“Why not? Thought you’d be dead by now.”
“Are you here to frighten me?” She refused to let it see that it was working. The spirits were bolder, coming into her chambers. They’d noticed she was unwilling to use her powers, though she didn’t know if they’d guessed why. Hamon had said using her powers could trigger more false deaths, and she believed him. She’d had one blackout after she’d encouraged a fire spirit to douse the palace lights, and of course there was the blackout at the new village tree. Luckily, no one else had died since then.
It bared its teeth and then giggled, a shrill sound that made shivers crisscross her skin. “Your fear is delicious.” It skittered closer, moving so fast that it seemed to wink in and out, and less than a second later, it was beside her, close enough to lick her. Its tongue flicked in and out, and she pulled back.
“You will leave now,” she told it.
“Aw, will you hurt me?”
“He will.” She whistled, once, sharp and high, and with a growl, the wolf Bayn leapt through the curtains across the balcony. Jaws open, he sprang for the spirit.
Squealing, the spirit bolted out a window and disappeared with a rustle between the branches of one of the trees. Daleina scratched Bayn’s neck, and the wolf leaned against her leg. “Good job,” she told him. “Sorry to disturb your nap.”
He padded back out to the balcony, circled twice, and then laid down. She spared him a smile, though it faded quickly. The spirits had noticed she was avoiding commanding them, and it wouldn’t be long before they did more than merely mock her—this was a test, to see how she’d react. She wasn’t convinced she’d passed.
A knock sounded on the door. “Yes?” Daleina called.
A familiar voice answered in crisp tones. “Captain Alet, returning to duty, Your Majesty.”
Smiling, Daleina crossed the room and opened the door herself. “Alet!”
Alet began to bow, but Daleina hugged her friend instead. “Delighted you’re back, and that you weren’t eaten by bears or wolves—”
Bayn made a huffing noise from the balcony.
“Sorry, Bayn.” Stepping back, she surveyed Alet. She looked well. No visible wounds. She’d bathed recently—her skin had that fresh-scrubbed look, and her hair was smoothed back beneath a traditional guard helmet. “Were you and Ven successful?”
Alet closed the door and didn’t answer. She was frowning at Daleina. “You haven’t been eating enough. Or sleeping enough.”
“I take it I don’t look majestically ethereal?” She’d been avoiding mirrors—she could tell she was beginning to look sickly, even if no one else had commented on it. Alet, though, would never lie to her. This was part of why Daleina had missed her so much.
Alet moved to pivot toward the door. “I’m calling for food.”
Daleina stopped her with a hand on Alet’s arm. “I’m fine. Well, not fine. But I’m not hungry. I’d rather hear about your journey. Did Ven find a new candidate?”
“He did.”
She felt tension run out of her legs and arms like water. Her knees wobbled—she hadn’t realized exactly how much she’d been counting on that answer. “And do you think she will do? Is she strong? Is she good?”
Alet hesitated—and in that pause, Daleina felt her newly formed hope crumble. “She is both strong and good,” Alet said at last.
“But . . . ?”
The guardswoman crossed to the balcony as if checking to be sure the room was secure.
“Alet?” Daleina said. “You might think you have perfected the stoic soldier face, but those of us who know you well can read you like a book. No secrets between us, Alet. Did Ven find me an heir?”
“I’m sorry,” Alet said, and when she turned, Daleina saw both pain and sorrow in her friend’s eyes, “but I don’t believe he did.”
Daleina closed her eyes and, for a moment, let the pain of that disappointment roll over her, and then she locked the feeling away with bricks around her heart. “I see. Well, Aratay thanks you for your efforts.”
“Now that I have returned, I request to resume my duties as your guard.” Her tone was formal—an official request. She’d worn her palace guard armor, Daleina noticed, clearly expecting a yes.
Daleina opened her mouth to reply yes, of course, but the words stuck in her throat. She had a sudden image of Alet, fighting the spirits while Daleina was semi-dead. Dying, while Daleina was helpless to save her. “Hamon says the false deaths will become more common and last longer. Any guard near me is in danger.”
“All the more reason it should be me. I am the best.”
“Alet . . .” Daleina couldn’t say she wanted to protect Alet because she was a friend. She shouldn’t value one guard’s life over another. And Alet was correct: she was the best. If anyone had a chance of surviving an onslaught of spirits, it was her. “I would be honored to be guarded by you.”
“The honor is mine,” Alet said, and then hesitated again. “And I am glad . . . that is . . . it’s good to see you. I didn’t . . . I mean, while we were gone . . .”
Daleina managed a smile. “I missed you too.”
Bowing, Alet opened the door and stepped outside to resume her position as guard. Daleina heard her dismiss the other guard and then greet Hamon. As she listened, Daleina tried to think nothing and feel nothing, but the insidious thoughts kept running through her head, Ven failed. And I’m a danger to everyone I love.
She watched Hamon enter and close the door behind him. Not trusting herself to speak, she waited for him to tell her why he was here. She didn’t ask if he’d found a cure, or even clues. She couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that she’d just doomed her friend.
Stopping at a table, he unrolled a packet of medical supplies. “Your Majesty, I’ve come to take more samples, if you feel well enough.” Selecting a syringe, he prepared it and laid out two additional tubes. “Are you feeling light-headed, weak, or dizzy?”
“Fine.” She watched him for a moment, noting that he hadn’t met her eyes since he began fiddling with his needles and test tubes. “Hamon, what is it?”
Crossing to her, he rolled her sleeve up and then tied a ribbon tight around her arm. “Make a fist.” She obeyed and watched as he tapped her inner elbow, feeling for her vein. He inserted the needle. “My mother has arrived. I will be asking her to examine your blood. I won’t be telling her who owns the blood.” He drew the blood evenly, then removed the needle and pressed a piece of cotton to the pinprick. “Pressure on this, please.”
She pressed down on the cotton as he stoppered and stored the tubes. He labeled each of them and secured the needle in his pack, covered with a sheath to show it had been used. Everything had its place in Hamon’s pack. Everything he did was done with precision. “How do you feel, seeing her again?”
“There’s no time to feel anything,” Hamon said. “She’s here to serve a purpose. Once she’s done, she will leave. I feel nothing.”