Launching himself forward, Llor threw his arms around Bayn’s neck. “Come with us! Please! We love you! You’re our friend!”
The wolf lowered his head, cheek pressing against the boy’s cheek. Naelin surged forward and then stopped—the spirits, her spirits, were howling in her head. She grabbed on to Ven’s arm as their pain shot through her and her knees buckled under her.
“Mama!” she heard Erian, distant.
Her vision swam, and instead she saw through a hundred eyes as the untamed spirits tore into her spirits. “Ven, they’re attacking!”
She felt him twist from her, his sword raised, looking toward the sky.
“They’re attacking my spirits!” And she threw her mind into theirs, strengthening them, fighting with them as thousands of untamed spirits converged, united by a single thought so loud that she could feel it reverberating across the untamed lands:
Destroy!
Chapter 31
Daleina listened to the spirits’ story, of the Great Mother who died and, with her, the intended destiny of spirits, humans, and the world. She saw it all unfold around her as the spirits flooded her mind with images and their sorrow and anger at the loss that had happened so very long ago. When the spirits withdrew, she was left gasping, her cheeks wet with tears, and her throat raw, though she hadn’t felt as if she’d been screaming.
“Intense, isn’t it?” Merecot hadn’t moved from her chair across the dinner table in the center of Daleina’s outer chamber.
Gripping the arms of her chair, Daleina forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly until the room around her quit wobbling. “How many queens do you think have heard that?
Merecot shrugged. “How many queens do you think would ask? Or listen?”
She was right. Certainly Daleina had never asked them before.
In a quiet voice, with a hint of awe, Merecot said, “The spirits are the ‘builders’ of the world, and their work was interrupted before anyone could say, ‘You’re done.’ Someone needs to tell them ‘You’re done,’ and then all of this will stop. The killing. The hatred. The anger. The fear.”
Standing, she crossed to the window and looked at the twinkle of lights cradled in the branches of the trees of Mittriel. She tried to imagine what life would be like if people didn’t have to fear the spirits. She thought again of Greytree and her childhood friends, of her classmates who had died in the grove, of Queen Fara, and of Naelin, who’d never wanted to be queen. “You believe you’re strong enough?”
“I am the strongest queen who has ever lived.” Matter-of-fact.
“Naelin’s strong too,” Daleina pointed out. “Why couldn’t she have done this? Or any of the queens who came before? Fara was strong. Countless others have been strong. And yet no one has ever succeeded in stopping the spirits altogether.”
“We’ve always been separated into different countries. Just weak enough that we’d never think to try this. But if I controlled both Semo and Aratay . . . I can do this, Daleina. I know I can. It’s what I was meant to do!”
I believe her, Daleina thought.
She couldn’t pass up this chance to save the world. It would be the culmination of everything she and every queen before her had ever strived for, the fulfillment of every dream of peace. It was more than she’d dared hoped to ever achieve.
Daleina looked out again at her capital city, full of men, women, and children with hopes, fears, and dreams. Given this chance . . . how can I refuse to even try, for their sakes?
But she’d need to be certain her people would be safe, if she and Merecot failed. She’d need to ensure the champions and their candidates were prepared to protect Aratay, and she’d need a way to wrest power back from Merecot, if it proved necessary. She’d talk to the Council of Champions about the first. And she’d talk to Garnah about the second. “I will speak with the champions at dawn.”
Merecot rose too. “Daleina . . .”
“Finish your meal and sleep well.”
“And tomorrow? Will you help me change the world?”
Daleina hesitated, wondering if she should say the truth: Yes, she would help her, but if Merecot failed, if anything went wrong, if the people of Aratay were put in any danger . . . I’ll have to do what Merecot said she would do to me.
I’ll have to kill her.
But Daleina didn’t say that. Instead, she smiled and said, “Yes, Merecot. I will.”
Merecot abandoned any pretense of eating and instead paced back and forth, across Daleina’s chamber, out onto the balcony, back inside. She felt the spirits far in the distance, like an itch in her head, but she didn’t try to draw them back. It was too sensitive a time.
She believes me, Merecot thought.
And then: She believes in me.
It was extraordinary.
And to think I tried to have her killed.
She’d never regretted anything so badly in her life. Actually, she didn’t think she’d regretted anything in her life, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d underestimated Daleina—or at least she thought she did. It all depended on whether Daleina went through with it and actually abdicated in favor of Merecot. She could still chicken out. I might still need to kill her.
And now that thought made her sick.
Her hands felt sweaty, and she wiped her palms on the skirt of her gown as she paced. If she’d had her spirits, she would have called them to listen in on the council with the champions. They weren’t going to like this. Not one bit. If they talked Daleina out of it . . .
“You’ll still have to kill her, if things go sour,” the poisoner woman—Poison-Master Garnah—said, coming into the room. It was as if she knew Merecot’s thoughts, and that made the queen angry. If Garnah noticed, she didn’t let on, instead continuing, “Or try to. We won’t let you, of course. It will be a whole messy thing with plenty of collateral damage, but that doesn’t concern you, does it?”
“For a spy, you aren’t very stealthy,” Merecot observed. “This is the second conversation we’ve had. Isn’t that breaking spy protocol?” Daleina must have spoken to her when she left. She wished she’d thought to eavesdrop.
“I’m a terrible spy,” Garnah agreed, “but a formidable enemy. You don’t want me for yours.”
“I’m not already?” Merecot studied the other woman, careful to keep a distance between them and at least one bulky item of furniture. She didn’t come as far as she had by being careless, and now would be a terrible time to drop her guard, when she was on the verge of achieving everything she ever wanted.
“Of course not! I think you’re delightful.” Garnah beamed at her. “I just want to make sure we’re clear: I will be accompanying you into the grove, with Queen Daleina’s blessing. Don’t tell me it’s not done. I excel at things that aren’t done, as do you. Besides, the spirits of Aratay are used to crowds of heirs in their grove—they won’t mind one silly old woman.”
“You’re no match for angry spirits,” Merecot said.
Garnah’s smile widened until she was baring all her teeth. “Hah! We’ll see tomorrow, won’t we?”
Daleina saw three possible outcomes:
One was success. She didn’t need to plan for that.
Another was betrayal. She’d spoken with Garnah after leaving Merecot—the Queen’s Poisoner would accompany them into the grove, bringing her various potions. At the first sign of deceit, she’d use them on Merecot.
And third was failure. The spirits could kill both queens, leaving Aratay queen-less at a time when the country lacked heirs.