Hadn’t even thought about it.
Didn’t want to.
Havtru seemed surprised, even shocked. “But you’re the best! You need to train another candidate—the queens need an heir, a good one.”
Naelin needs me now. And Daleina. I failed the last three queens in one way or another. I don’t know if I can go through that again. What I can do, though, is give you all the time to find the next one. “Train your candidate. But keep her secret, to keep her safe,” Ven said.
“I will,” Havtru promised.
Rather than continue the conversation, Ven jumped off the platform and onto a vine. He started the course again and tried to block out every doubt, every fear, and every emotion he felt.
He tried to move faster than ever.
So he’d never be late again.
After an hour, Ven finished his workout, wiped the sweat from his face and armpits with a towel, and then trudged back into the palace. He bypassed the blue-robed caretakers who fluttered around him, trying to steer him to the baths, and he climbed the spiral stairs toward Naelin’s quarters.
She won’t care if I’m clean or dirty. Her practicality was one of her best qualities. She knew people sometimes sweat and smelled and bled and cried and basically acted human. He didn’t have to be anything other than who he was with her. And if she wants to rage and cry and be human, I’ll be there for her.
That was all he could do right now.
Not that he didn’t wish he could do more. Like march into Semo and steal away Erian and Llor. He hated waiting for someone else to act.
But that wasn’t his call.
In this branch of the palace, the walls were white wood, like the pulpy heart of a tree but polished until it gleamed. Fire spirits kept the sconces burning by dancing from wick to wick, and their shadows writhed on the walls. There were cracks like knife-cut scars that ran through the wood. Probably from Naelin’s earthquake. In more peaceful times, Daleina would have sent tree spirits to heal the hallways. Not exactly a priority now. If anything, they were important reminders that Aratay was far from safe.
Especially while Aratay was still without heirs.
Guards were posted outside of Queen Naelin’s chambers. He nodded to them, but before he could ask them to announce him, a man spoke from down the hall. “She ate one pear and a slice of bread.” It was Renet, slumped against the wall. “At least she’s not starving herself.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I only want to make sure she’s okay.”
Ven turned to one of her guards. “Is she okay?”
The guard nodded crisply. “Yes, Champion. Healer Hamon visited this morning and checked her vitals. She has taken nourishment, and she has slept. But she has requested privacy.”
Ven considered leaving without announcing his presence—if she wanted to be left alone, then she should be, but he also wanted her to know he’d come by. If she decides she doesn’t want to be alone, I want her to know I’m near. We can be impatient together. “She doesn’t have to see me if she doesn’t want to, but could you please tell her I came by to see if she’s all right?”
The guard knocked on the door and relayed the message.
Ven heard Naelin’s voice from within, too muffled for him to parse the words, but the guard had his ear pressed against the door. “She said to tell you she’s occupied and to ask you to take Master Renet elsewhere.”
Naelin paced from one end of the overly ornate bedroom to the other. She knew she’d made the right decision, both for her children and for Aratay. But it should still be me, traveling to Semo, taking the risks, searching for Erian and Llor.
She’d reconsidered her decision to remain here six times every hour, beginning the moment Headmistress Hanna started north. She wasn’t used to second-guessing herself. Much less third-, fourth-, or fifth-guessing.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker in the fireplace. She glared at it, and the fire spirit shriveled. It was a tiny one, the shape of a lizard, its scales stained with soot. Its tongue was fire, and a white-hot stripe burned along its back, ending in a blue flame on the tip of its tail. “Come to mock my pain, spirit? Your kind must be enjoying this.” They lived to see humans suffer, after all.
To her surprise, it spoke. She hadn’t thought a spirit so small would be able to talk. Its voice was a crackling hiss. “I want to burn for you.”
She was about to send it away, but then she stopped. “You do? And what do you want to burn?” She felt its eagerness, an itch inside her mind.
“Anyone. Everyone.”
Naelin studied the little spirit. It was writhing on a cold log, boring a circle of char into the bark. Maybe I can’t do anything to help Erian and Llor right now . . . but maybe I can be ready when it’s time. “How would you like to play a game?”
The fire lizard wiggled in excitement.
Throwing open the wardrobe, she pulled out one of the more ridiculous dresses, a poofy concoction that reminded her of an overstuffed peach pie, and then hung it from the bed canopy. She made a mental note to apologize to the caretakers later—she’d find a way to make it up to them. “Let’s pretend this is an enemy spirit.”
Silently, she issued the order:
Burn it.
Hurt it.
With glee, the lizard bounded out of the fireplace. Leaping up onto the bed, it danced across the hem of the dress, licking it with its fiery tongue. The fabric began to smoke.
Higher, Naelin ordered, sending the lizard running up the skirt and bodice of the dress. She didn’t want to torture the Semoian spirits; she wanted to defeat them. It would be useful to know which orders were most effective.
Soon, she sensed other fire spirits had crept down through the chimney and were clustered on her hearth—some were like the lizard, others were more like tiny dragons, still others looked like little people made of flame. She reached out to them, commanding them to act in concert, attacking the poor innocent dress.
Smoke thickened in the bedroom, and Naelin summoned air spirits to whisk it away out the window and up the flume. And once she had the air spirits around her, she set them to destroying a finely crafted table.
She was standing in the middle of a cyclone of destruction, feeling better than she had in days, when a guard knocked on her door. “Your Majesty,” he called through the door. “Champion Ven has come to inquire as to your well-being. Also, Master Renet remains in the hallway, awaiting your pleasure.”
She’d forgotten that Renet was outside—she’d told the guard she didn’t want to see him right now. Looking around the room, she thought she was still not ready for visitors, albeit for entirely different reasons. “Please tell Champion Ven I am . . . occupied.” Beside her, a tree spirit pierced a cushion with needle-like spears that it grew from its knuckles. “And please ask him to take Renet elsewhere.”
I’ve found my own way to cope with waiting. He needs to too.
Turning her attention back to the spirits, she practiced splitting them into groups and guiding them to attack a couch cushion from multiple directions.
The cushion did not survive.
He wasn’t offended. He knew the need for time alone. And she deserved to have whatever time she wanted without either her lover or her ex-lover lurking nearby. “If she asks for me, please send word,” Ven told the guard. To Renet, he said, “Come with me.”
“Where to?” Renet asked. He didn’t budge.
One of the guards scowled at him. “When the Queen’s Champion issues an order, you don’t question it.” The other leveled a kick at Renet’s knees. A light kick, but it still sent Renet scrambling to his feet.
Truthfully, Ven didn’t have an answer—he didn’t think Naelin cared where in the palace Renet went, as long as it wasn’t near her. Ven headed for the stairs. Behind him, he heard Renet follow, albeit slowly.
“I loved her before she was queen,” Renet said, following Ven down the stairs.