She shook her head. “I can’t do it. My children—”
“Don’t block them out,” Ven advised. “Embrace them, and then stretch farther. Pretend you’re listening to them and making charms at the same time. You’ve done that, right?”
That she could do. She was used to splitting her attention between her own tasks and her children. It was how she went about every day. She’d never tried to reach beyond, but she supposed that the champion was right—in theory, it shouldn’t be too different. She stretched her mind, and felt the quivering of nearby spirits. It was so simple and easy that she gasped. I can feel them.
There! A wood spirit, above, skittering along a branch.
To the east, an air spirit flitted through the trees, rustling the leaves, drawing a breeze behind it.
Below, an earth spirit burrowed.
She could feel their size and their mood, the same way she could feel an itch on her arm. It was shockingly easy, a parlor trick, a matter of concentrating on the “crinkling” in the air and bringing it into focus. She wondered, traitorously, why she’d been resisting so hard. If she’d known this . . . If her mother had known, when the spirits came for her . . .
“You’ll practice this every day, until it becomes second nature.”
Naelin nodded. She disliked the way they seemed to crawl on her skin, even though they weren’t nearby, but that was a slight sacrifice for the boon of knowing where they were. She rubbed her arms, feeling the gooseflesh, and pulled her awareness back to their camp.
“With practice, you’ll be able to expand your range,” he said. “A queen is aware of every spirit in her country. She’s granted that awareness in the coronation ceremony. In the ceremony, she links herself to all the spirits in Aratay and can awaken that link whenever she chooses. It helps if you have practice beforehand, so the sensation doesn’t overwhelm you.” Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to say that she was never going to be queen so this was a moot point, but then he said, “Daleina was always skilled at sensing spirits, even before Coronation Day.”
He’d been there, at the massacre, she remembered. She could see the memory of it in the way he looked out at the forest, as if he were seeing that moment and looking at another set of trees. She had the urge to reach out to touch his arm, to comfort him, but she didn’t.
She didn’t argue when he told her to practice more. She kept at it for nearly an hour, until Llor began to clamor that he was hungry and she realized so was she. After breakfast, they continued to travel, and she continued to practice.
Naelin caught the champion shooting her glances every few minutes, as if she were a puzzle that he wanted to solve. If she hadn’t been so busy helping Erian and Llor keep up and “feeling” out the spirits around them, she would have asked him what he found so fascinating. She didn’t consider herself fascinating at all. Don’t read too much into it, she cautioned herself. At some point, he’d realize she was too difficult a student and came with too much baggage, and he’d go find himself a child to train, one who wanted this. Until then, though, she’d absorb any trick that would keep them safe.
And she’d find a way to safely leave.
The next morning, Naelin declared the children had to be washed. She found a stream near their camp, with a willow tree that draped over the water. Every time the wind blew, tendrils of leaves stroked the water, creating ripples that spread toward the pebbled shore. Naelin kept an eye on the ripples, her senses open, watching and listening for spirits. Two were perched in the branches of a tree to the north, and a water spirit lurked around the next bend, catching fish as they swam between the rocks and then bashing them against the closest rock.
Close by her, Llor splashed in the shallows while Erian scrubbed her face. When she finished, she handed the cloth to Llor, who promptly tossed it onto the shore. “Not dirty,” he proclaimed.
“Very dirty,” Naelin informed him. She dunked the cloth into the water, caught his arm, and began to scrub his neck. He twisted and squirmed, kicking at the water until it splashed his sister, who screeched. “No screaming, Erian. You know better than to make loud noises in the forest. And Llor, don’t splash your sister, and don’t fidget. Hold still, and it will be over faster.”
With zero warning, Erian burst into tears. “It’s not my fault! He splashed me.”
“And that’s why I told him no splashing. Erian, we don’t cry about nothing.”
Erian sucked back a sob. Her lower lip quivered. “Father would understand.”
The words felt like a stab. Naelin wanted to say she was sorry, but she wasn’t the one who’d forced her to use her power. She wasn’t the one who’d brought a champion into their home. She wasn’t the one who’d changed their lives. She was trying to do her best . . . She sucked in air and tried to stay calm. It would only escalate things if she showed she was upset too. “Cry if you need to then. I know this is difficult, and I can’t promise it will get easier. I can promise I’ll keep you safe as best as I can.”
“Safe isn’t enough,” Erian sobbed. “I want to go home.”
“I want to go home too,” Llor said, and then he started to cry as well.
Wishing Renet were here to scream at, Naelin opened her arms, and both of them piled onto her, their wet clothes soaking hers as they sobbed onto her shoulders. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She stroked their hair as they cried and felt like crying as well, but she didn’t let herself. She couldn’t afford to break down, not when there was no one here to help put her back together.
She heard a soft clink and looked up. Captain Alet was crouched on one of the rocks. She had her knife drawn and was focused on a shape in the water.
The water spirit.
It was sliding toward them, like a serpent through the ripples.
Leaping from the rock, Alet landed in the water and stabbed her knife down. The spirit squealed, dove under, and sped rapidly away. “You can’t lose focus,” she said, “no matter what else occurs.”
“I never wanted this,” Naelin said. “I wanted an ordinary life: house, husband, children, an honest living. A few herb plants. Neighbors I didn’t hate. A quiet life.”
“We rarely get what we want.”
“What did you want?” Still cradling her children, Naelin watched the guardswoman clean her blade and then splash water on her face and neck. Patches of dirt turned into mud that dripped over her shoulders.
She shrugged. “Not that life. Far too boring.”
“Peaceful isn’t boring.”
“I wanted to matter. For my life to matter. So many people die and no one knows they ever existed. They’re ripples in a stream, disappearing when the wind blows.”