The Queen of Sorrow (The Queens of Renthia #3)

She’s still weak, Merecot thought as she flew toward the palace, flanked by the spirits of Aratay. She could sense the spirits’ curiosity mixed with hostility, and she knew Daleina was prodding and coaxing them to follow her. Even with the power of a queen, though, Daleina didn’t have the kind of control Merecot did. Merecot owned the will of the spirit she rode. If she’d brought her invading army of spirits with her, she could have easily overwhelmed Daleina’s spirits, assuming she didn’t have another irritatingly powerful heir like Naelin up her sleeves.

Merecot circled the palace, looking down on the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions and the Queen’s Tower. This should have been my palace. She’d been born in Aratay and always expected she’d be queen of her homeland. As a child, she’d spent hours imagining herself living in the white trees of the palace, climbing the famous stairs to the Council of Champions, holding the fate of the forests in her hands . . . She remembered playacting with Alet, quietly so their parents wouldn’t hear—both sisters dreaming of a life different from the one they had at home.

In their games, they’d always been the heroes.

And they’d always won.

I’ll win for you, Alet. She was so close now. Just one more hurdle.

Clearly anxious, the spirits of Aratay circled with her, and Merecot wondered if she sensed their own nervousness or Daleina’s.

It has to be one of those, though, because I’m not afraid, Merecot told herself. And I’ll prove it.

As the eagle soared high above the queen of Aratay, Merecot leapt from its back. If you mean peace, Daleina, catch me. If not . . . If not, Merecot could recall her spirit to catch her before she splatted un-royally on the ground or impaled herself on a spire.

This is your test, Daleina. Are we going to fight, or talk?

Wind roared in her ears.

Catch me!

An ermine-like spirit with bat wings caught her and then dumped her onto the balcony. Merecot sprang to her feet as if her entrance had been just as graceful and dramatic as she’d planned. The problem was, she wasn’t certain whether it was her command or Daleina’s that had sent the spirit. Smoothing her skirt, she wished she hadn’t panicked right there at the end. She hoped Daleina hadn’t noticed. Calmly, with as much dignity as she could muster, Merecot said, “You invited me, and I have come.”

“Welcome to Aratay,” Daleina said.

Daleina, somewhat to Merecot’s surprise, looked queenly. She was dressed in a silver gown that pooled around her feet like melted moonlight. Her red, brown, and gold streaked hair was loose, and she wore a circlet of woven ivy. Nice effect, Merecot thought. “Royalty becomes you.”

“Thank you,” Daleina said. “You look well also.”

Okay, so we’re going to be stiff and formal. Too bad I don’t do stiff and formal. “It’s the lack of sleep and the constant stress. Really does wonders on the complexion.”

Daleina didn’t crack a smile. “I hadn’t heard that.”

Both queens stared at each other. “So . . . Ambassador Hanna was worried I’d think this was a trap. Is it?” Merecot asked in a falsely bright voice. “Did you invite me here to kill me?”

No change in expression. “I did not.”

She was certain Daleina didn’t have it in her, but if she did . . . Let me see if I can prod her into revealing anything. “Last time I saw you, you’d had my sister killed. It’s logical to assume I’m next.”

“I think you misremember your history. Your sister was my dear friend,” Daleina said, “and she died in an assassination attempt that you ordered. But is this truly what you wish to discuss? It’s certainly not why I called you here.”

“Invited me,” Merecot corrected.

Daleina inclined her head. “Invited.”

“I’ll bite,” Merecot said. “Why am I here?” She braced herself for a litany of demands. They’d need to negotiate a peace treaty, and Daleina would surely expect to have the upper hand, given that she’d sacrificed her co-queen to aid Semo. It was possible she’d want to reexamine the border between their countries, or set laws in place that would ensure the protection of those borders. Frankly, Merecot didn’t care if—

“I wanted to see if we’re still friends,” Daleina said.

Merecot stared.

She blinked.

She cleaned out one ear.

Then the other, deliberately and sarcastically slowly.

“Really?” Merecot asked.

If her theatrics affected the other queen, Daleina didn’t show it. She just nodded and held out her hand, infuriatingly serene. “Truly. We were friends once, remember? I want to be friends again, somehow, if we can rebuild whatever trust and affection we once had—”

“I can’t decide if you’re na?ve or stupid.”

Daleina’s hand didn’t waver, and she was looking at Merecot as intently as Merecot looked at a spirit she wanted to subdue, as if her eyes could bore directly into her brain. “Maybe both. But either way, for the sake of both of our people, I want your friendship back.”

By the spirits, I think she’s serious. That was . . . unexpected. “So I take your hand, and then what? We swap stories late in the night? Sneak into the palace kitchen for a snack? Giggle? Because I don’t giggle.”

“We secure the safety of both of our peoples.” Hand still out. Eyes still earnest. Still ignoring Merecot’s attempts at humor.

“You’re absurd,” Merecot said.

“Perhaps. But I was once your friend,” Daleina said. “I want to be again.”

Merecot stepped backward, and her back bumped into the rail of the balcony. There had to be a trick here, some kind of ploy to get Merecot to lower her guard. Merecot wasn’t na?ve enough to believe Daleina meant it. Queens didn’t have friendships, least of all with each other. And who talked like this anyway? You didn’t ask someone “be my friend” unless you were six years old. You became friends in a natural progression that didn’t involve grandiose statements on a palace balcony. “That’s . . . nice?”

“Merecot.”

“Daleina?”

Daleina lowered her hand.

“You’re withdrawing the offer of friendship?” Merecot asked.

“I’m resting my arm,” Daleina said. She lifted her hand again, held it out toward Merecot, and waited, a completely placid expression on her face as if she intended to keep this up as long as it took. Maybe she did. Daleina was known to have a stubborn streak.

“I tried to kill you,” Merecot said, trying to shock Daleina out of this exasperating serenity. She didn’t mention she’d come with that purpose again.

“All friendships have bumps.”

Still the hand. Still the stare. It was beginning to get more than a little unsettling. Merecot didn’t like feeling that she wasn’t in control of the conversation.

“I also invaded your country,” Merecot pointed out.

“I am prepared to forgive you.”

“Aha, so you haven’t forgiven me yet! You don’t really trust me. If I said, ‘Yes, let’s be buddies right now,’ you’d have me spied on. You’d wait until I lowered my guard, and then you’d . . . do whatever you plan to do. What do you plan to do, Daleina?” She hadn’t intended to ask her right out, but this conversation wasn’t going the way she’d expected it to anyway. Besides, she preferred being direct.

She just didn’t expect Daleina to be so . . . she couldn’t even come up with a word to describe how Aratay’s queen was acting.

“I plan to protect my people,” Daleina said, “until the day I die, at what will hopefully be a very old age. And I plan to live in peace with my neighbors, from this day forward. We share a common enemy, Merecot. We don’t have to be enemies with each other.”

Merecot felt a twinge of something. Hope, she thought. Or indigestion.

“That common enemy is exactly why I did all I did,” Merecot said. “I want a better life for all Renthians.” She studied Daleina’s hand once more. Over and over in her head, she could hear Jastra’s voice saying, It’s a trick! Except Daleina had never been tricky. Stubborn, yes. Na?ve, yes. Weak, yes. But not sneaky. Despite being the bottom of the class with spirits, Daleina never cheated. She just worked harder. That could be what she’s doing now. Working harder, to become my friend again, for the sake of her people. It was kind of admirable. She must hate me, deep inside. I’d hate me. “What exactly does a friendship between two queens entail? I suppose you’ll want me to swear to never attempt to murder you again.”