“Not true. I don’t care about myself at all. Everything I do is for the good of Renthia. You, on the other hand . . . Of the two of us, I think it’s clear which of us is the more selfish. I care about the fate of thousands of people, yet you would have given up all your power, abdicated the throne, left Aratay in danger, for the sake of your children.”
Naelin bristled. She has no right to judge me, she thought. “I love my children more than my own life!”
“You love your children more than anyone’s life,” Merecot said. “As my sister found out. But that’s not the issue, and who you love is not my problem—at least, I hope it isn’t. So long as you serve their needs, the excess spirits won’t care where your loyalties lie, and neither will I. Let’s do this, shall we?”
Naelin wanted to argue. This young girl playing at queen had no idea what it meant to be a mother. She’d never woken ten times in the night, just to check that her child was still breathing. She’d never worried about whether she was making her child too scared or not scared enough while she warned them to be careful, always careful. She’d never been aware—so aware that it made her skin prickle and her heart thump faster—of how little she could control in the world around them, of how fragile they were, and of how finite days were. “You don’t—”
And then she cut herself off as Queen Merecot summoned a massive earth spirit. Shaped like a giant slug, it burrowed up through the dirt in the courtyard. Broken flagstones spilled back from its bulbous body.
Naelin stepped back—she’d been so caught up in feeling outraged that she hadn’t sensed it, but here it was, looming in her consciousness. Its hate felt hazy and distant, as if leftover from a previous emotion, and she sensed no coherent thought beyond down, down, dig deep, dig down.
“Creepy thing,” Ven muttered, hand straying to his sword. “Naelin?”
“It’s not attacking,” Naelin said.
“Of course it’s not attacking—I summoned it,” Merecot said, exasperated, as she climbed onto its back. “The Queen’s Grove of Semo is hidden within the mountains. Fastest way to reach it is to take tunnels. If the worst happens, Ambassador, this is the kind of spirit an heir must summon. It and its ilk know the way.”
“And I find an heir how?” Hanna said testily. “Since you’ve shirked your responsibility to choose one.”
“All the heirs attended the wedding. You’ll find them in the West Room. Choose whomever seems least annoying.” Leaning down, Merecot held out her hand to Naelin.
Naelin hesitated. Can I trust her?
“Not the time for second thoughts,” Merecot said. “Climb on board. I’ve got a whole country full of people depending on me who need this to work.”
She wondered if Merecot saw her people like they’re her children. Could she? If so . . . Before Naelin could decide, Ven stepped in front of the earth spirit. “I’m coming too.”
“You can’t,” Merecot said. “We discussed this. Unlike the spirits of Aratay, the spirits of Semo won’t enter the grove if others are present. Or more accurately, they will, but they’ll be very pissed off. Your presence will endanger our lives.”
“I’ll wait outside. But I will go with my wife as far as I can.”
Merecot looked as if she was about to argue more, but Ambassador Hanna didn’t let her. “If I must stay here, then he must go,” Hanna said. “Besides, your people would be suspicious if they saw him without his bride so soon after the wedding, and I know you want this to be secret. At least until you’re sure it will succeed.”
The other queen scowled but agreed. “It will succeed. But fine. Come with us, Ven. You can’t enter the grove, but you can lurk outside it in whatever threatening manner you’d like. Honestly, you champions are more stubborn than mountain goats. And believe me, Semo has more than enough of those.”
Naelin climbed onto the spirit, and Ven got on behind her. The earth spirit’s flesh squished beneath her. It smelled sour, like dirt with dung mixed in, after the rain. Breathing through her mouth so she wouldn’t smell it, she hung on to its stiff hairs as the spirit plunged back into the hole it had made.
Inside the tunnel, the darkness was complete. She saw the same whether her eyes were open or closed, and the only sounds were their breathing, the huffing of the spirit, and the sprinkling sound of pebbles rolling downhill. It was equal parts horrifying and disgusting, but Naelin said nothing. She thought about Erian and Llor. Once I finish this, I’ll never have to be parted from them again. Assuming it works . . .
At last, the slug spirit emerged from the tunnels. Above, the sky was dimpled with stars, and the mountains were black shadows that sliced up the night sky. She saw torches lit in a line toward slabs of stone, standing side by side in a circle.
The Queen’s Grove of Semo.
All three of them slid off the spirit’s back. Merecot plucked dirt off her dress and straightened her crown. “Shall we?”
Ven placed his hands on either side of Naelin’s face and kissed her so deeply that she felt as if her bones were melting. She caught her breath while he turned to Merecot. “Understand that if you emerge from the grove and Naelin does not, I will kill you.”
Merecot smiled frostily. “You will try.”
Naelin placed a hand on Ven’s chest, as if that would hold him back if he decided to attack Merecot. “Let’s not threaten each other when the goal is to survive this, right?” She pleaded with her eyes, trying to make him understand that she did intend to survive this. She had a purpose now, and a goal. Everything had changed when she’d learned of what Queen Jastra had done. He put his hand over hers, holding it until she stepped away.
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Merecot said, rolling her eyes. “Come on.”
The queen of Semo headed toward the circle of stones, and Naelin followed after her. Wind whistled through the canyon, and cold pricked her arms. She heard no other sound. No birds. No animals. No crickets. She felt as if the mountains were watching her.
The only light was from the line of torches and the crescent moon above. She wondered who had placed the torches here, or if they’d been lit by fire spirits. She sensed no spirits nearby—even the earth spirit who’d brought them had retreated back into the rock.
Far in the distance, south beyond the border, she felt the rest of the spirits of Aratay like a tingle. She couldn’t distinguish between individual spirits, but she knew they were there, linked to her. She wondered what it would feel like when she severed her connection to them. It could hurt. Or it might feel no different from clipping off a dead fingernail.
Much closer, Naelin brushed her mind against the serpent-shaped spirit of Aratay who had carried her to Semo. She’d sent their other mount, the feathered deer, away earlier, to bring her message to Daleina, but this one was still at the castle, awaiting her orders. Go south. Fly to Aratay. She wanted it closer to Daleina, where the other queen could more easily reassert her power over it.
Naelin felt the spirit fly toward the border and felt a twinge of . . . I can’t be feeling sadness. I never wanted to be their queen. You can’t regret what you didn’t want.
The two queens entered the stone circle.
“Careful. It’s slippery,” Merecot said. “I fell twice when I was crowned.”
“Really?” She couldn’t imagine Merecot ever doing anything that uncontrolled.
“Not really. I’m just trying to make you feel better. Did it work?”
“No.” It was barren rock within, but polished until it gleamed, so smooth that Naelin had to walk gingerly to avoid slipping. Hardly a historic moment if I fall on my butt, she thought. On the other hand, at least there was no one here to see, except Merecot.
Still, even empty, the grove felt oddly alive. The silence was a hushed one—the silence of a person holding her breath, not the hollow silence of a vacant room. It was the same feeling as the Queen’s Grove in Aratay, as if she’d walked into a place so steeped in memories and expectations that the very air remembered.
Merecot halted in the center of the circle. Turning back to Naelin, she held out her hands and waited for Naelin to pick her way over the slick stone.