He laid a hand over his wound. She saw his shirt was speckled with blood. “I’m fine. Let’s not show weakness in front of Queen Merecot’s people.” He nodded significantly at something—or someone—over Naelin’s shoulder.
She turned to see castle guards dressed in marble-white armor, pouring out of an archway. Ven drew his sword and stood ready by Naelin as she straightened to face them.
What am I doing here? I’m just a woodswoman. She’d never imagined she’d leave the forest to stand on the pinnacle of the capital of Semo, on the side of a mountain. But here I am.
I am a not just a woodswoman.
I am a woman of the woods.
I am the queen.
Ven spoke in a booming voice: “This is Queen Naelin of Aratay, answering the request of Queen Merecot of Semo. Stand down, or face the wrath of your queen and ours.”
The guards did not stand down. Shoulder to shoulder, they held their swords ready, their faces implacable and unreadable through their helmets.
Projecting the confidence of Queen Daleina and the arrogance of Poison-Master Garnah, Naelin walked toward the guards with her shoulders back and head held high, as if she intended to walk straight through them.
Wavering, the guards looked at one another.
“Call for your queen,” Ven suggested. “Let her tell you what to do.”
One guard whispered to another, who nodded, and then a third guard bolted back through the archway. Naelin halted, waited, outwardly calm, the way she used to wait for Erian and Llor to settle down after chasing each other around the room. Don’t let them see they have any power. They’d have power only if she gave it to them.
One of the guards began, “If you will lay down your weapons—”
“We will not,” Naelin cut him off. She felt a stirring in the air that prickled the skin on her arms. Spirits. Lots of them, close by.
“You cannot be permitted before the queen armed—”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ven switch his grip on his sword, still ready. “As I recall,” she said, “the last time your queen visited our land, she came with an army. Be grateful we didn’t come with one as well.”
The guards tightened their grips on their weapons.
Softly, Ven said, “Maybe we should have waited for that escort at the border.”
“Nonsense,” Naelin said. “Queen Merecot wants us here. That’s the whole reason she took my children.” She raised her voice louder so it would carry on the wind. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”
With a whoosh of wind, Queen Merecot rose beyond the balcony, standing on the backs of air spirits, one foot on each. “Yes indeed. Welcome, Queen Naelin. You disappointed the escort I sent for you and ruined the elaborate welcome I’d planned.”
Naelin studied her face, searching for a hint of whether this was a trap, or whether she was sorry for what she did and the pain and fear she put Naelin, Erian, and Llor through. But Queen Merecot neither looked filled with remorse nor did she launch into any kind of confession. If that’s how you want it to go, so be it.
“You can save your theatrics for another audience,” Naelin said. “I’m here for my children, and to discuss the future of Semo.”
Merecot twisted her lips into a smile, even though what she really wanted to do was snarl at Naelin like a wolf. This was the woman who had killed her sister, Alet. And I’m not going to forget that. But she knew she had to make nice. Especially since Ven still had his sword out and was looking exceptionally grumpy, even for the famed champion.
Stepping lightly off the two spirits, Merecot dismissed them and nodded to the guards. “Notify Headmistress . . . excuse me, Ambassador Hanna that we will be meeting in the West Room, and arrange for refreshments to be sent there as well.” To her visitors, she said, “You’ll be pleasantly surprised to discover that Semo has a variety of delicious traditional dishes. Despite the surroundings, we don’t eat rocks and gravel.”
Ugh, she hated being polite.
“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Queen Naelin said in a dry voice. “But before anything, I want to see my children.”
“Of course.” She’d let Queen Naelin see them. But only see, for now. That was Queen Jastra’s advice—keep them apart as long as possible. Once Naelin and Ven had the kids, then Merecot would have no more leverage. And she didn’t believe the queen and her champion were here with peaceful intent. Daleina had to be using this opportunity to further one of her own plots, some kind of revenge or power play, and once they’d secured the children, Naelin and Ven would serve as part of her larger plan. They’ve already humiliated me in front of my nation and murdered my sister. What’s next? Deposing me? But she kept a pleasant smile on her face, even though it made her cheeks feel like they were going to crack, and led her guests through the archway to the stone stairs that spiraled down into the heart of the palace.
Their steel armor clanking, her guards marched ahead of her. The stairs felt too narrow, with her visitors, her guards, and the heavy stone walls on either side. She’d rather have flown down on the backs of the spirits, but she was sure Naelin and Ven would have objected to that—certainly they didn’t trust her. I wouldn’t trust me, she thought.
I don’t trust me.
She smirked at herself. Maybe this would be entertaining. Maybe she could keep them off-balance enough that they wouldn’t enact whatever they were plotting. She needed to hold the cards in this game, and she wasn’t sure she did at the moment. But she was going to pretend as if she had every advantage until she figured out if that was true . . . or until she made it true.
For now, though, thanks to her air spirits, she did have one enormous advantage.
She halted at a window overlooking one of the many castle courtyards. Below, ringed by guards, were Erian and Llor. She’d given them marbles to play with. But not just any marbles—these were tiny earth spirits, on orders to both entertain and watch the children.
Erian and Llor were laughing as they chased the “marbles” around the courtyard. The marbles bashed into one another as they rolled haphazardly over the flagstones. “You see? They’re happy and unharmed.” She shot a smug smile at Naelin—and then her smile faltered.
The look on Queen Naelin’s face was enough to shred your heart.
She seemed to be feeling every emotion at once: joy, pain, relief, longing. And Merecot had to look away. I didn’t mean . . . But no, she had meant to cause this. She’d intended to use these children, and she was going to continue using them and using Naelin’s emotions for as long as she had to. For the sake of Semo.
For the sake of all Renthia.
“Once our negotiations are concluded, you may, of course, reclaim them.” Under extremely heavy guard, and only if negotiations went well.
“I’ll go to them now,” Naelin said. “They should know their mother is here.”
Merecot sighed dramatically. “I hate having to threaten people.” Then she paused. “Oh wait, no. I don’t.”
She flicked her mind at the “marbles.” Each earth spirit stopped, and then they began to roll toward Erian and Llor, coming at them from all directions. The children abruptly quit laughing. They stood back to back in the center of the courtyard.
She felt Naelin’s mind poking at the edges of Merecot’s control. But these were Merecot’s spirits, bound to her, and she was focusing her will on them. She didn’t let that control waver. “Discussion first, then you may join your children.”
Naelin’s mind retreated—it felt like a cloud moving away from the sun—and Merecot switched her order to the tiny earth spirits. Play, she told them. Play nice. And they resumed chaotically bouncing around the courtyard.