. “I will take control quickly—that’s also fine.”

  It was kind of entertaining to see Merecot so surprised. She clearly hadn’t expected anyone to come up with a viable alternative—let alone one that could work

  One that will work. I’m sure of it.

  And if they did agree, then Daleina would keep her throne, Merecot would save her country, and there would be no reason for abdications, assassinations, or invasions. Keeping quiet, Hanna watched the queens and champion with amused interest.

  Ven was shaking his head. “To take control of another land’s spirits . . .”

  “Queen Merecot would have to relinquish them, and I would have to accept them,” Queen Naelin said. Her voice was neutral—Hanna couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She seemed to be in favor of the idea. Maybe she’s willing to cling to anything that will end this. She wants her children back and this ordeal over. If so, that was good enough.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Ven said. “In the moment you release your spirits before you claim Queen Merecot’s, you’d be vulnerable.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but frankly, it was a lot less of a ridiculous request than asking both queens to abdicate in favor of Merecot. And less horrific than poisoning them. “The key part is that these spirits don’t belong to any land. They’re linked to the queen only, and only barely, which should make the transfer smooth. It would have to be done in the grove, of course.”

  “But it can be done?” Naelin asked.

  “Yes,” Hanna said. And then amended: “Theoretically, at least.”

  Ven clasped Naelin’s hands in his. “It’s too great a risk—”

  “To save my children, Aratay, and Semo? I don’t think it is.” Naelin turned to Merecot. “I’ll do it.”

  Merecot opened and shut her mouth twice before finding the words she wanted to say. “You should want assurances from me as well, before you so blithely agree,” Merecot said at last. “Once you abdicate, you will be vulnerable. You’ll need to rely on me to protect you.” She still looked dazed. She’s a planner, Hanna thought, and this idea wasn’t in any of her calculations.

  Ven spoke up. “I’ll be there to protect her as well—and terminate you, if you violate the agreement.” Out of the corner of her eye, Merecot saw her guards tense. She held up a hand to calm them. Hanna wished she could do the same to Ven.
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  “You won’t be permitted into the grove,” Merecot said as if he were an idiot. He’s not, Hanna thought. Nothing like this had ever been attempted before, at least as far as she knew. He was right to worry. Just wrong to try to stop this. It’s our best chance to help everyone. “The Semoian spirits, at least the older ones, are protective of their grove and fond of their traditions,” Merecot continued. “Only the worthy can enter. The spirits, not to mention the people of Semo, would . . . object if the sacred ground were violated. Really wouldn’t be a good idea to rile them up right before we attempt such a dangerous transition.”

  Ven was shaking his head, but Queen Naelin laid her hand over his. “It’s in her interest to protect me. If this works, she’ll save her land. And that’s what she wants.”

  “Is it?” Ven asked without bothering to lower her voice. “We don’t know her true motives. She’s deceived us before.”

  Hanna winced. Couldn’t he at least try to be diplomatic? “She’s not deceiving you as to the danger to this land. And I should point out that this plan is my idea. You trust me, don’t you?” She looked first at Ven, then at Naelin, then at Merecot.

  All of them, in their own way, do trust me.

  And by trusting me, they’ll save everyone.

  Hanna couldn’t help feeling a bit smug.

  Naelin didn’t care if it was a good plan or not. She only cared that Merecot had said yes. Yes to Hanna’s solution. And yes to Naelin being reunited with her children.

  Not permanently. Not yet. Not until the transfer was complete and Naelin had released the Aratayian spirits and claimed the excess Semoian spirits.

  But it was a start.

  She felt spirits watching her: two stone giants that lurked between statues, fire spirits that smoldered on the stone rafters above, an ice spirit in the window frosting the glass. She knew that Merecot had positioned another line of earth spirits just beyond them. The air quivered with them and made Naelin’s head feel thick, but she didn’t care.

  All her attention was focused on one innocuous door, the one Erian and Llor would be coming through.

  Ven was talking to her. She didn’t hear him. Reaching out with her mind, she tried to see through the eyes of the foreign spirits, to see if they were approaching, but it was like pushing through muck.

  A hand touched her elbow lightly, and she jumped.

  “I’m here for you,” Ven said quietly. “Whatever you need. I love you.”

  That was the only thing he could have said that had the power to distract her from staring at the door. Even a hurricane would have been a mere nuisance, pushed away with an order to a few spirits. But at Ven’s words, she turned to him. “I love you too.”

  It was surprisingly easy to say. She’d expected it to be a trumpets-blaring kind of moment, but instead it simply felt right. Like putting on a warm coat on a cold day.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Ven nodded at the door. “They’re coming.”

  As if his words summoned them, the door flew open, and Erian and Llor tumbled inside. “Mama!” And Naelin was running toward them, arms outstretched. She dropped to her knees, and they barreled into her, throwing their arms around her.

  Both of them were babbling at once, and she heard only snippets: “So happy you’re here!” “Thought you wouldn’t come!” “Missed you so much!” And she was talking too: “I missed you both so very, very much.”

  She pulled back so she could see them.

  Erian, her cheeks rosy from playing outside in the courtyard, her hair braided too expertly for her to have done it herself, and a smudge of sugar in the corner of her smile from whatever pastry she ate for breakfast.

  Llor, with a smile so wide that he looked like he had chipmunk cheeks. He smelled faintly of warm cinnamon and that odor little boys seemed to acquire from a bit too long between baths.

  They were perfect.

  “I lost a tooth!” Llor declared.

  “Really? That’s excellent,” Naelin said.

  “And I didn’t even cry!”

  “He didn’t,” Erian affirmed. “He was very brave.”

  “You’ve both been amazingly brave,” Naelin told them.

  Erian squeezed her hand. “Really, you don’t know that for sure. We could have been hiding under our beds sobbing this whole time. But we haven’t been. We have been brave. We wanted you to be proud of us.”

  “Oh, my girl, I am. I so very much am.” Naelin felt as if her throat were clogged with cotton. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

  “We missed you too,” Erian said. “So much! And Father too.”

  “Where is Father?” Llor asked.

  “He’s in Mittriel,” Naelin told him. “He’ll be so happy and surprised to see you.” She half wished she’d brought him with her so he could have this moment too. But the other half was grateful she didn’t have to share it with anyone except Ven.

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw Ven had drawn back, giving her space, letting her have her moment. She had her moment, though, and she wanted him to join in it—to be part of the family he was already so much a part of. She waved him closer, and Llor squealed, seeing him.

  “Champion Ven!” Erian cried. Llor echoed her: “Ven! Ven!” And the children pulled away from Naelin and piled onto Ven, bringing him to his knees too. His face cracked into a grin, and Naelin realized it had been a while since she’d seen him smile. Her own smile mirrored his, and she tasted her tears as they slid down her cheeks and into her smiling mouth.

  Llor flopped out his arm, pulling Naelin into the embrace, all four of them jumbled together. This moment, Naelin thought. This is what joy is.

  Chapter 19

  The first spirit sent by Queen Daleina left Aratay for the eastern land of Chell. It was a tree spirit, lithe and fast, shaped like a red fox but with scales of emerald green. It ran out of Mittriel along the limbs of the trees, leaping from branch to branch, sailing through the empty spaces between the trees, until it was out of forest. It kept running, on the ground, over dried leaves that crunched under its paws and dried pine needles that stuck between its toes.

  Other spirits marked its passage, and then resumed tending their trees and rocks and streams. The humans didn’t notice it at all. To them, it was as fast as a blur, and those who saw it thought it was a quirk of the light. Just a streak of green.

  The fox spirit felt the moment that it left Aratay and ran into Chell. It hurt, as if a string were tied around its innards and pulling backward while its body plunged forward. The spirit felt yanked from within, but the queen’s order permeated all, overwhelming the instinct to stay in its own land.

  It sensed the other spirits, the ones linked to Chell, a mix of earth, fire, water, and wood, and saw before it the rolling fields and meadows. Golden stalks swayed in the wind. Trees, laden with fruit, crowded in pastures, and vegetables overflowed their fields.

  Every inch of the land felt ripe.

  The spirits of Chell worked in the fields, quietly and calmly. They didn’t acknowledge the spirit of Aratay as the little fox spirit sped through their lands, but they silently passed word of its arrival—the news flickering fast across the fields, faster than the fox itself.

  The news reached the fortress of the queen long before the spirit did, and when it did, she was ready. Exhausted, the fox flopped on the floor at the feet of the queen of Chell.

  She bent down, her bones creaking, and untied the note from around the fox’s neck. She unrolled it and read. Pursed her lips. Rolled the note back up, retied the ribbons.

  “What does it say, Your Majesty?” one of her advisers asked.

  “It’s from the queen of Aratay, offering help with the harvest,” Queen Gada lied. She would not give her adviser the excuse to send any of her heirs away. She needed them all—they were the only ones in this land she trusted.

  “Ahh, curious. What will you say in response?”

  Queen Gada smiled at the fox spirit. “I will accept.” Carrying the fox into
the Chellian Queen’s Grove, the queen of Chell plunged her mind into the mind of the little creature, broke its bond with its old master, and made it hers.

  The second spirit flew to the northeast, to the icy land of Elhim. It was a water spirit with a child’s body and dragonfly wings. It was entirely blue, translucent, and believed it was the loveliest being ever to grace Renthia. It enjoyed flying beyond the borders of Aratay, so others could appreciate its beauty. Over Chell, it danced with the other water spirits and caused rain to fall over several fields before it flew on to Elhim.

  The air was cold the instant it crossed the border, and the ground was covered in a thick sheet of ice. The spirit liked the ice—the mirror-smooth ice reflected the spirit nicely, its beautiful blue and its lovely wings.

  Deeper into Elhim, the ice changed: here were forests of ice, trees with delicate snow-leaves. And cities of ice, with sculpted towers and fortresses. The ice had been twisted into pinnacles that rose into the air then splayed out like antlers in a forest of odd shapes. In other places, it had been smoothed into vast cliffs that forced the little water spirit to fly higher and higher, up where the air was colder and colder.

  As the spirit flew closer to the palace of the queen, the ice became even more beautiful, carved into sea creatures and forest animals and nameless shapes of such delicate beauty that the water spirit began to wonder if its reflection had been lovely after all.

  The palace itself looked as if it were made from lace. Delicate ice strands were woven together in flowerlike patterns to create its walls. Following the command of the queen of Aratay, the water spirit flew unerringly toward the tallest tower, seeking out the queen of Elhim.

  As it reached the palace, two ice spirits shot out from behind a pinnacle of blue ice. The water spirit had a chance to see itself reflected in the mirror-smooth bodies of the ice spirits and think, Yes, I am lovely—right before the ice spirits plunged through its heart.