Garnah joined her on the balcony. “I admit, I am looking forward to meeting her.”
“Wait within,” Daleina ordered. “I greet her alone.”
A massive golden eagle with a human face burst through the branches. It shook the trees, and red leaves swirled in its wake, falling in spirals. Daleina heard Garnah retreat behind her, for once not making any witty comment or arguing. With her eyes glued on the eagle spirit, she kept her mind open to the spirits of Aratay. She wouldn’t put it past Merecot to try to seize control of them, or attack them, or . . .
I don’t know what to expect from Merecot, which is the problem.
So she waited.
She’s still weak, Merecot thought as she flew toward the palace, flanked by the spirits of Aratay. She could sense the spirits’ curiosity mixed with hostility, and she knew Daleina was prodding and coaxing them to follow her. Even with the power of a queen, though, Daleina didn’t have the kind of control Merecot did. Merecot owned the will of the spirit she rode. If she’d brought her invading army of spirits with her, she could have easily overwhelmed Daleina’s spirits, assuming she didn’t have another irritatingly powerful heir like Naelin up her sleeves.
Merecot circled the palace, looking down on the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions and the Queen’s Tower. This should have been my palace. She’d been born in Aratay and always expected she’d be queen of her homeland. As a child, she’d spent hours imagining herself living in the white trees of the palace, climbing the famous stairs to the Council of Champions, holding the fate of the forests in her hands . . . She remembered playacting with Alet, quietly so their parents wouldn’t hear—both sisters dreaming of a life different from the one they had at home.
In their games, they’d always been the heroes.
And they’d always won.
I’ll win for you, Alet. She was so close now. Just one more hurdle.
Clearly anxious, the spirits of Aratay circled with her, and Merecot wondered if she sensed their own nervousness or Daleina’s.
It has to be one of those, though, because I’m not afraid, Merecot told herself. And I’ll prove it.
As the eagle soared high above the queen of Aratay, Merecot leapt from its back. If you mean peace, Daleina, catch me. If not . . . If not, Merecot could recall her spirit to catch her before she splatted un-royally on the ground or impaled herself on a spire.
This is your test, Daleina. Are we going to fight, or talk?
Wind roared in her ears.
Catch me!
An ermine-like spirit with bat wings caught her and then dumped her onto the balcony. Merecot sprang to her feet as if her entrance had been just as graceful and dramatic as she’d planned. The problem was, she wasn’t certain whether it was her command or Daleina’s that had sent the spirit. Smoothing her skirt, she wished she hadn’t panicked right there at the end. She hoped Daleina hadn’t noticed. Calmly, with as much dignity as she could muster, Merecot said, “You invited me, and I have come.”
“Welcome to Aratay,” Daleina said.
Daleina, somewhat to Merecot’s surprise, looked queenly. She was dressed in a silver gown that pooled around her feet like melted moonlight. Her red, brown, and gold streaked hair was loose, and she wore a circlet of woven ivy. Nice effect, Merecot thought. “Royalty becomes you.”
“Thank you,” Daleina said. “You look well also.”
Okay, so we’re going to be stiff and formal. Too bad I don’t do stiff and formal. “It’s the lack of sleep and the constant stress. Really does wonders on the complexion.”
Daleina didn’t crack a smile. “I hadn’t heard that.”
Both queens stared at each other. “So . . . Ambassador Hanna was worried I’d think this was a trap. Is it?” Merecot asked in a falsely bright voice. “Did you invite me here to kill me?”
No change in expression. “I did not.”
She was certain Daleina didn’t have it in her, but if she did . . . Let me see if I can prod her into revealing anything. “Last time I saw you, you’d had my sister killed. It’s logical to assume I’m next.”
“I think you misremember your history. Your sister was my dear friend,” Daleina said, “and she died in an assassination attempt that you ordered. But is this truly what you wish to discuss? It’s certainly not why I called you here.”
“Invited me,” Merecot corrected.
Daleina inclined her head. “Invited.”
“I’ll bite,” Merecot said. “Why am I here?” She braced herself for a litany of demands. They’d need to negotiate a peace treaty, and Daleina would surely expect to have the upper hand, given that she’d sacrificed her co-queen to aid Semo. It was possible she’d want to reexamine the border between their countries, or set laws in place that would ensure the protection of those borders. Frankly, Merecot didn’t care if—
“I wanted to see if we’re still friends,” Daleina said.
Merecot stared.
She blinked.
She cleaned out one ear.
Then the other, deliberately and sarcastically slowly.
“Really?” Merecot asked.
If her theatrics affected the other queen, Daleina didn’t show it. She just nodded and held out her hand, infuriatingly serene. “Truly. We were friends once, remember? I want to be friends again, somehow, if we can rebuild whatever trust and affection we once had—”
“I can’t decide if you’re naïve or stupid.”
Daleina’s hand didn’t waver, and she was looking at Merecot as intently as Merecot looked at a spirit she wanted to subdue, as if her eyes could bore directly into her brain. “Maybe both. But either way, for the sake of both of our people, I want your friendship back.”
By the spirits, I think she’s serious. That was . . . unexpected. “So I take your hand, and then what? We swap stories late in the night? Sneak into the palace kitchen for a snack? Giggle? Because I don’t giggle.”
“We secure the safety of both of our peoples.” Hand still out. Eyes still earnest. Still ignoring Merecot’s attempts at humor.
“You’re absurd,” Merecot said.
“Perhaps. But I was once your friend,” Daleina said. “I want to be again.”
Merecot stepped backward, and her back bumped into the rail of the balcony. There had to be a trick here, some kind of ploy to get Merecot to lower her guard. Merecot wasn’t naïve enough to believe Daleina meant it. Queens didn’t have friendships, least of all with each other. And who talked like this anyway? You didn’t ask someone “be my friend” unless you were six years old. You became friends in a natural progression that didn’t involve grandiose statements on a palace balcony. “That’s . . . nice?”
“Merecot.”
“Daleina?”
Daleina lowered her hand.
“You’re withdrawing the offer of friendship?” Merecot asked.
“I’m resting my arm,” Daleina said. She lifted her hand again, held it out toward Merecot, and waited, a completely placid expression on her face as if she intended to keep this up as long as it took. Maybe she did. Daleina was known to have a stubborn streak.
“I tried to kill you,” Merecot said, trying to shock Daleina out of this exasperating serenity. She didn’t mention she’d come with that purpose again.
“All friendships have bumps.”
Still the hand. Still the stare. It was beginning to get more than a little unsettling. Merecot didn’t like feeling that she wasn’t in control of the conversation.
“I also invaded your country,” Merecot pointed out.
“I am prepared to forgive you.”
“Aha, so you haven’t forgiven me yet! You don’t really trust me. If I said, ‘Yes, let’s be buddies right now,’ you’d have me spied on. You’d wait until I lowered my guard, and then you’d . . . do whatever you plan to do. What do you plan to do, Daleina?” She hadn’t intended to ask her right out, but this conversation wasn’t going the way she’d expected it to anyway. Besides, she preferred being direct.
She just didn’t expect Daleina to be so . . . she couldn’t even come up with a word to describe how Aratay’s queen was acting.
“I plan to protect my people,” Daleina said, “until the day I die, at what will hopefully be a very old age. And I plan to live in peace with my neighbors, from this day forward. We share a common enemy, Merecot. We don’t have to be enemies with each other.”
Merecot felt a twinge of something. Hope, she thought. Or indigestion.
“That common enemy is exactly why I did all I did,” Merecot said. “I want a better life for all Renthians.” She studied Daleina’s hand once more. Over and over in her head, she could hear Jastra’s voice saying, It’s a trick! Except Daleina had never been tricky. Stubborn, yes. Naïve, yes. Weak, yes. But not sneaky. Despite being the bottom of the class with spirits, Daleina never cheated. She just worked harder. That could be what she’s doing now. Working harder, to become my friend again, for the sake of her people. It was kind of admirable. She must hate me, deep inside. I’d hate me. “What exactly does a friendship between two queens entail? I suppose you’ll want me to swear to never attempt to murder you again.”
“I want you to swear to talk first, before you try to kill me,” Daleina said.
“So you’re not ruling out the killing part if it’s necessary?” Not that Merecot wanted to kill Daleina. In fact, standing with her now, she couldn’t quite believe what she’d almost done and what she’d come here to do. Daleina seemed so alive. So . . . Oh, spirits, do I actually admire her? Weak, untalented, overtrusting, naïve, idealistic Daleina?
She heard a muffled snort from inside the chambers, almost a laugh.
“You have someone spying on us? Right now, when you’re asking me for a leap of faith? Bit cynical of you, isn’t it?” So much for trust and friendship. Merecot plunged her mind into the palace, searching for a spirit in order to look through its eyes, but there were no spirits within.
“Of course,” Daleina said. “I’m hopeful, not stupid.” Her hand still was held out.
“Then you have changed.” Merecot paused. “I didn’t actually mean that. It was just such a good setup for the insult, I couldn’t resist.”
“I understand,” Daleina said gravely, but Merecot thought she saw a flicker of an almost-smile. She wished she could see what Daleina was thinking.
If I could penetrate the minds of the spirits who were linked to her . . . Quickly, in the pause in the conversation, Merecot slammed her mind into the thoughts of the spirits that hovered around the palace. She’d never tried to “read” anyone’s mind this way, but the theory was sound. She could see the memories of spirits, so if they held the memory of Daleina’s thoughts and plans . . . Sifting through the spirits’ minds, she found . . .
Nothing.
They knew nothing.
Daleina didn’t share her thoughts with them. She was linked to them, yes, but it was a softer link than either Merecot or Naelin had. Clever, Merecot thought. Daleina must keep herself shielded from them. Or else she isn’t strong enough to forge a more in-depth connection. Either way, it meant Merecot couldn’t access any memories the spirits had of her thoughts. Once more, she was at a disadvantage . . . and that bothered her a great deal.
“Say I say yes, I want to be friends again. What happens next?”
“You’ll be offered the hospitality of the palace, shown to a room, led to the baths, and invited to dine with me here in my rooms. Then we talk.”
Merecot held up one finger. “I already stated no giggling.”
“There will be no giggling,” Daleina agreed.
I came all this way. May as well see where this goes. I can always kill her later, Merecot thought. She was closer to the grove than she’d ever been. She could kill Daleina, race to the Aratayian grove, and seize the crown. Right now, with whatever army of spies was listening, Merecot knew she’d be foolish to try. Queen Jastra would have told her to do it anyway—use her strength and control of the spirits, use Daleina’s hopefulness against her to surprise her. But I’m not Jastra, and I have other cards to play. “You haven’t asked me about Ambassador Hanna or Champion Havtru. I gathered you’ve noticed I returned without them.”
“You won’t harm them,” Daleina said, certainty in her voice.
“Oh? You’re sure of that?”
“You won’t need to,” Daleina said. “I’ve invited you here in peace.”
Again, the naïveté amused her, but at the same time, it irked her. Because there was no way Daleina didn’t know its effect on her. She’s . . . toying with me. Yet it still wasn’t quite clear how. I should be the one controlling the conversation. I’m supposed to be outsmarting her!
Merecot tried hard to keep her expression as bland as possible. I underestimated her. She knows I left them behind as hostages. Daleina kept surprising her. This may be a more interesting visit than I thought. I wonder . . . if she’d listen. She’d come here planning to take the crown by force, but if she could convince Daleina to abdicate willingly instead . . . ?
Was it possible? Was Daleina smart enough, wise enough, queen enough, to understand why Merecot had to be queen of both Semo and Aratay? She’d never planned to explain herself, but if there was a chance that Daleina would listen and believe . . .
I could try.
For a moment, she felt breathless, nearly light-headed. She couldn’t put a name on the feeling that rushed through her, but she thought maybe it was hope.
“In that case, I’d be delighted to accept the hospitality of your palace.” Merecot held out her hand, and Daleina clasped it.
Daleina instructed Belsowik to escort Queen Merecot to the guest chambers, and she ordered spirits to prepare it in advance, stealing finery from other rooms of the palace to drape Merecot’s rooms in as much splendor as possible. Judging by the number of jewels draped over Merecot, she associated finery with being queen. Might as well oblige her. She didn’t know if any queen of Aratay had ever hosted a queen of another country, voluntarily or not. Few queens were powerful enough to keep their spirits under control from a distance. We tend to stay put, and not try to invade one another. One country’s spirits are bad enough—no one wants more. Except Merecot.
After Merecot had been swept away, she located Garnah, who had wisely retreated to Daleina’s inner bedroom and hidden. Daleina made a mental note to have Hamon check the room for any stray potions or powders before she slept. “I assume you heard all that?”
“She’s absolutely charming,” Garnah said, climbing out from behind a chest and smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. She straightened the feathers in her hair. “I adore her.”
“Can I trust her?” Daleina asked.
“Yes. Decidedly yes.” She held up one finger. “Once you determine what she wants. She’s the kind who will be steadfast in her pursuit of her goal.”
“She wanted to be rid of the excess spirits in Semo,” Daleina said.
“Ah, but why?”
“Because they were tearing apart the fabric of her country.”
“Why should she care?”
“Because people were losing their homes and dying, and it’s a queen’s responsibility—”
Garnah pursed her lips and made a rude noise. “You think Merecot cares for that?”
What a ridiculous question, she thought. Every queen cares about her people! Daleina began to reconsider her idea of including Garnah in these meetings. She had very little understanding of human emotion—Hamon would have said it was because she’d never experienced it. But before Daleina replied, she forced herself to truly consider the question. She had asked for Garnah’s opinion expressly because of her lack of compassion. Is it true every queen cares? What about Queen Fara? “Merecot has wanted to be a queen for as long as I’ve known her. She believes it’s her destiny.”
Garnah pressed again. “Why?”
“Because the world needs—”
“Don’t project your own nobility onto others. It’s not a weight we want to carry.” G
arnah waved her hand in the air as if shooing away flies. “You need to discover why she wanted to be queen so badly that she left her school, her home, her family, her everything. Why she was willing to kill for a land that’s not her own. And more important, why she’s come here now, at risk to herself, even though she should have everything she wants. You need to know what she truly wants.”
She’s right, Daleina thought. Merecot doesn’t think like I do. That was why she wanted Garnah listening to these meetings in the first place. “What do you want?”
Garnah smiled. “All I want is my son’s love.”
Though rationally she knew she shouldn’t, though Hamon would have cautioned her not to, though Garnah had been a terrible mother, Daleina believed her. “Then we continue.”
Chapter 28
Daleina wished Arin were here. She’d have created miraculously extravagant confections in the kitchen that would have distracted from the awkwardness of entertaining Daleina’s would-be murderer. On the other hand, it’s better that Arin’s safe at home. I can handle a little awkwardness. After all, the entire reason Daleina was doing any of this was to keep Arin and people like her safe.
Merecot slurped her soup, then dabbed the corner of her lips with a napkin.
Daleina didn’t know how she was supposed to convince Merecot to reveal her true motivations. She could ask point-blank and hope that Merecot was in the mood to monologue. Or she could be patient and hope Merecot revealed herself on her own. As Garnah said, she’s here, so she clearly wants something. But what? Maybe if she just got Merecot talking, tried to get her to open up . . .
“Tell me about your sister,” Daleina offered.
Merecot stiffened. She laid her soup spoon down and folded her hands on her lap, white-knuckled. “You knew her. You claimed to be her friend.”
“I was her friend. And I think, for a moment, at least, she was mine. But I only know what she let me see. And I know some of it was true and some wasn’t.” Maybe Alet wasn’t the best choice of topics. She hadn’t meant to open a wound.
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