Reaching her, Naelin took Merecot’s hands. “All right then. I’ll abdicate first, then you release your spirits, then I claim them.”
Merecot swung Naelin’s arms from side to side, shaking them out. She seemed far more cheerful than was appropriate. “Relax. Worst that can happen is a painful death.”
“And the destruction of both Aratay and Semo, if Daleina can’t control her spirits and you can’t control yours.” Naelin said it calmly, but it was a real possibility. As far as Naelin knew, nothing like this had ever been attempted before. What if Merecot accidentally lost control of all of them? What if Naelin wasn’t able to gain control? No one had ever released a portion of their spirits before, and the Semoian spirits from the untamed lands were far wilder than any Naelin had ever encountered. All of this has the potential to go horribly, terribly wrong. And her husband was just outside the grove, alone and exposed.
Grinning, Merecot nodded. “End-of-the-world stakes. Yay! You go first.”
“For the record, I don’t like you, but I trust that you want to be a good queen and that you have the best interests of your people at heart.”
“For the record, I don’t care, and you can trust that I want to be a great queen.”
Closing her eyes, Naelin concentrated. She felt for her connection to the spirits of Aratay, and to her surprise she also “saw” the connection of the spirits of Semo to Merecot. As if she were snipping threads on embroidery, she severed the threads connecting her to her spirits, careful not to touch any of the threads leading to Merecot, though she felt as if she could have. All the threads lay before her. I release you. I abdicate. I am not your queen.
Not your queen.
She heard them echo her, distantly: Not our queen.
Not ours.
Not ours.
Not.
And Naelin swayed, feeling suddenly weak, as if she were a water bucket that had been drained—the sense of the spirits of Aratay were gone, to be replaced by an awareness of the spirits of Semo: coming toward the stone grove, hating her, hating their queen, determined to destroy them both.
Or at least Naelin.
Merecot knew she could kill her.
Right now.
Easy.
She wouldn’t even have to shed a drop of blood herself. Just call on one of the earth spirits to suck Naelin down into the stone, or one of the air spirits to raise her up and drop her. She had full control over every spirit in Semo, and all of Naelin’s strength couldn’t compare to that.
The instant that Naelin released the spirits of Aratay, Naelin staggered back, losing her grip on Merecot’s hands, and Merecot let her fall backward. The older queen slipped on the slick rock ground and sprawled out at Merecot’s feet.
For that moment, Merecot looked down at Naelin and contemplated murder.
It was the original plan: kill the queens and seize the power. Queen Jastra would have been whispering at her to do it. The old queen had sworn an opportunity would present itself once the wolf protector was removed.
This is an opportunity, but I’ve a far better plan, Merecot thought. Don’t kill Naelin. Let her take the wild spirits and go, and then visit Daleina with hands and conscience both clean—and at full strength, without the distraction of the excess spirits. If Merecot were innocent of regicide, then Daleina might welcome her old friend with open arms.
And then, maybe, I have a chance to fulfill my destiny.
Kill Daleina first, take control of Aratay, and then use the combined strength of both Aratay and Semo to squash Naelin with her paltry number of excess spirits.
But first, Naelin had to live now, so she could die later.
Reaching down, she helped Naelin back onto her feet. “Ready?”
Naelin took a deep breath, and Merecot saw her brace herself. Good. “Better be,” Merecot told her. “The spirits who aren’t linked to the land are very strong.”
“So am I,” Naelin said grimly.
Merecot could admire that. Concentrating, she reached out—the spirits of Semo had already sensed that something was happening in the stone grove and were hurling themselves there as fast as they could. The wind was whipping around the grove hard, slapping at Merecot and Naelin, and the ground began to quiver under their feet.
She felt for the wild ones, the ones who weren’t sunk deep into the soil of Semo, the ones who wanted to fight and wanted to flee and wanted to tear apart the world she was trying to hold together. Grabbing ahold of the invisible connection that bound her to them, she imagined she was coiling those lines around her hand, tightening them into a single rope.
And then she cut the rope.
Naelin felt the spirits of Semo scream—the wild ones broke free, while the others strained at their bonds. I could take them all, she thought. At this moment, Merecot was weak. If Naelin pushed her mind into the swirling chaos, she might be able to wrest control of all of them, the ones from the untamed lands and the ones native to Semo, away from Merecot. Within the grove, she could feel the threads of their connection.
I could ensure she never invades again.
I could protect Queen Daleina and all my people from her and her ambition.
Maybe. If Merecot didn’t stop her. If the spirits didn’t fight back. If Naelin even wanted this. I . . .
I want Erian and Llor.
She plunged her mind into the maelstrom of spirits.
Choose me, she told the wild spirits. I will be your queen now. Choose me. Now!
Her thoughts, her emotions, her will was battered by the howling of the spirits. They wanted to rip, destroy, break, kill. She heard a rumbling around her, and the earth bucked beneath her feet. Naelin slammed down hard on her knees. Pain shot up through her legs, but she barely felt it. It was buried in the pain all around her as the spirits’ minds tore at hers.
She felt herself scream, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. It was swallowed by the shrieks and cries. Her muscles felt as if they were being ripped apart, her bones felt as if they were cracking within her body, and her mind splintered.
And then she saw herself, from the outside, as if through a hundred eyes at once, multiplied and distorted. Her vision of her body twisted, as if she were being wrung like a rag, shaken and ripped into a million pieces.
She fought to pull herself back together, and it was like gathering sand in her arms. But she wasn’t lying to Merecot when she said she was strong.
She was.
You are mine, she told the spirits. I am yours.
I will take you home.
A pause.
She felt her body fall forward, hard, on the ground, and she was whole again, for a moment. And then the spirits were inside her, ripping through her thoughts, holding up her memories and shattering them into fragments as if they were made of glass.
She saw herself, a child, the night her parents died.
Saw them again. Heard them scream.
Saw Renet, the moment she met him. Kissed him. Married him.
Erian, born squalling, and then suckling at her breast, living, breathing, growing, and then Llor, his tiny face screwed up in a scream. And then they grew, running into the house and throwing their arms around her, laughing and chattering.
The spirits tore through her memories until they found the moment she’d lost Erian and Llor, when they were taken from her. And then she saw the moment she found them again, when they ran into her arms with tears on their cheeks. They paused, expectant, and at first Naelin was confused.
And then she understood.
I will hold you, she told the spirits, like I held them. In my heart.
Take us, the spirits said.
And she did.
In the empty courtyard, Hanna felt the moment that control of the spirits shifted. It was a few stray seconds. Alone, she rolled across the courtyard to look out between the arches toward the mountains in the west.
She saw a peak crumble.
And then she saw a new mountain rise in its place.
Good, she thought. Very good. If I’ve done nothing else in my life, I have done this. Saved a kingdom. Saved a queen. This could have been an ending. But it’s a new beginning.
Chapter 23