“I know.” What he didn’t know was why Renet was bringing it up now.
“I saw the potential in her before you even knew she existed. She was the queen of my heart before she was queen of this land. Someday I’ll win her back.”
Ven tried to summon some sympathy and failed. This wasn’t the time for either of them to feel jealousy—Naelin needed all the support they both could give her. He made a noncommittal sort of grunt.
More plaintively, Renet asked, “Do you think she will ever allow me to win her back?”
Ven suppressed a sigh. “I don’t know that I’m the best person to answer that.”
“I don’t deserve her. Probably never did. But a person can change. Can’t they?”
Ven was grateful when his feet led him to where he hadn’t even realized he was going: to the eastern throne room, where Queen Daleina was. Because if he couldn’t serve one queen, then he would be useful to the other. He didn’t pause as the guards threw the doors open in front of him but strode inside without slowing.
Daleina and the seneschal looked up from the stacks of papers they had spread across the council table. He saw the dark shadows under her eyes and the wisps of hair that had escaped her crown. Behind him, he heard Renet halt abruptly.
“Your Majesty,” Ven said, inclining his head. “Apologies for the interruption. This is Renet, father to Erian and Llor. He needs something useful to do. A distraction from his . . . current situation.”
Daleina looked startled for only an instant, then masked it. “Welcome, Renet, and please accept our sympathy for the current situation. We would be delighted for your assistance, if that’s your wish.” She’s had too much experience with surprises lately, Ven thought.
Renet’s jaw hung open. “Uh . . . .” Belatedly, he dropped into a bow so low he nearly toppled over. Recovering, he straightened. “Your Majesty, I . . . That is . . . Ahh . . .”
“Champion Havtru had been assisting us in sorting through requests for help.” Daleina waved her hand at the papers. “But he pleaded champion duties today. You could take his place. The requests must be organized by priority. Imminent death takes top priority; aesthetics are last. I’ll review them when you’re finished. Seneschal, would you please show Renet what needs to be done?”
The seneschal bowed to her. He was a thin, tall man, taller than most, with a hawklike nose that had been broken once and white eyebrows that obscured half his eyes. His uniform was, as always, crisp and pressed. Ven remembered his name was Belsowik, though like his predecessors, he insisted on being known only by his title. He valued his duty above his personal needs. Ven approved of that. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Queen Daleina swept around the table and placed a hand on Renet’s shoulder. “Thank you.” The words were heartfelt, and Ven knew he’d at least done something right today.
Renet looked as if he were going to faint. Ven suppressed a grin and managed to look the stern warrior while the young queen swept past the overwhelmed man and then looped her hand through Ven’s arm. He guided her out of the throne room. Under her breath, Daleina said, “If I see one more paper, I will shred it into flakes.”
“I think I know a cure for that.”
“Hamon isn’t—”
“No medicine involved.” He led her up the palace stairs, higher and higher.
Spirits flitted around them, more than usual. A tiny air spirit with dragonfly wings and a humanlike face hovered by Daleina’s shoulder and stroked her hair before darting away. Tree spirits poked their heads out of cracks and knots in the wood to watch her pass.
A fire spirit curled up in a sconce leapt to its feet and writhed as if it wanted to catch her attention. Ven saw her pause, focus on it, and the spirit curled back around its wick and seemed to purr like a cat that had been stroked.
“You want to tell me what’s going on with them?” Ven asked. He’d never seen spirits act so . . . non-homicidal before. It’s almost as if they like her.
“I think what happened with Naelin upset them,” Daleina said. “They’re making nice so that I don’t hurl them across a hostile border like she did. Or so I’ll protect them if she tries again.” She held out her hand as they walked out onto a balcony, and a spirit shaped out of wisps of cotton landed on her index finger. “I didn’t know they could even be scared.” She cradled the spirit in her hands as if comforting it and then released it. It circled around her head once before flying up toward the clouds.
“Don’t feel so sorry for them that you trust them,” Ven cautioned.
“I’ll never do that. Remember who trained me.” She smiled, but there was sadness there too.
He knew she was remembering her friends who had died in the Coronation Massacre. He could read the shadows on her face—he knew he wore those same shadows on his own. So many had died over so many generations at the claws and teeth of spirits. Still, though, even he saw that there was beauty to them.
Leaning against the balcony rail, he watched two tree spirits race over a branch. They looked like squirrels that had been dipped in vats of paint. Both had autumn-colored leaves sprouting from their bodies. Chittering, they disappeared into a hole in the tree.
“So what is this cure?” Daleina asked.
Ven jumped onto the balcony railing and reached up to unhook a clip from a wire. The wire path connected this part of the palace to a tree in the heart of Mittriel. It wasn’t used often because queens typically traveled with a retinue of guards. He wiggled the clip at her. “You need to soar.”
He saw her try to glare at him and then she gave up and grinned. Squatting on the railing, he held out his hand. Daleina scooped up her skirts with one hand and took his hand with the other. Up on the railing, she hooked herself onto the wire path. He secured himself onto the wire as well.
Pushing off together, they sailed above their city.
Chapter 12
Near the northern border of Aratay, Hanna and her guards descended from the trees to cross the final miles to Semo on the ground—the trees were too thin and spaced too far apart, and the population was so scattered that there were not enough bridges for Hanna and her entourage to be able to travel at midforest level. She rather liked approaching from so low, however. It made the moment feel, well, momentous.
Certainly the view is glorious. Ahead, between the last few trees, were the mountains.
Snowcapped peaks broke the horizon into a serrated line. It looked as if enormous claws had scraped away the blue of the sky. The faces of the mountains were a mix of gray and black, and Hanna had the urge to paint pictures of them, even though she had never painted before in her life. Like the forests of Aratay, the mountains of Semo were breathtaking in their extreme beauty.
“Most impressive,” she declared.
The nearest guard, Serk, snorted—politely, but she heard it and raised her eyebrows at him. Ducking his head, he mumbled, “I miss the forest already.”
“Semo has trees too.” She pointed ahead to a patch of fir trees, a swatch of beautiful dark green framed by severe mountains. A vast waterfall tumbled beside the trees into a lake that glittered like a thousand jewels in sunlight.
“It’s not the same.”
It certainly wasn’t. Whereas Aratay was an unbroken sea of forest, the trees in Semo were scattered and seemed spindly, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the mountains. Yet there was beauty there too. “Come now, mountains are invigorating!” Hanna rolled herself forward, out of the forest, until she felt it: the border. She was surprised she could sense it, since she wasn’t a queen, but her skin prickled and her nose twitched with a nascent sneeze. The air even tasted different, as if an additional spice had been dropped into it.