“Oh, Mama, it’s beautiful!” Erian gasped.
She was right: the white trees of the palace shone as delicate and ethereal as the moon. Their branches entwined, creating a lacework of smooth limbs that spread into a thin canopy of golden leaves. Six spires rose above the canopy, capped in arches. One, an observation deck known as the Queen’s Tower, rose highest from the center. Another, which held the famous Chamber of Champions, bowed off to the side. Others were said to hold various throne rooms and bedchambers, each more ornate than the last. Elegant stairs wound around the trunks, and balconies adorned the higher reaches. Naelin wanted to scoop up her children and run home, to their drab, snug hut.
“Are we going to live there?” Erian asked.
“What? No. Of course not. That’s the palace.” She’d been foolish to think she’d have an audience with the queen herself, to think Her Majesty would care about one woodswoman’s family.
“But you said the queen would protect us,” Llor piped up. “I heard you! I listen!”
Erian’s eyes were round. “Are we going to meet the queen?”
Before, she would have said yes. She’d had every intention of marching into the palace and demanding . . . Oh, it all sounded so ridiculous now. Who was she to demand anything of the queen? I’m no one, nothing, not even a properly trained hedgewitch. Just a woodswoman whose skills did not apply in a place like this. She was no one, and while her children meant the world to her, the queen was responsible for all the children in all of Aratay. There was no reason for her to take any special interest in Naelin’s. Most likely, Naelin would never see her, even from a distance. And that’s fine. I don’t know what to say to a queen. “You’ll stay with me, wherever I go. If it’s to meet the queen, we meet the queen. If it’s to meet the fourth assistant pig keeper, we meet the fourth assistant pig keeper.”
“Why do they have four pig keepers?” Llor asked. “Do they have that many pigs?”
“It’s the palace,” Erian said. “They probably have hundreds of pigs!”
“Thousands?” Llor asked.
“Hundreds of thousands,” Erian said, with full confidence, and then she amended, “Or they could, you know, if the queen wanted, which she probably doesn’t, because they’re pigs. And she probably wouldn’t keep them in the palace anyway, because it’s fancy.”
“Pigs aren’t fancy,” Llor said wisely.
“Do these kinds of conversations happen often with you?” Ven asked Naelin.
Naelin smiled, feeling better. “When you have children, you find yourself uttering sentences you’ve never imagined anyone would need to say, such as ‘You can’t go to school naked’ and ‘Please don’t put a chipmunk in your father’s shoes.’” Her smile faded at the memory of that—it had been a funny moment. She and Renet had laughed for a week—Renet kept walking around with one shoe on asking where he could find his other chipmunk. They’d had good moments. Why did he have to ruin it all? She poked at that sadness, wondering if she missed him or just missed what could have been.
“You won’t be meeting the queen yet,” Ven said, interrupting her thoughts. “She will let us know when she’s ready to approve the candidates.
Naelin refused to think about the word “yet.” It was far more likely that she’d never be allowed near the queen. The queen of Aratay had far more important people to meet than an ordinary woodswoman.
“Until then, we’re going to Northeast Academy.”
“Ooh, Headmistress Hanna?” Erian jumped up and down. Naelin felt the same way—she’d heard stories about the famous headmistress. She expected her to be at least nine feet tall and glowing like the moon.
“Yes,” he told Erian. “Alet, will you guide them there? I need to go ahead to let the headmistress know to expect you.”
“Of course,” Alet said.
Naelin tamped down an impulse to grab his arm and say don’t leave. She wasn’t a child, and she trusted Alet to shepherd them through the city. Still . . . she’d gotten used to traveling with him.
“She’ll judge if you’re ready,” Ven said to Naelin. Without waiting for a response, he sprinted ahead, weaving through the crowds as if they were obstacles in a race.
That sounded every bit as stressful as meeting the queen. Watching him leave and wishing he’d stayed, Naelin murmured, “I’m not ready. What do I say to Headmistress Hanna? She faced the spirits at the Massacre of the Oaks. She’s trained two queens.”
“You managed to charm Champion Ven,” Alet said. “You’ll be fine.”
Naelin nearly stopped walking. As it was, she caught her foot on Llor’s and stumbled against Erian. Erian squawked, and Naelin had to spend several seconds checking to be sure everyone was all right—they were—before she asked, “Exactly what do you mean by that?” She thought her voice sounded steady, normal, but she couldn’t help the way her heart began to thump harder.
Erian answered instead of Alet. “He admires you. It’s obvious, Mama. And I like him too. He scowls a lot, but he doesn’t mean it.” For a second, Naelin let herself sink into that thought—her children liked him, and he was kind to them. Gentle, even.
Naelin glanced at Alet, who nodded, an amused smirk on her face. “He’s not used to people standing up to him.” Alet shrugged. “You’ve impressed him.”
She hadn’t wanted to impress him, much less charm anyone. Except . . . No. “Right. Well, I’m not looking for admiration, especially if you’re implying the kind of admiration I think you’re implying.” She thought of his pale-blue eyes, always studying her. She’d assumed he was assessing her as a potential heir, not as . . . Never mind. It was ridiculous to be having these thoughts while she was on her way to meet a living legend. Alet was teasing her. And I’m being silly, indulging in fantasies. “Ridiculous.”
“You left your husband, spoken and witnessed,” Alet pointed out. “Do you plan on returning to him?” Striding purposefully forward, Alet parted the crowd. Naelin, Erian, and Llor scurried behind her.
“Well, no, but . . .” She’d left him, taken the children, and announced in front of witnesses that she had no intention to return. That severed their vows, by forest law. But she hadn’t paused to think through the implications, that maybe fantasies didn’t have to stay fantasies. Instead she’d been so caught up in reacting, and then the travel . . . “This isn’t the time for talk like that.” She had greater things to worry about than whether Ven was the kindest, most intense, most sincere man she’d ever met . . . It was indulgent to even think like this when she had two children to look after in a strange, overwhelming city. Naelin looked at Erian and Llor and wondered if they’d realized that their family was shattered, permanently. She wondered if they’d ever fully understand. I’ve hurt them, she thought. Whether they knew it yet or not, whether she meant to or not, whether she had a choice or not, whether it was her fault or not, she’d uprooted their lives.