Striding through the palace, Daleina asked Belsowik to summon the champions to the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions at dawn. She then shut herself in her chambers and began composing letters.
First, she wrote to the headmistresses of every academy in Aratay, advising them to instruct their teachers and students to be prepared to issue the “choose” command at midday, should the worst-case scenario occur. Then she wrote to Hanna, laying bare Merecot’s plan and requesting that Hanna select one of the Semoian heirs—if she and Merecot both died, then the headmistresses and their students could suspend the spirits with the “choose” command until Hanna arrived with an heir. She sent the message with her fastest spirit, directly to the mountain castle.
It would be the champions’ job to prevent casualties until the command took effect. If all girls and women with power are standing ready . . . and if the champions are prepared . . . then it shouldn’t be like it was when Queen Fara died. Her death took Aratay by surprise. I won’t let that happen again.
At the first light of dawn, she climbed the stairs to the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions. She hadn’t slept, of course. Instead she’d spent the night replaying the spirits’ story in her mind, and trying to think of anything else to prepare. Now she felt calm.
Stiff back and folded hands, she sat motionless on the white wood throne to wait for her champions. The air was still, and the autumn leaves looked gilded against the arches. They’re not going to like this, she thought, but they had to be warned. If things went badly . . . I need them ready to defend Aratay.
Last time a queen died, there was chaos, and many innocents died. With an abdication, it should be a smooth transfer of power. But I’m not preparing for best case; I’m preparing for worst.
The champions filed in and took their seats.
Too many chairs were empty. She let her eyes linger on them, and she thought of Champion Ambir, Champion Piriandra . . . Her eyes landed on Champion Ven’s chair. For all she knew, he was dead now as well, killed as soon as he entered the untamed lands. It was too much to hope for that he and Queen Naelin had survived.
I’m alone, she thought.
Except that even as she thought this, she knew she wasn’t. She had Hamon, and her beloved seneschal, Belsowik, was as devoted as always. Even the champions were now on her side. Since she’d repelled the invasion, there had been no more talk about her being unsuited to rule. She was now their beloved queen.
Daleina drummed her fingers on the armrest of her throne and then stopped herself. She wanted to appear calm and in control, not like the nervous mess she felt inside. We’ll see how “beloved” I am after this. Raising her voice, she said, “Welcome, my champions. I will ask you to hear me out before you begin your objections. I also ask you to recognize that I am aware there is significant risk. But the reward to us, to all of Renthia, is, I believe, worth the risk. I hope you will agree with me.”
Straightening in their seats, the champions listened.
And then, of course, they objected.
But at last the talk shifted: if she was to attempt this, how could they best protect the people? Their candidates would be ready to issue the “choose” command, in concert with all the girls and women in the academies, and the champions would be prepared to lead Aratay’s soldiers to defend the people until that command took effect. Daleina would also send the spirits to the least populated areas of Aratay in advance, to buy them all extra time.
By midday, they had a plan for how to disperse the spirits and how to deploy the champions, guards, and soldiers that Daleina was happy with.
Or not precisely “happy” with. If we need this plan . . . I’ll be dead.
Daleina did not dress for death. She knew the odds of her surviving abdication and knew that her survival would depend on how well Merecot controlled the spirits and how much she cared about protecting her old friend. Given their history . . . Daleina knew she couldn’t depend on her. Still, she dressed as a queen prepared for a ceremony, with layers of silk that fluttered behind her like wings and a silver crown shaped like tiny flowers.
While she prepared, she felt Hamon watching her. He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it, which surprised her. Nor had he said anything at all. He’d only watched her, as if he were trying to memorize her every move. It was hard to stay optimistic when he was looking at her like that. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“I’m not saying goodbye,” he said.
“Good. Because this isn’t goodbye.”
“It’s not,” he agreed. “I’m coming with you.”
Sweet but impractical. “You aren’t. This is between Merecot and me.”
“And all of Aratay,” Hamon said. “But all of Aratay can’t fit into the grove, so you’ll need to be content with me and my mother.”
“You know I asked your mother to come?”
“She told me.”
“And you aren’t going to try to talk me out of it?”
“She can defend you. And I can heal you, if need be. I’d insist on all the champions too, but you already sent them out across Aratay.” He said this as if it were a gross miscalculation, rather than a thoroughly discussed decision.
“The people need to be defended, in case anything goes wrong,” Daleina said. “I’ve deployed all the champions, as well as the city guards, to protect the innocent.”
“You need to be defended, in case anything goes wrong.” He was standing, and she’d never seen such a fierce look in his eyes. “Let me help. Please, Daleina.”
She thought for a moment about ordering him to stay behind. She could do it. She may have sent the spirits deep into the forest, as far from the bulk of the population of Aratay as possible, but she still had command of all the palace guards.
But did she really want to?
No, I don’t.
“All right,” Daleina said.
Hamon blinked. “Did you just agree? I’d prepared a list of points as to why including me makes sense.”
Daleina held up her hand. “I don’t need to hear it. But I do want to know, outside of your worries for me, if you think this is a mistake. Do you think Merecot’s plan will work?” Please say yes. She’d wrung agreement from all the champions, and had even received a letter, via spirit, from Ambassador Hanna, but still, she wanted to hear it from Hamon’s lips.
Hamon opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again to say slowly, “It sounds possible. But no one has ever tried before. At least, not that I know of.”
“Which is something I keep wondering: Why hasn’t anyone ever tried this? Spirits have plagued Renthians for generations. Surely someone at some point must have had this idea,” Daleina said. “Has there never been a queen like Merecot before?” She’d heard of plenty of powerful queens in the history books and songs, and she’d felt the incredible reach of Naelin’s power. She found it hard to believe there hadn’t been others equal to Merecot.
Hamon took her hands and raised them to her lips. “Of course there have been powerful queens before, happy to seize whatever power they could in the name of protecting their people.”
He means Fara, Daleina thought.
“But as I understand it, for this to work it requires more than one powerful queen. It requires two: one to take power and one to give it. If this is to succeed, it won’t be because there’s never been another queen like Merecot. It will be because there’s never been a queen like you.”
Chapter 32
Daleina hadn’t been back to the Queen’s Grove since the day she was crowned and buried her friends. She hadn’t wanted to ever see the place again. Every step into the grove came with another memory, and when she saw that even in autumn, the ground was still blanketed in green with white flowers, the tiny blossoms looking like freshly fallen snowflakes, she wanted to turn and run.
But Daleina didn’t run away. She never did.
She walked to the center of the grove, between the graves, and faced Merecot.