“Yes, of course,” he answered immediately. “But I don’t think she did. Her surprise at being called to the palace seemed real. And if she’d created such a clever poison, I don’t think she’d miss the chance to gloat. If I’m wrong, though . . . the guards will keep her contained.”
That had to be good enough, for now. At least he was aware of the possibility. “I will send royal investigators to the heirs’ families, the wealthiest first, while you talk to your mother about her friends. Hamon, we’ll find who did this! I’ll live!” She cradled his face as he began to cry. “I’ll live.”
Folding her hands on her lap, Daleina tried not to show how much the conversation with Hamon had affected her. He’d given her hope, and it felt as powerful as the most potent wine. She’d deployed investigators, after telling them a version of the truth—that someone had tried to poison her; she didn’t tell them that someone had succeeded—and now all she had to do was wait. And be queen.
She’d chosen to hold court today in the Sunrise Room. Cradled in the center of the east spire, the Sunrise Room was painted in lemons, pinks, and pale blues, with a floor inlaid with so much amber that it glowed when the sun streamed through the leaves. Her throne was in a pool of light. It was a room that felt filled with hope, and she hadn’t had the energy to face its cheerfulness in days. But today it felt right to be in this room.
That said, her first meeting was less than cheerful.
She was supposed to be spared from the day-to-day minutiae of running a country—there were legions of courtiers, caretakers, and chancellors devoted to everything from trade to education to waste removal. The queen’s role was first and foremost to control the spirits, and then second to be the voice of Aratay when the country needed to react in one accord. But some days, there was a lot that needed to be heard by the voice of Aratay.
For forty minutes, one of her border guards had been reporting to an audience of her and two advisers on activity to the north, at the border with the mountainous land of Semo. He’d described in minute detail the movement of guards, illustrating on a map how Semoian soldiers had been filtering into the area in small groups that added up to large numbers. “Training exercises, they call it,” he said, and then fiddled with the lapel of his jacket as he talked—the caretakers had let him wear a variant of his uniform, but it clearly still had more frills than he was used to. She’d have to talk to them about that sometime. It didn’t offend her to see people in ordinary clothes. It did offend her when they droned on for forty minutes, especially when she could be with her sister, sharing the news with her. Or with Ven. Or Alet. But her advisers had agreed it was important for her to hear this.
“Queen Merecot hasn’t declared war,” one of her advisers noted—Chancellor Isolek. He was a stocky man with a braided beard. The braids were tipped with jewels, and he had less patience for wasted time than Daleina did, which meant that he felt this meeting was important.
“‘Training exercises’ is a legitimate euphemism for mobilizing for war,” the other, Chancellor Quisala, said. She was older and had been an adviser to multiple queens. Daleina trusted her opinion on foreign affairs more than any other.
“Merecot wouldn’t go to war against me,” Daleina said. They’d been friends at the academy. Nothing had happened to change that. Merecot—Queen Merecot of Semo—had even sent a lovely diamond statue to celebrate her coronation. “Our countries are allies.”
“She may not have told her military that,” Chancellor Quisala said. “Look at the positions here and here.” She pointed at the map that the guard had scribbled all over.
“We signed treaties.” Daleina began to feel an ache between her temples. She rubbed her forehead. This was not what she wanted to be doing today. She wanted to be chasing down the poisoner, but she’d already deployed the investigators. In truth, there was nothing for her to do but wait. “She can’t declare war on us.”
“She can’t declare war,” Chancellor Quisala said. “But she could wage war.”
“Not Merecot. She wouldn’t.” She knew as she said the words that this wasn’t true—Merecot’s ambition was boundless—but the timing was terrible. There had to be a way to stop this before it started. Nip it in the bud.
Chancellor Isolek pushed back his chair and paced. “If we move guards into those areas, it will be seen as an act of aggression. We’ll have to declare ‘training exercises’ as well. It will escalate.”
“We have to de-escalate it,” Daleina said. Her situation was too precarious for this. She needed all guards near her people, not the borders, in case of another blackout. It didn’t matter whether Merecot was honoring their treaties or not. Daleina’s people needed to be defended from the danger within; she couldn’t worry about the danger without. “I want a message sent to Merecot, a personal message from queen to queen. Remind her of our friendship, and the treaties.”
“Polite missives might not be enough,” Chancellor Quisala cautioned. Leaning over the map, she pointed to various cities around Aratay. “Here are where our guards currently are. If we pull out of the cities, send them north, and leave defense to the local woodsmen until this is resolved—”
“We can’t do that,” Daleina said. She wished she could explain why. She knew she looked na?ve and inexperienced by refusing to take their advice, but they couldn’t know the truth.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, Chancellor Quisala is correct that this requires a response,” Chancellor Isolek said. “If training exercises turn into an incursion, we must have troops in place. But we need your approval.”
As queen, she was the commander of all military. She had final say over deployment, though she’d never had to use that power before. Until now, the guards had functioned fine without her. Oh, Merecot, not now! “I won’t escalate the situation, and I won’t approve the repositioning of our warriors. Merecot is not our enemy, and we are not hers. Perhaps Merecot needs to be reminded who the real enemy is, but that won’t be done by rattling our swords at her guards.”
The border guard bowed. “Your Majesty, if she does—”
“She won’t. I know Merecot, and she will listen to reason.” Actually, Merecot wasn’t known for listening to anyone, but Daleina didn’t see much choice. Not when she could still die at any moment. Until they had a sample of poison or at least a viable heir ready, Daleina herself was the greatest threat to Aratay. Since she couldn’t say that, though, she’d simply have to be firm and hope her commands at least sounded reasonable enough. “We try diplomacy first.”