She could see their assessment of her in those experienced faces, some curious, others openly hostile—she hadn’t won any friends lately, with the spirit deaths and the earthquake and every other disaster she’d caused. She felt a touch of guilt at that, but also dared them to have their reason for living torn away from them and see how they—
An air spirit grew agitated in the corner, and Naelin quickly retreated behind the wall Hanna had taught her to construct.
Once more in control, she sat up straight, composed.
Queen Daleina nodded regally at her, and Naelin wondered how many times she’d practiced that nod before she’d perfected it. The red, gold, and brown streaks in her hair were artfully arranged in coils beneath her crown. This young girl couldn’t come close to commanding the spirits like Naelin could, and yet every time they were near each other, Naelin always felt like the lesser queen. Maybe it was Daleina’s training. Or her experience. Or maybe she was just born wiser than her years. But being with her made Naelin feel as if she were a child, desperately hoping that Daleina could somehow make everything all right. Naelin glanced away only to meet Ven’s eyes, and she saw her own anxious hope mirrored in them.
“Are they alive?” Naelin demanded.
“Yes,” Daleina said.
Naelin closed her eyes for a moment as a wave of relief crashed through her, as strong as a storm. Then she opened her eyes and asked, “Are they unharmed?”
“Yes.”
She lowered her face into her hands. Her body was shaking, and she tried to control it . . . and failed. She didn’t sob, but the tears came nevertheless. Alive and unharmed! Daleina couldn’t have given her any better gift than those yeses.
Queen Daleina raised her voice to address the array of champions, catching their attention before they could ask any questions. “I apologize for the secrecy, and I thank you for your patience.” Briefly, she summarized the situation: Queen Naelin’s children were alive, Queen Merecot had used Semoian air spirits to kidnap them, and Headmistress Hanna from Northeast Academy has been deployed as an ambassador to assess the situation.
As she spoke, she tapped a roll of parchment against her palm—Ambassador Hanna’s report. Naelin, composed once more, stared at it as if she could read through the back of the paper, if only she looked hard enough. She wanted to know more! What had her children said? What were they doing? Were they scared? Did they miss home? Did they know how much she missed them?
She wasn’t the only one who wanted to know more—the champions burst into talking all at once.
Naelin wanted to yell at them to shut their mouths and let Daleina finish, but Daleina merely waited while they chattered louder and louder like excitable birds whose nests had been invaded. Fidgeting in her throne, Naelin felt as if their voices were pecking inside her head:
Outrageous!
Kidnapping the queen’s children!
It’s an act of war! Unconscionable!
We must retaliate!
We must mount a rescue mission!
Finally, Ven’s voice cut through the others. “Your Majesty, what is Ambassador Hanna’s report?” Naelin shot him a grateful look.
“Ambassador Hanna reports that the children are alive and well. They appear to be treated as guests and have suffered no injuries. She believes that Queen Merecot acted out of desperation, on behalf of her people.”
There was another outburst at that:
No excuse!
They’re only children!
Unforgivable.
“In exchange for their safe return,” Daleina said, her hands folded across the parchment. Naelin noticed she wasn’t as calm as she looked—bits of the paper crumbled under her fingers as she clenched and unclenched her hands. “Queen Merecot requests that Queen Naelin visit Semo and use her power to assist in the taming of the excess spirits of Semo.”
“It’s a trap, of course,” one of the champions said, surging to his feet.
“That was our belief at first as well,” Daleina said. “We deployed Ambassador Hanna to determine whether or not it was. She deems it safe enough for Queen Naelin to accept Queen Merecot’s invitation, and I trust her judgment.”
Another champion rose to her feet. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, Ambassador Hanna does not possess the power of Queen Merecot. If she were misled—”
“She is not the kind to be easily misled.”
“—or manipulated.”
Another spoke. “Or if Queen Merecot merely changes her mind. She’s asking us to relinquish our safety net! Aratay has no heirs! If Queen Naelin leaves Aratay and cannot return, for whatever reason, we will again be vulnerable.”
Again, the champions squabbled like a flock of chickens.
Naelin lost track of who was speaking. Reaching across, she extracted the message from Daleina’s grasp and read it. The ambassador’s report was concise, and she outlined her suggestion in clear terms, as well as her certainty that this would solve both Aratay’s problems and Semo’s. “I will, of course, go,” Naelin said.
The champions fell silent.
Lowering the letter, Naelin looked at them. She didn’t see why this was even open to debate, but she tried to formulate her thoughts to explain her reasoning. It was very tempting to say, Because I said so. “First and foremost, I will reclaim my children. But second, this is best for Aratay. If I can help solve the problem of Semo, we will be safe from any further invasions. Our people will be safe.”
“But . . .” one began.
“Do you know I have a nickname already in the outer forest?” Naelin said. “They call me the Mother of Aratay. And I say I will go, for the sake of all my children.”
Her words were met with silence—the kind of silence that feels full of unspoken arguments. The champions shifted uncomfortably in their living wood seats. A few of them glanced at the sky, at the ever-present air spirits that circled above the chamber, like buzzards over a soon-to-be corpse.
“I will leave immediately,” Naelin said to Daleina.
At that, the champions began to argue again.
She waited, letting their voices rise to shouting, her eyes only on Daleina. She agrees, Naelin thought. She knew as soon as she read the report, I’d go.
When a moment of quiet descended on the chamber, while the champions drew breaths to argue again, Naelin rose from her throne. “You may debate it all you wish, but in the end, it is not your decision to make. We,” she said, pointing to Daleina and herself, “are the queens of Aratay. Not you.”
She left the council while the champions continued to argue in her wake, like children who won’t admit the game is lost.
Ignoring the arguments swirling around him, Ven crossed to Daleina and knelt in front of her. “My Queen, with your permission, I will accompany Queen Naelin to Semo.”
Behind him, Champion Sevrin grunted. “You want to make the situation worse, Ven? By the spirits, I thought you had more sense than that.”
Rising, he pivoted. His hands clenched, and he deliberately unclenched them. “She’ll need a guard.”
“Send a palace guard.” Sevrin waved in the direction of the stairs. “Better yet, send a squadron of soldiers. Don’t send a champion.”
“Champion Sevrin is correct,” Champion Jalsia said. “Your skills are needed here, now more than ever. Aratay needs heirs! If this is another ploy by Queen Merecot . . .” She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Nods were echoed all around the council chamber.
It hadn’t occurred to Ven that his fellow champions would object. “Queen Naelin needs—”