For one terrible moment, Naelin thought they’d fight.
But then Bayn bowed his head. Dropping to the cave floor, he rolled and exposed his throat. “Thank you, my friend,” Ven said. He sheathed his sword, and Naelin followed him with the children past the wolf.
Once they were past, Bayn got to his feet and let out a mournful howl.
With a cry, Llor broke from of Naelin’s grip and ran back to Bayn. “Llor, no!” Naelin cried. She grabbed for him, but he was too quick.
Launching himself forward, Llor threw his arms around Bayn’s neck. “Come with us! Please! We love you! You’re our friend!”
The wolf lowered his head, cheek pressing against the boy’s cheek. Naelin surged forward and then stopped—the spirits, her spirits, were howling in her head. She grabbed on to Ven’s arm as their pain shot through her and her knees buckled under her.
“Mama!” she heard Erian, distant.
Her vision swam, and instead she saw through a hundred eyes as the untamed spirits tore into her spirits. “Ven, they’re attacking!”
She felt him twist from her, his sword raised, looking toward the sky.
“They’re attacking my spirits!” And she threw her mind into theirs, strengthening them, fighting with them as thousands of untamed spirits converged, united by a single thought so loud that she could feel it reverberating across the untamed lands:
Destroy!
Chapter 31
Daleina listened to the spirits’ story, of the Great Mother who died and, with her, the intended destiny of spirits, humans, and the world. She saw it all unfold around her as the spirits flooded her mind with images and their sorrow and anger at the loss that had happened so very long ago. When the spirits withdrew, she was left gasping, her cheeks wet with tears, and her throat raw, though she hadn’t felt as if she’d been screaming.
“Intense, isn’t it?” Merecot hadn’t moved from her chair across the dinner table in the center of Daleina’s outer chamber.
Gripping the arms of her chair, Daleina forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly until the room around her quit wobbling. “How many queens do you think have heard that?
Merecot shrugged. “How many queens do you think would ask? Or listen?”
She was right. Certainly Daleina had never asked them before.
In a quiet voice, with a hint of awe, Merecot said, “The spirits are the ‘builders’ of the world, and their work was interrupted before anyone could say, ‘You’re done.’ Someone needs to tell them ‘You’re done,’ and then all of this will stop. The killing. The hatred. The anger. The fear.”
Standing, she crossed to the window and looked at the twinkle of lights cradled in the branches of the trees of Mittriel. She tried to imagine what life would be like if people didn’t have to fear the spirits. She thought again of Greytree and her childhood friends, of her classmates who had died in the grove, of Queen Fara, and of Naelin, who’d never wanted to be queen. “You believe you’re strong enough?”
“I am the strongest queen who has ever lived.” Matter-of-fact.
“Naelin’s strong too,” Daleina pointed out. “Why couldn’t she have done this? Or any of the queens who came before? Fara was strong. Countless others have been strong. And yet no one has ever succeeded in stopping the spirits altogether.”
“We’ve always been separated into different countries. Just weak enough that we’d never think to try this. But if I controlled both Semo and Aratay . . . I can do this, Daleina. I know I can. It’s what I was meant to do!”
I believe her, Daleina thought.
She couldn’t pass up this chance to save the world. It would be the culmination of everything she and every queen before her had ever strived for, the fulfillment of every dream of peace. It was more than she’d dared hoped to ever achieve.
Daleina looked out again at her capital city, full of men, women, and children with hopes, fears, and dreams. Given this chance . . . how can I refuse to even try, for their sakes?
But she’d need to be certain her people would be safe, if she and Merecot failed. She’d need to ensure the champions and their candidates were prepared to protect Aratay, and she’d need a way to wrest power back from Merecot, if it proved necessary. She’d talk to the Council of Champions about the first. And she’d talk to Garnah about the second. “I will speak with the champions at dawn.”
Merecot rose too. “Daleina . . .”
“Finish your meal and sleep well.”
“And tomorrow? Will you help me change the world?”
Daleina hesitated, wondering if she should say the truth: Yes, she would help her, but if Merecot failed, if anything went wrong, if the people of Aratay were put in any danger . . . I’ll have to do what Merecot said she would do to me.
I’ll have to kill her.
But Daleina didn’t say that. Instead, she smiled and said, “Yes, Merecot. I will.”
Merecot abandoned any pretense of eating and instead paced back and forth, across Daleina’s chamber, out onto the balcony, back inside. She felt the spirits far in the distance, like an itch in her head, but she didn’t try to draw them back. It was too sensitive a time.
She believes me, Merecot thought.
And then: She believes in me.
It was extraordinary.
And to think I tried to have her killed.
She’d never regretted anything so badly in her life. Actually, she didn’t think she’d regretted anything in her life, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d underestimated Daleina—or at least she thought she did. It all depended on whether Daleina went through with it and actually abdicated in favor of Merecot. She could still chicken out. I might still need to kill her.
And now that thought made her sick.
Her hands felt sweaty, and she wiped her palms on the skirt of her gown as she paced. If she’d had her spirits, she would have called them to listen in on the council with the champions. They weren’t going to like this. Not one bit. If they talked Daleina out of it . . .
“You’ll still have to kill her, if things go sour,” the poisoner woman—Poison-Master Garnah—said, coming into the room. It was as if she knew Merecot’s thoughts, and that made the queen angry. If Garnah noticed, she didn’t let on, instead continuing, “Or try to. We won’t let you, of course. It will be a whole messy thing with plenty of collateral damage, but that doesn’t concern you, does it?”
“For a spy, you aren’t very stealthy,” Merecot observed. “This is the second conversation we’ve had. Isn’t that breaking spy protocol?” Daleina must have spoken to her when she left. She wished she’d thought to eavesdrop.
“I’m a terrible spy,” Garnah agreed, “but a formidable enemy. You don’t want me for yours.”
“I’m not already?” Merecot studied the other woman, careful to keep a distance between them and at least one bulky item of furniture. She didn’t come as far as she had by being careless, and now would be a terrible time to drop her guard, when she was on the verge of achieving everything she ever wanted.
“Of course not! I think you’re delightful.” Garnah beamed at her. “I just want to make sure we’re clear: I will be accompanying you into the grove, with Queen Daleina’s blessing. Don’t tell me it’s not done. I excel at things that aren’t done, as do you. Besides, the spirits of Aratay are used to crowds of heirs in their grove—they won’t mind one silly old woman.”
“You’re no match for angry spirits,” Merecot said.
Garnah’s smile widened until she was baring all her teeth. “Hah! We’ll see tomorrow, won’t we?”
Daleina saw three possible outcomes:
One was success. She didn’t need to plan for that.
Another was betrayal. She’d spoken with Garnah after leaving Merecot—the Queen’s Poisoner would accompany them into the grove, bringing her various potions. At the first sign of deceit, she’d use them on Merecot.
And third was failure. The spirits could kill both queens, leaving Arat
ay queen-less at a time when the country lacked heirs.
Striding through the palace, Daleina asked Belsowik to summon the champions to the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions at dawn. She then shut herself in her chambers and began composing letters.
First, she wrote to the headmistresses of every academy in Aratay, advising them to instruct their teachers and students to be prepared to issue the “choose” command at midday, should the worst-case scenario occur. Then she wrote to Hanna, laying bare Merecot’s plan and requesting that Hanna select one of the Semoian heirs—if she and Merecot both died, then the headmistresses and their students could suspend the spirits with the “choose” command until Hanna arrived with an heir. She sent the message with her fastest spirit, directly to the mountain castle.
It would be the champions’ job to prevent casualties until the command took effect. If all girls and women with power are standing ready . . . and if the champions are prepared . . . then it shouldn’t be like it was when Queen Fara died. Her death took Aratay by surprise. I won’t let that happen again.
At the first light of dawn, she climbed the stairs to the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions. She hadn’t slept, of course. Instead she’d spent the night replaying the spirits’ story in her mind, and trying to think of anything else to prepare. Now she felt calm.
Stiff back and folded hands, she sat motionless on the white wood throne to wait for her champions. The air was still, and the autumn leaves looked gilded against the arches. They’re not going to like this, she thought, but they had to be warned. If things went badly . . . I need them ready to defend Aratay.
Last time a queen died, there was chaos, and many innocents died. With an abdication, it should be a smooth transfer of power. But I’m not preparing for best case; I’m preparing for worst.
The champions filed in and took their seats.
Too many chairs were empty. She let her eyes linger on them, and she thought of Champion Ambir, Champion Piriandra . . . Her eyes landed on Champion Ven’s chair. For all she knew, he was dead now as well, killed as soon as he entered the untamed lands. It was too much to hope for that he and Queen Naelin had survived.
I’m alone, she thought.
Except that even as she thought this, she knew she wasn’t. She had Hamon, and her beloved seneschal, Belsowik, was as devoted as always. Even the champions were now on her side. Since she’d repelled the invasion, there had been no more talk about her being unsuited to rule. She was now their beloved queen.
Daleina drummed her fingers on the armrest of her throne and then stopped herself. She wanted to appear calm and in control, not like the nervous mess she felt inside. We’ll see how “beloved” I am after this. Raising her voice, she said, “Welcome, my champions. I will ask you to hear me out before you begin your objections. I also ask you to recognize that I am aware there is significant risk. But the reward to us, to all of Renthia, is, I believe, worth the risk. I hope you will agree with me.”
Straightening in their seats, the champions listened.
And then, of course, they objected.
But at last the talk shifted: if she was to attempt this, how could they best protect the people? Their candidates would be ready to issue the “choose” command, in concert with all the girls and women in the academies, and the champions would be prepared to lead Aratay’s soldiers to defend the people until that command took effect. Daleina would also send the spirits to the least populated areas of Aratay in advance, to buy them all extra time.
By midday, they had a plan for how to disperse the spirits and how to deploy the champions, guards, and soldiers that Daleina was happy with.
Or not precisely “happy” with. If we need this plan . . . I’ll be dead.
Daleina did not dress for death. She knew the odds of her surviving abdication and knew that her survival would depend on how well Merecot controlled the spirits and how much she cared about protecting her old friend. Given their history . . . Daleina knew she couldn’t depend on her. Still, she dressed as a queen prepared for a ceremony, with layers of silk that fluttered behind her like wings and a silver crown shaped like tiny flowers.
While she prepared, she felt Hamon watching her. He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it, which surprised her. Nor had he said anything at all. He’d only watched her, as if he were trying to memorize her every move. It was hard to stay optimistic when he was looking at her like that. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“I’m not saying goodbye,” he said.
“Good. Because this isn’t goodbye.”
“It’s not,” he agreed. “I’m coming with you.”
Sweet but impractical. “You aren’t. This is between Merecot and me.”
“And all of Aratay,” Hamon said. “But all of Aratay can’t fit into the grove, so you’ll need to be content with me and my mother.”
“You know I asked your mother to come?”
“She told me.”
“And you aren’t going to try to talk me out of it?”
“She can defend you. And I can heal you, if need be. I’d insist on all the champions too, but you already sent them out across Aratay.” He said this as if it were a gross miscalculation, rather than a thoroughly discussed decision.
“The people need to be defended, in case anything goes wrong,” Daleina said. “I’ve deployed all the champions, as well as the city guards, to protect the innocent.”
“You need to be defended, in case anything goes wrong.” He was standing, and she’d never seen such a fierce look in his eyes. “Let me help. Please, Daleina.”
She thought for a moment about ordering him to stay behind. She could do it. She may have sent the spirits deep into the forest, as far from the bulk of the population of Aratay as possible, but she still had command of all the palace guards.
But did she really want to?
No, I don’t.
“All right,” Daleina said.
Hamon blinked. “Did you just agree? I’d prepared a list of points as to why including me makes sense.”
Daleina held up her hand. “I don’t need to hear it. But I do want to know, outside of your worries for me, if you think this is a mistake. Do you think Merecot’s plan will work?” Please say yes. She’d wrung agreement from all the champions, and had even received a letter, via spirit, from Ambassador Hanna, but still, she wanted to hear it from Hamon’s lips.
Hamon opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again to say slowly, “It sounds possible. But no one has ever tried before. At least, not that I know of.”
“Which is something I keep wondering: Why hasn’t anyone ever tried this? Spirits have plagued Renthians for generations. Surely someone at some point must have had this idea,” Daleina said. “Has there never been a queen like Merecot before?” She’d heard of plenty of powerful queens in the history books and songs, and she’d felt the incredible reach of Naelin’s power. She found it hard to believe there hadn’t been others equal to Merecot.
Hamon took her hands and raised them to her lips. “Of course there have been powerful queens before, happy to seize whatever power they could in the name of protecting their people.”
He means Fara, Daleina thought.
“But as I understand it, for this to work it requires more than one powerful queen. It requires two: one to take power and one to give it. If this is to succeed, it won’t be because there’s never been another queen like Merecot. It will be because there’s never been a queen like you.”
Chapter 32
Daleina hadn’t been back to the Queen’s Grove since the day she was crowned and buried her friends. She hadn’t wanted to ever see the place again. Every step into the grove came with another memory, and when she saw that even in autumn, the ground was still blanketed in green with white flowers, the tiny blossoms looking like freshly fallen snowflakes, she wanted to turn and run.
But Daleina didn’t run away. She never did.
She walked to the center of the grove, between the graves
, and faced Merecot.
“I used to dream of being crowned here.” Smiling, Merecot held out her hands toward Daleina, waiting for her to take them. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Tell me this isn’t just ambition,” Daleina said, not moving.
“Ambition isn’t bad when you’re trying to change the world.”
Hamon spoke up. “You need to keep Daleina from being killed. You know what the spirits will do the second she abdicates.” He’d dressed in healer’s robes, and Daleina had watched him cram his bag full of every medicine he had. Garnah carried no bag, but her skirts were full of pockets with powders and potions. Several pouches hung from her belt.
Merecot waved her hand. “You forget—I’ve done this before. With Queen Naelin. And I kept Queen Jastra alive for years, didn’t I? Even though thousands of spirits despised her?”
Garnah snorted. “At least until you had her killed.”
“Yes. Until then.”
If Daleina hadn’t been watching her face so closely, she might not have seen it: a shadow of a frown that looked like regret. She has emotions, Daleina thought. She hides them, but she’s not like Garnah. She’s capable of guilt, regret, mercy, love. “I trust you,” Daleina said.
“And I’m showing my trust in you, by allowing your people here with us,” Merecot said.
Hamon began to object, but Daleina cut him off. “You don’t ‘allow’ me anything. I am queen here, at least for a few minutes more. And this is my choice.” She said it as much for her companions’ benefit as for Merecot’s. “All right, Merecot, my friend. Let’s save the world.”
Closing her eyes, Daleina reached out with her mind and felt the threads that linked her with the spirits of Aratay. She held them gently for a while, feeling the swirling emotions and desires of the spirits, the way they loved the earth and the sky, letting that connection flow through her until she felt as if she were Aratay, within the soil and the wind.
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