Dropping back into her chair, Merecot slammed her palms on the table, knocking her spoon to the floor. “By the spirits, you are so sanctimonious! You think you’re better than me, that your purpose is more noble than mine. And what is this grand purpose of yours? To survive? To eke out another day for the people of Renthia? Another day where they all live in fear, never knowing if it’s their last day, never knowing if they’re going to be torn to bits while their family watches, helpless. It’s a pathetic life you want for our people. I want more! I want an end to fear! I want the world to be the way it should be, for our people to live their lives as they choose, to trust that they will have a future to live.”
Daleina had never seen Merecot so serious or so passionate. She stopped scrubbing the spilled wine. “Merecot, what are you saying?”
Lowering her voice to a whisper, Merecot leaned down and said, “I want to destroy the spirits. All of them. And I know how to do it.”
Merecot spread her napkin over the wine stain on the carpet. Clutching one already-stained napkin as if it were a security blanket, Daleina was staring at her with a shocked expression. Merecot resisted rolling her eyes. You’d think after being queen, she’d have learned to hide her emotions. She’d expected her words to have an impressive effect, but Daleina was silent. A queen shouldn’t ever be struck dumb.
That said, it had been a dramatic statement. One she hadn’t planned to share before coming here. And as expressive as Daleina’s face was, Merecot still wished she could read her thoughts. “Come on, Daleina. Look lively. You have to admit it has appeal.”
“You can’t destroy them,” Daleina sputtered. “Destroying the sprits would destroy Renthia.”
“I can prevent that.”
“You can’t!” She was shaking her head. “The land will die. You’ve seen the barren areas in Aratay—you caused plenty of them. You’d turn all of Renthia into a wasteland.”
“Don’t be silly, Daleina. You think I’d suggest this if I hadn’t thought it through?” No one else had enough power to conceive of the possibilities. But she knew it was possible. And so had Jastra. If she could make Daleina see even a hint of the beautiful future Merecot could imagine . . . Then maybe I won’t have to kill her. Please, Daleina, be willing to listen! “You want to save people, right? That’s your thing.”
“I . . .” Daleina stopped, studying her. “Yes?”
“You’re a hero.” Surprisingly difficult to say that without sounding sarcastic, Merecot thought. But she meant it. Daleina was a hero, like out of one of those piercing canopy-singer ballads, annoyingly consistently noble.
“I just want to keep people safe.”
Merecot believed her. That had always been true. I was a fool to not take it into account. She blamed Jastra—the older queen had been convinced that none of the other queens would understand, that they all valued their power too much, and that they’d be unwilling to give it up even for the good of the world. But Daleina . . . she was honorable and self-sacrificing and all the goody-goody characteristics that made a person heroic.
“I’m sorry I tried to have you killed,” Merecot said.
She meant it. She should have talked to Daleina. Not about the excess spirits, but about all of it. Daleina was just heroic enough to agree.
And if she says no, killing her is still on the table.
Jastra would have loved that.
Merecot wasn’t worried about the guards that she knew were posted outside the door. If she killed Daleina, she’d do it fast this time, and no one would dare attack her after—with Queen Naelin gone and no heir available, they’d need her to stop the spirits of Aratay from killing everyone. She would be the only one in all of Aratay with the power to seize the crown.
I can’t lose. Either way, yes or no, I move forward.
But if Daleina says yes . . . It would be nice if I could avoid murdering the one person alive in the world who ever wanted to be my friend.
Not essential . . . but nice.
It occurred to her that Daleina hadn’t responded to her apology. “I don’t want to kill you anymore,” Merecot pushed.
“Happy to hear that,” Daleina said, no emotion in her voice.
I can’t quite blame her for not believing that. Merecot smirked, then sobered. “So we’re clear, I will if I have to. But you’re wrong about why. I don’t want to be queen of the world because of the power. I want it because it’s my destiny, because I am the strongest queen who has ever lived, and that means I am the one who can save Renthia. I can destroy the spirits once and for all.” She gripped the table as she stood. “You invited me here to see what I have up my sleeve. This is it. I want to save the world. The question is:
“Will you save it with me?”
Daleina folded the napkin she’d been clutching, laid it on the table, and excused herself. I’m not fleeing, she told herself. I’m taking a moment to gain perspective.
Just keep telling yourself that.
She heard Merecot call after her, “I’m telling the truth! We have the same purpose. My vision is just grander than yours, because I’m more powerful. I’ve always been more powerful. That’s why I’m the only one who can do this, and that’s why you need to abdicate and let me do what I’m destined to do!”
Daleina stepped through the door to the side of the chamber, between the tapestries, and shut it behind her. “Is she telling the truth?” she asked Garnah.
Garnah barked a laugh. “She thinks she is.”
Daleina began to pace, trying to sort out her thoughts and separate reason from wild hope. “I’ve never heard Merecot talk like this. She seems to believe everything she’s saying.”
“And why shouldn’t she? Yet ask yourself this: Does it make it true? Do you believe she knows how to destroy the spirits? It would be an impressive feat that no queen has achieved in the history of Renthia.” She looked at Daleina shrewdly. “But you didn’t come out here to ask for my opinion.”
“You’re right.” Daleina knew her own past experience with Merecot was coloring her impression of her words. She wanted to believe that Merecot spoke the truth. If she truly had a way to destroy the spirits, it would explain so much of what Merecot had done. And it would be incredible. Life-changing for everyone. An end to the pain, the death, the fear! Peace, like no one in Renthia has ever known! It seemed to be both too much to hope for and everything she’d ever dreamed of. “I want you to talk to her. Pretend to be a servant sent to clean up the wine spill and distract her. See what she reveals to you.”
Perhaps surprisingly, Garnah once again didn’t argue, let alone bristle at being asked to be a servant. Daleina didn’t have time to worry about that, though, as the poison master bustled through the door to distract Merecot. While that was happening, Daleina reached out to brush the minds of the spirits in Mittriel and outside the city. There were hundreds, under the earth, in the trees, in the air, small and large, burrowing and flying and slithering and crawling, breathing life into the land and then choking it.
One by one, Daleina sent them away from Mittriel. She drew them out of the city, sending them toward the empty swaths of forest where there were few if any to harm. She persuaded the Aratayian spirits who surrounded Merecot’s eagle spirit from Semo to bring that spirit with them, and they were only too happy to oblige.
In short order, the capital city was empty of all spirits.
Fires fizzled, though they didn’t die. The breeze slowed until there was stillness in the air. If anyone had measured such a thing, they would have seen that the plants were growing slower, and that the water in the streams far below had slowed to a trickle. The spirits weren’t dead, merely absent, and it would only be for a time.
Just long enough for Daleina to convince Merecot to tell her her whole plan, without a single spirit overhearing.
Merecot paced as an old servant woman bustled into the room and began sprinkling a powder on the wine stain. I shouldn’t have spoken, Merecot thought. I scared her off. Daleina won’t understand. She can’t comprehend having the kind of power to do what needs to be done. Daleina didn’t know what it was like to have complete control over thousands of spirits, to hold their minds inside hers and know she could snuff them out in a moment. It can be done! I only need to be a little stronger . . .
If Merecot could hold both Semo and Aratay, she should be strong enough.
And then once the other countries saw her success, they’d agree to let her save them as well. All she needed to do was get Daleina to abdicate.