They reminded him too much of a spirit’s.
“Second reason,” he continued, slightly rattled, “we don’t know who took Erian and Llor and what they want. If the children are still alive, we don’t know what actions will help and what will endanger them further.” He thought of Bayn. At least he could hope that Bayn could take care of himself. He didn’t have that kind of confidence about the children, especially in the clutches of spirits.
“They are alive, we do know what will help, and another battle is imminent,” Naelin said flatly. “As soon as I inform Queen Daleina, I am going after Queen Merecot of Semo and saving my children.”
And that was precisely what he was afraid of. Oh, he hadn’t known exactly what she was thinking, but he’d recognized that focused, battle-ready air. So she blames Merecot . . . He couldn’t blame her, given their history, but there was no proof. “Naelin . . .” he began.
“She did this?” Renet cut in. “Are you sure?”
“I am. The spirits weren’t from Aratay.”
“Naelin—” Ven tried again.
“Don’t tell me I can’t or I shouldn’t. I won’t hear it. I showed her mercy! And this is how she repays me?” Her face was flushed, and her fists were balled. He shot a glance at the nearby houses and wished they’d had this conversation farther from the capital. One saving grace was that in their traveling clothes, they didn’t look like a queen and champion. Just ordinary travelers in a heated discussion, Ven thought. Nothing to see here.
“I’m not telling you no or yes or anything, my queen,” Ven said, keeping his voice calm and soothing. Inside, though, he wanted to shout, No! There was no proof they’d been kidnapped by the queen of Semo. Renthia had other countries with other queens. Just because the spirits had fled north, it didn’t mean Semo was guilty—all it meant was that north was the closest escape route.
Besides, if she charged into Semo without a plan, she’d be killed. He’d defend her with his dying breath, if he had to. But how could he defend her from herself? “All I’m saying is we don’t need to declare our intentions to everyone in Mittriel. Approach the palace as if all is well. Speak with Queen Daleina. And then we decide, together, the best way to proceed.”
He was rather proud of his little speech. Very measured and rational advice. And hopefully Daleina would be able to slow her down. Together, they could decide on a reasonable, achievable response that wouldn’t endanger the children or Aratay or its two queens.
“Fine,” she snarled. “We walk. Just three ordinary citizens on an ordinary day.”
Shouldering a pack, Naelin marched down a bridge.
He and Renet watched her for a moment. “This isn’t good,” Renet observed. “I know how she feels—I feel it too. Helpless. Angry. But I’ve never seen her act like this. Once, maybe, when we had rats in the house. She was this determined.”
“I take it things didn’t turn out well for the rats.”
“Or the house.”
They watched her for a moment more, until she shot a look back at them. The look said clearer than words, Move now. They hurried after her. “We’re going to have to talk sense into her,” Ven said. “She’s acting on raw emotion. That won’t help Erian and Llor.”
“No chance she’ll listen to me,” Renet said. “It’s all you. You’re the one she trusts. Besides, you’re the one who will be there when she meets with Queen Daleina.”
Ven studied Renet. He’s right. Naelin did not have a high opinion of her ex-husband, and even though she hadn’t said it out loud, the fact that they’d lost the children on Renet’s watch had to have an effect. She still hasn’t forgiven me either, for not being able to protect them. But then, I haven’t forgiven myself. If he’d gone with them . . . If he’d kept them in the village instead of allowing them to go off on that damn picnic . . . If he hadn’t placed so much responsibility on Bayn . . . Oh, old friend, I hope you survived.
But he knew it was a thin hope. No one survived the untamed lands. They were death, destruction, wild pain. This was the world, and that was beyond. No human, no animal, no spirit ever went beyond. To go beyond was to never return. Still, Bayn’s not like other wolves.
He almost laughed at the ridiculous optimism. “I’m sorry,” Ven said to Renet. “For what happened. For Erian and Llor.”
“She won’t even talk about them,” Renet said.
Ven nodded. He got that. She was too full of pain to have any room for Renet’s pain.
“Do you . . .” Renet’s voice broke. “Do you really think they could be still alive? They were taken by spirits. How could . . . Is it possible . . .”
“Naelin needs me to believe it. So I do.” Or at least he’d believe it was possible.
He let Renet talk all the way to the palace, story after story about Erian and Llor. Half-listening, he watched Naelin—back straight, chin high, fists curled—and wondered whether he was going to need to keep her from starting a war, or help her start one.
Chapter 8
Queen Daleina lowered her head onto the exquisite table—crafted out of rare suka wood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl shell mosaic, a coronation gift from the queen of the islands of Belene—and slowly thumped her forehead on the surface.
“Your Majesty?” one of the chancellors asked tentatively.
She didn’t lift her head. The shell mosaic was nicely cool. “Exactly how bad will the harvest be? Broad numbers, please.”
Another chancellor cleared his throat. “We lost twenty-five acres of mature trees in the northwest, one hundred fifty per acre. The windstorm battered the trees so badly the fruit was knocked off. The harvesters have gathered as much as they could but the vast majority wasn’t ripe, and the long-term damage to the trees themselves . . . well, frankly, it’s devastating. If you could send spirits to regrow—”
“Seneschal, please add it to the list.” She raised her head. “Next?”
The chancellor who represented western Aratay rose. “As you know, we’ve also seen significant damage in the wake of Queen Naelin’s, um, response—”
“Yes, I know. What do you need?”
“Homes. We lost many homes when the spirits died. Your seneschal has our list of requests, but what I wished to speak with you about was the current problem: the last twenty-four hours have seen a marked increase in spirit attacks. The spirits’ behavior has been unusually aggressive, and there have been numerous injuries, some quite serious. Forgive my presumption, Your Majesty, but could there, perhaps, be a causal relationship between—”
Daleina cut him off. “I will look into it. Thank you. If that’s all . . .” She looked at her seneschal. Please let that be all. Her head was throbbing so enthusiastically that she thought her skull would bruise.
The chancellors started to protest, but the seneschal was bobbing his head, effectively ending the session. “If you’ll follow me, ladies and gentlemen . . .” He led the chancellors to the door of the council room. She rose. Each of them bowed to her before filing out, and she acknowledged each of them with a solemn nod that she hoped communicated I am competent and all will be well soon. Shutting the door behind him, the seneschal left her alone.
She sank back into her throne in front of the mosaic table but didn’t let herself rest. Instead she sent her aching mind outward—yet again—to touch the spirits around the capital. While she couldn’t directly hear Queen Naelin’s thoughts, she could feel the agitation Naelin left in her wake. The woman was a storm sweeping across the land, without any consideration for the damage she was causing.
There’s a reason I don’t keep my mind open to the spirits. And it wasn’t lack of power or fear of death, though those were factors. The spirits don’t need to feel my every emotion. She raised her voice, “Seneschal?”