Even though she knew it was coming, Daleina felt the recoil as if it were a punch. She slammed backward in her throne, her head smacking against the wood. She heard cries around her but didn’t have time to reassure her chancellors.
Plunging into the minds of her spirits, she spread her will through them. Calm. I am here. You are not alone. I have not abandoned you. Cling to me.
And to her surprise, they clung.
She felt their relief like a waterfall, all their feelings rushing through her, but primarily pure relief as they were released from the conflicting tug of two queens. Daleina swaddled them in her hope and her strength.
And for the first time she realized she didn’t hate the spirits. Not anymore. Everything she’d told Naelin was true: you couldn’t hate them. You had to accept them, even love them. They were a part of the world, and alongside their hatred and rage, there was also beauty and the desire for life to thrive. She fed them all of her wishes and hopes and dreams for a peaceful future, and they, bereft from Naelin’s abdication, lapped it up as if her thoughts were water down their thirsty throats.
Daleina opened her eyes. “She did it.” Straightening in her throne, she smiled at her chancellors, feeling stronger than she had in weeks, even months. “All right, tell me everything that needs fixing. It’s time to heal Aratay.”
Her chancellors took her at her word, and the meeting stretched late into the night. It ended only when her seneschal insisted and shooed the chancellors out of the Sunrise Room. He scolded her about not sending them away sooner, taking on too much, and not taking care of herself. She smiled at him and laughed lightly. “Why do I have to take care of myself when I have you to take care of me for me, Belsowik?”
“You’re giddy with lack of sleep, Your Majesty.” He helped her off the throne. Her legs felt stiff from sitting so long, and her back ached, but she still felt better than she had this morning. It was as if the spirits were strengthening her.
“Do you know where I can find Healer Hamon?”
“I’ll have him summoned to you,” the seneschal said.
She waved off that suggestion. “No need to interrupt his work. I can go to him. Can you find out where he is?”
“I believe he’s with his mother.” The disapproval was thick in his voice. The seneschal could see through Poison-Master Garnah’s bright cheeriness, and despite her work in saving Daleina from the poison, he obviously did not like her. Not much escaped the seneschal’s notice, Daleina had discovered. Good judge of character. Hope he likes me.
“How do you even know that?” she asked. “Do you keep tabs on everyone I care about?”
He answered seriously. “Yes.”
Daleina walked through the palace in such a good mood that she wanted to skip, but decided it wouldn’t be majestic enough. She contented herself with smiling at everyone and was rewarded with smiles, bows, and good wishes. At the door to Garnah’s rooms, she let her guard knock and announce her.
“Oh, how deliciously delightful!” Garnah said from within.
Daleina thanked her guard and entered. Lounging on a couch, Garnah was strumming on a small harp, badly, and Hamon was peering at a collection of tubes and beakers across the room. He straightened when she came into the room. “Your Majesty!”
“You seriously call her that?” Garnah asked him.
“She’s the queen. She’s owed respect.”
“You call her that while you’re, you know, with her?”
Daleina felt herself blush.
“Mother!” To Daleina, he said, “Forgive her. She suffers from a medical condition known as Horrible Personality.”
Garnah laughed. “That was very nearly witty. I’m proud of you, my boy.”
For Hamon’s sake, Daleina tried not to smile. She knew how much of a nightmare Garnah was as a mother—she couldn’t imagine the horror of growing up under the power of someone like Garnah—but the woman did have a sense of humor that Daleina found refreshing after dealing with dour chancellors and dramatic champions.
Concern in his eyes, Hamon crossed to Daleina. “Is everything all right?”
“Good news, for a change.” Daleina beamed at him. “The plan worked.”
“Yay!” Garnah cried. “The queen is dead!”
“She’s not dead. I said good news. She abdicated control of the spirits of Aratay and assumed responsibility for the excess spirits of Semo . . .” She trailed off. At least, she was mostly sure that that’s what had happened. Her sense of spirits did not extend beyond the border, but she would have felt if Naelin had died, wouldn’t she have? “At least, that was the plan, and the first half went well, so I’m going to assume the second half did as well.”
“Yay?” Garnah said. “The queen might not have died?”
“Hopefully no one died,” Daleina said. “The only thing I’m certain of is that I’m the only queen of Aratay again.”
“Without an heir,” Garnah said.
“Mother. You aren’t helping.” Coming over to Daleina, Hamon put his arm around her. “It’s entirely possible everything will turn out fine.”
There would be issues when Naelin returned and tied her spirits to the barren areas—they’d have to figure out how the borders would work, whether Naelin would rule a separate country within Daleina’s. But Daleina had confidence they could figure all of that out.
Garnah smiled brightly at them both. “In the meantime . . . I was just telling Hamon here how much I would really like grandchildren. I think you should name one after me.”
This time she couldn’t help it: Daleina laughed out loud.
Sneaking away from home and traveling north alone was not the best decision that Arin had ever made, but Queen Naelin and Champion Ven hadn’t left her much choice. She’d packed what she’d been able to scrounge from her parents’ kitchen: several loaves of bread and a cake, but she hadn’t eaten meat in days.
On the plus side, nothing had eaten her.
Probably because I smell bad enough to churn any predator’s stomach.
She hadn’t dared descend to the forest floor to wash in any of the streams. The safest route was midforest, so that’s what she’d stuck to. Now, only a few miles from the border, she wished she’d braved a stream. The border guards are going to get one sniff of me and say, “We don’t want your stench in Semo.”
For the past several miles, she had been trying to think of what to say to get past the border guards. Queen Naelin had been invited. Me . . . not so much.
If only they hadn’t left her behind, this would have all been much easier.
And I’d be able to protect Queen Naelin, like I promised I would. It had been obvious to everyone that the queen and Champion Ven were waltzing into a trap, and it was obvious to Arin that she could help. But I can’t if I’m not there!
She reached the end of a rope bridge and plopped down on the platform to rest. Above her, she heard the sweet birdlike song of a canopy singer—a wordless melody. Leaning her head back against the trunk, Arin listened as the gentle music drew closer.
And then it cut off abruptly.
She sat up straight. Had the singer fallen? Been attacked by spirits? Arin scanned the nearby branches for any movement, but saw nothing.
“Hello, young traveler!”
Arin yelped as a woman swung in front of her—she was upside down, dangling with her knees around a skinny branch. Her frizzy hair puffed down in a cloud beneath her head, and she was smiling happily, as if finding Arin had made her day.
“Um, hello.” Arin bent her head to the side, trying to see the woman right side up.
“It’s unusual for people as young as you to travel so close to the border by themselves. But I’m not going to ask if you’re lost, because I can tell you’re not.”