So much for impressing her, Daleina thought.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Or are you here to visit my protégée?” Garnah frowned at one of the workbenches. “Arin, don’t let the wormtongue bathe in the hazel brine for more than three minutes.”
“Oh!” Arin hurried back across the laboratory, secured her glasses, and then used tongs to lift a gnarled root out of a container of algae-green water.
Hamon shook his head. “Mother, tell me you aren’t teaching her how to make beetle bane.” Daleina recognized the name of the poison—it was a common one for eliminating vermin from crops of berries, but mishandled it could be toxic. It was one reason why every cook washed berries before cooking with them.
“She’s not making beetle bane,” Garnah said.
“I’m making breath-choker juice,” Arin said cheerfully.
Daleina sighed. If their parents ever learned about half the things that Arin was meddling with, they’d yank Arin out of Mittriel so fast that she wouldn’t even have time to pack. I should tell them. Even if they blame me. At least at home her sister would be safe. “Is that as ominous as it sounds?”
“Certainly hope so,” Garnah said. “Otherwise she’ll have to start over. But you didn’t come to talk about mundane things like death. What do you need, Your Majesty?”
Daleina debated several ways to frame the request and then opted for the direct approach. “Queen Merecot has Queen Naelin’s two children, and has requested Queen Naelin’s assistance in exchange for their safe return. I need you to accompany Queen Naelin to Semo and do what you can to keep her alive until the problem of excess spirits is solved.”
“And after it’s solved,” Ven put in. “Keeping her alive in general would be good. We like her living.” He was fingering the hilt of his sword, and Daleina wasn’t certain if it was Garnah or the spirit on the crown that was making him uneasy. Or maybe it’s the deadly poison that my baby sister is brewing . . .
“We don’t trust Queen Merecot for obvious reasons,” Daleina said, “and I believe that your expertise and experience would make you the ideal choice—”
Garnah smiled sweetly. “You’re so kind to think of me, but no, thank you.”
Daleina tried again. “Your service would be greatly appreciated. And well rewarded. In fact, if this mission is successful, you and all those who accompany Naelin would be considered heroes. Songs would be sung about you by canopy singers for generations.”
“While all that fame sounds lovely, I cannot leave my beloved son now that I have at last found him.” Garnah patted Hamon’s cheek, and he flinched. “I assume you won’t be going to Semo on this joyful jaunt?”
“I’m needed here, with Queen Daleina, as her personal healer,” Hamon said.
“Very personal, I know.” Garnah winked. “But don’t think I disapprove! I think it’s delightful! What more could a mother hope for, than for her son to find happiness in the arms of—”
Ven growled, “Enough.”
Garnah clapped her hands together. “I’ve embarrassed the unflappable champion! Shall we discuss your love life next? It’s all very romantic. Many forest girls fall asleep each night by imagining a champion will choose them above all others and elevate them to a life of importance and meaning.”
His hands were clenched into fists. “Queen Naelin’s life had meaning before me.”
“Oh, that’s right, it did!” Garnah’s voice was filled with mock surprise. Daleina knew she should say something, stop this before . . . before what? What was Garnah aiming at? What did she want? “She had her children, the center of her world, the reason for her reluctance to claim power. They were her meaning in life. And because of you taking her unwillingly out of the life she’d chosen for herself . . . she lost them.”
She heard Ven’s breath hiss as if he’d been punched in the stomach, and Daleina stepped between Garnah and Ven, using the breadth of her skirts as a barrier between them. “Poison-Master Garnah—”
“I lost my son once,” Garnah said, all amusement gone from her voice. “He was the center of my world, my meaning in life, and I won’t lose him again, no matter the cost. You may command me to leave, but I will resist. You cannot force me to leave my reason for being. I’m quite certain Queen Naelin will feel the same way, once she has reclaimed her lost children.”
Hamon sighed. “Mother, there’s a vast difference between you and Queen Naelin. You didn’t lose me. I left you because you’re an immoral serial killer.”
Garnah was silent for a moment, then said, “I prefer ‘amoral.’”
Daleina didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or scream. Instead she crossed to the nearest workbench and studied the array of scribbled-on parchment, bottles of herbs and other ingredients, and beakers of oddly colored liquids. Maybe she shouldn’t push Garnah to go to Semo. It had seemed like such a perfect solution: the poison maker could protect Naelin (and as a bonus quit tormenting Hamon and corrupting Arin), but even if she issued an order and even if Garnah obeyed, Daleina didn’t know if she could trust her. Maybe I’m being selfish, wanting her to go. If I send enough protection, it feels less as if I’m sending Naelin to her death.
Beside her, Arin had taken off her glasses and the thick leather gloves. She neatened a stack of papers. “I’ll go,” she said quietly.
Daleina flinched. “Don’t be absurd.”
“I may not be training as a poisoner, but I think my skills may be even more useful,” Arin said. “I have been working with Master Garnah to develop defensive potions, effective against spirits. I can help defend Queen Naelin and her children against Queen Merecot’s spirits.”
“Absolutely not.” Arin was barely more than a child! It was one thing to apprentice her to a confessed killer—that was bad enough—but to send her into known danger in a foreign land . . . Merecot could blame Daleina for the death of her sister, Alet. I’d have to be foolish to give Merecot such an easy way for revenge. “I need you here.”
“Actually, you don’t. You have Healer Hamon and Master Garnah. Let me go, Daleina. I can be useful. I know I can. And unlike anyone else you send, no one will think that I’m there to guard the queen—they’ll look at me and see a young girl. I’ll be like a secret weapon.”
Daleina wanted to shake her by the shoulders. “You are a young girl.”
“So were you not too long ago. I may be young, but I know how to defend myself.”
“Against a queen? Against her spirits?”
Pressing her lips together, Arin reached up to the tiny spirit that had nested in Daleina’s hair. Do no harm, Daleina reminded the spirit. Gently, Arin untangled the hair around it and lifted it over the crown. Cooing to it, she held the spirit cupped in her hands.
Daleina held her breath. She knew exactly how much courage it took for Arin to stand there, holding something that had the capacity to maim or kill her when Arin had no power to—
Shifting the spirit to one hand, Arin drew out a powder with another and blew it into the face of the spirit. And the spirit stiffened as if it had been frozen.
Arin set it down on the workbench and flicked it with her finger.
The spirit fell over.
“I know potions that can flay the flesh off them,” Arin said. “Potions that cause them to sleep. Potions that confuse them. I can set them on fire with one vial of the right powders. I can cause them to drown in their own breath. I can stop them from harming me or Queen Naelin. Let me go, Daleina. I will make you proud.”
Daleina stared at her.
Arin stared back.
Laughing, Garnah applauded.
“Absolutely not,” Daleina said, storming out of the room as regally as she could.