“You need to rest,” Hamon said.
Daleina shook her head. “I have to stay alert, in case it happens again.” But she did lean her head against his shoulder. “It was supposed to be better now. Easier.” They’d stopped an invasion, thwarted an assassin, and found a second powerful queen to protect their forests. They should have at least bought their country a little more time before the next disaster. Apparently not, she thought. “I am going to go down in history as the worst queen in all of Renthia.”
He kissed her forehead. “None of this is your fault.”
That much was true. “Then the unluckiest.”
“Perhaps that.” He drew back. “I know it was Queen Naelin, but may I check you anyway?” When she granted permission, he opened his healer’s bag, then checked her temperature, blood pressure, heart rate. He had her spit into a vial and tested it by adding a drop of a purple liquid—it turned white when he shook it.
“Not dying today?” she asked.
“Not today,” he said with a smile. Hamon’s smile was one of the best things in her world. It was as warm as a down blanket in winter and as comforting as an embrace. It made her feel as if she were doing everything right and that everything would turn out fine. Standing, he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. Her knees felt shaky, and she drew a few deep, steadying breaths. If Naelin broke down again anytime soon, Daleina wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to face it. She’d end up as a puddle on the floor. But I may not have any choice, she thought. Protecting Aratay was her responsibility. And it should be Naelin’s as well.
“What happened?” Hamon asked as he helped her to her throne. She sank into it gratefully, smoothed her skirts, and straightened her crown. He assisted with her hair, pinning back the loose red-and-gold strands.
“The reports from the spirits are garbled, but from what I can sense, something happened to Queen Naelin’s children, and she reacted. Badly. She drove the spirits north, over the border to Semo, forcing them to attack. But it wasn’t a controlled attack. This was wild, unplanned. It . . . it makes no sense. I don’t know why she reacted the way she did, without thought, without care for the consequences.” She shook her head. “Ven will send a message when he can—he was there,” Daleina said. “Hopefully he can help explain this.” She wasn’t sure it really mattered, though. Whatever the cause, what she had to focus on was handling the aftermath.
She’d have to reach out to Queen Merecot. Attempt to salvage some kind of diplomacy. They hadn’t yet formalized their peace treaty. This would make all of that a thousand times more difficult. Merecot would see it as a breach of trust, if not an all-out act of war. Why did Naelin do it? Daleina wondered for the umpteenth time.
Regardless, reports would be coming in soon from across Aratay about the damage. She’d need to assess the level of this crisis and then issue orders to distribute emergency care. Areas near the newly barren lands would have to be prepared to accept refugees—they’d need temporary housing, emergency food, other supplies—and then she’d have to set things in motion for permanent solutions. With winter coming, her people would need both warm homes and stores of food.
The thing was, what she really needed right now was Naelin. But that wasn’t an option, and Daleina was still a queen.
“Seneschal!” she called.
The man popped through the door so fast that Daleina was certain he’d had his ear pressed to it. Considering the circumstances, she didn’t mind. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Summon the chancellors from western Aratay. Do not tell them why—I will explain.” As soon as she’d recovered enough, she’d be able to pinpoint the exact spots of the worst damage with greater speed than anyone could report. Help could be in place before the innocent victims even asked for it. They may need healers, she thought. “Hamon . . .”
“I’m staying here,” he told her firmly. “But I will send messages to my colleagues.”
“Good enough.” She squeezed his hands. “Don’t be specific as to the cause, just be factual with the medical need—we need them focused, not panicked. I’ll provide precise locations by morning. Go.”
He left, and she waited for the seneschal to return with the chancellors. After the rescue forces were mobilized, she would need to make a speech to her people. She realized as she thought about it that she’d already decided to lie to them, at least for now. They’d been through enough, felt enough fear.
They didn’t need to know they couldn’t trust one of their queens.
Chapter 6
Naelin woke alone in an unfamiliar bed. She stared up at the ceiling. The quilt smelled like herbs, rosemary and sage. More dried herbs hung from the rafters. I’m in Redleaf, she thought. Her head felt fuzzy, and it was hard to remember why she was here, or even where here was. Thoughts kept slipping away from her, like wriggling fish in a stream.
My children are gone, she thought.
Then: No, that can’t be right.
Erian and Llor were curled in the beds in the other rooms. If she went to the doorways, she’d hear their breathing—Erian’s soft and even, Llor with a slight snore because he’d had a bit of a cold. She’d been making him breathe in the steam from a mug of pinewood tea before bed.
Standing, she walked into Llor’s bedroom. She swayed as she walked, her head pounding and her vision tilting with blots of blackness that came and went. And then her mind cleared again for a moment: They’re not here. They’re gone. I lost them. The memory made her gasp as if she’d been stabbed.
Llor’s favorite stuffed animal, a squirrel he called Boo-Boo, was propped on his pillow. Erian had made it for him out of old bedsheets and had sewed buttons for the eyes, lopsided. One was cracked. Sitting on the bed, Naelin hugged the squirrel to her chest.
It smelled like him.
Lying on his pillow, she cradled the squirrel against her.
As her mind began to knit itself back together, she was clear on one important detail: she knew whom she must kill.
Of course, killing Queen Merecot of Semo would not be easy. She was powerful, possibly as powerful as Naelin and certainly better trained. She’d been through several years at the same academy as Daleina and had been a queen for longer than either Daleina or Naelin.
But it had to be done. There was no question that those spirits—the air spirits that had kidnapped her children—were foreign. They owed their allegiance to another queen. And the logical answer to the question of which queen was Merecot. They’d fled north, after all.
Perhaps she’d taken the children for revenge. Naelin had killed her sister, Alet, albeit in self-defense. Naelin had also been instrumental in thwarting her invasion plans. Or perhaps the attack was part of a broader scheme to invade Aratay again—the problem of too many spirits in Semo still remained. Perhaps Merecot sought to weaken one of Aratay’s queens, in preparation for another battle.
Naelin didn’t care what the reason was. There was no forgivable reason.
And there was nothing—absolutely nothing—Merecot could do or say that would prevent Naelin from destroying her and taking back her children.
Struggling against the fog in her mind, she tried to think through the logistics: she’d need Queen Daleina’s help. The disaster at the border had proven that an all-out attack was useless. Merecot’s borders were too well defended. Naelin also wanted Ven’s assistance. She’d have better odds with a trained warrior at her side. It might not be easy to convince him to leave the forest, though. He was a sworn champion. His duty was here in Aratay, preparing a new heir.
Well, she had a duty too.
Leaving Boo-Boo, Naelin placed her crown on her head and checked herself in the mirror. Dark circles under her eyes might have been distressing if it hadn’t been like she was staring into the eyes of a stranger. She pressed her hand against the mirror, over her own reflection.