“Seneschal,” Hamon said politely.
She kept writing. “I wish to send messages to the queens of Belene, Chell, and Elhim, privately, if possible secretly, and I will need to receive their messages equally discreetly.”
“Green and black ribbons, Your Majesty,” the seneschal responded promptly—she knew he’d have an answer. “Green will alert the queens that the spirit bears a message from the forest queen. Black will signal its sensitivity.”
“Good. I will locate spirits who can carry the messages.” She’d need ones that were willing to fly a distance, into lands that they weren’t tied to, but were calm enough to continue to obey her commands even when they were out of reach of her mind, since even with a queen’s power, she wasn’t strong enough to send her thoughts beyond her borders. Standing, she handed the paper to the seneschal. “Three copies, by your hand only. Let no one else know the contents. I won’t raise hopes when there’s a high chance they will be dashed.”
Accepting the paper, the seneschal bowed and then backed out of the bedchamber.
Hamon was watching her but he hadn’t asked. She loved that about him: he trusted her completely. If she kept secrets, he trusted those secrets wouldn’t hurt him. But there was no reason to keep this from him. “As you said, other lands send herbs, food, supplies we don’t have here, right?”
“Right.”
“So why can’t they also send heirs?”
He paused, thinking it over. Then, “You’ll be admitting weakness to the other queens. What if they have the desire to expand their land, like Queen Merecot? It’s a risk.”
“More than leaving Aratay without a viable heir?” Now that things were set in motion, she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Keeping the bedsheet around her, she walked out onto the balcony once more. The blackness was fading to a pale gray. Nearly dawn, she thought. I wonder if Ven is watching the sunrise from the northern border. “I don’t mind saving the world—it’s what I swore to do. I just don’t like worrying about who is going to save the world when I can’t.”
“You think they’ll spare one of their heirs?”
“I think there’s a chance, and I can’t deny our people that chance.” If she were queen of a country with multiple heirs and received a plea for help, she would have spared one. Truly, hadn’t Semo done just that to Aratay? Although they more stole Merecot than asked for her, or more accurately, Merecot had left, but still . . .
I have to try.
“I value our people’s lives over my sovereignty.”
“Fine. But we don’t even know what the other queens are like.”
“True. But we do know what the spirits are like, and what they’ll do if I die without an heir. Hamon, why are you arguing with me about this?” It was the first solid idea she’d had about how to keep Aratay safe.
He wrapped his arms around her again. “I’m sorry, Daleina. It’s only . . . I don’t like any plan that presumes you’re going to die.”
Oh. I see. She never really ever thought of it like that, but of course he was right—it was only a problem if she died. “This is plan B. Or even C. I don’t plan to die.”
“Then make plan A: you don’t die.”
She smiled. “All right. It’s official. Plan A is no dying.”
“Dying can be plan Z,” he said.
“Guess I’m going to need a lot more plans.”
He smiled back at her, his special smile that made her feel as if hot liquid were pouring through her. “Do you have any plans for right now?” he asked, and then kissed her neck and shoulders.
“Yes, I believe I do.”
She led the bedsheet slip off her, falling into a pile at her bare feet.
Chapter 17
At dawn, Naelin called to two air spirits to carry them into Semo. She’d said goodbye to Ven’s mother and sister already, and Sira had climbed monkeylike up to the tips of the trees. The slight shiver of the leaves betrayed that she was high up at the top of the canopy, on branches that Naelin wouldn’t trust, and she was singing to the sunrise. “Don’t you worry about her?” Naelin asked Ven.
He didn’t look up from his pack as he loaded supplies into it. “Always.”
“I mean right now, when she’s so high up.”
He glanced up at the canopy above. The crinkled brown leaves were edged with a lemon-yellow glow, and the bits of sky were pale. “I don’t worry about that. She knows how to climb.”
“But a branch could snap.”
“She’d feel it.”
“What do you worry about then?”
“I worry that one day she’ll realize the sun will rise whether she sings to it or not, and she’ll quit springing out of bed as if the day were made just for her. I worry that she’ll realize her little brother sometimes makes mistakes, and that just because she trusts me and Mother, it doesn’t mean she’ll always be safe or that everything will work out for the best. I worry that she’ll stop believing in the power of good over evil, and that she’ll learn that sometimes bad things happen no matter how hard you fight.”
It was a lengthy speech for Ven. Fighting with his mother must have made him contemplative. She studied him—he had depths it was easy to overlook when he was busy being his competent, in-control self. “And do you worry about me too?”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t.”
He paused his packing and looked at her. “Are you promising you won’t do anything to endanger yourself while we’re in Semo?”
I’ll do whatever’s necessary to save Erian and Llor, so . . . no, I’m not promising that. “I’m saying that maybe your mother is right. Maybe you should return to Mittriel, be a champion, and I will be a queen.” And a mother.
He studied her a moment longer. “You think it’s a trap.”
“I think Queen Merecot was desperate enough to invade Aratay, so who knows what she’s capable of? She could have tricked Headmistress Hanna into sending that message.”
“You’re right. And if it is a trap, then it’s even more important that I come with you.”
Naelin felt a little of the tension seep out of her shoulders. She wanted him to come, desperately. She might need his help to save Erian and Llor. But she didn’t want to force him. I’d never forgive myself if I ordered him to come and something happened. She was only starting to realize that, for him, there was no place he’d rather be than by her side. It was . . . a strange feeling, to have someone so selflessly give themselves to her when for so long it had been her who’d always been the one who gave and gave. “Thank you.” She tried to put every bit of what she felt into those two words. She nearly added, I love you, but didn’t. It didn’t seem right, to tie that love to gratitude.
But she felt it anyway.
His smile warmed her heart even more, and she was pretty sure he heard those unsaid words. “Let’s go,” he said.
Outside, she mounted an air spirit that looked like a deer with wings. Its antlers were coated in down-soft feathers, and its fur was white. Ven’s spirit was shaped like a serpent with golden scales. It had wings like an eagle, which it spread wide until its wingtips brushed the bark of the nearby trees. Naelin had chosen these spirits because they could fly great distances, and she intended to ride them all the way to the capital, bypassing the border guards and arriving on her own terms. She’d heard how Queen Merecot had sent a spirit-pulled chariot for Ambassador Hanna—Hanna had included that in her report—but Naelin had no intention of trusting Merecot with her or Ven’s safety.