“Save it for your next candidate.” She closed her eyes for a moment against his response. But he didn’t launch into his usual speech. Maybe he’s as tired of it as I am. She hated that she was disappointing him, even though she’d never wanted this. “How does Queen Daleina do it?”
“Every queen and every heir I’ve ever worked with has been, at their core, an optimist. Even knowing the odds were against them, they never allowed themselves to believe they’d fail. Daleina was shocked at the Coronation Massacre. She never truly believed that spirits would kill the other heirs. You, on the other hand, would have gone in there expecting it.”
Every time spirits came, she was thrown back into remembering the day when her family died—how she felt huddled under the floor, the sounds and the smells. “You can’t turn me into an optimist. I’ve seen too much death.” She couldn’t stop fearing the spirits, and she didn’t want to. The day you stopped fearing them, the day you felt you had control, that was the day you died. Her mother didn’t expect the spirits she called to overwhelm her. Neither, Naelin was certain, had the heirs who died in the grove.
He hesitated, and Naelin liked him better for that hesitation—he didn’t know what to do either, and weirdly that was comforting. But then his “in-charge champion” face snapped back into position, and he was again using his voice of authority, which was probably highly effective on young candidates but less impressive to Naelin, who had used that tone herself plenty of times. “As corny as it sounds, you need to believe in yourself.”
Naelin snorted. “You can’t tell me the queen doesn’t fear the spirits. She saw what they can do. It can’t be just about cheerful confidence and a positive attitude.”
“Daleina feels fear, but it doesn’t cause her to retreat. She pushes back harder.”
“Good for her.” She buried her face in her hands. “Ugh! Why can’t I do this? I sent the kraken away! These little spirits should be nothing!”
“You need that core of determination—”
“I am determined.” How many times had Renet called her stubborn? My pigheadedness is my defining feature. It was why she’d stayed married to Renet for so long, even though she’d been acting more like his mother than his wife for some time. She’d been so determined to keep their marriage from dying that she hadn’t wanted to admit it was already dead. “You’ve seen me be determined.”
“With me, yes. But with the spirits? Your fear swallows your determination.”
He was right, of course. Naelin knew what fear could do: it could freeze you worse than an ice spirit. She remembered when Erian was five years old, and she was terrified of climbing, which was a problem when their home was a hundred feet up in a tree and her school was even higher. Don’t look down, Naelin had told her. But Renet had said, Look down. It’s all right to be afraid. She’d looked down, shaking like a leaf in a stiff breeze, and didn’t move. For well over an hour, she sat there, staring, and then eventually, because she was five, she got bored. And she climbed. He’d been right.
Ven was talking again, telling her how strong her power was, how she’d already proven she had the potential, how she should trust herself—and on and on.
Naelin lowered her hands. “I have a truly terrible idea.”
This was enough to break through his faux relaxed pose. For the first time since practice began, he looked interested. “I like terrible ideas.”
“I want to surround myself with spirits.”
“All right.”
“I don’t want to control them. Just acclimatize myself to them.” Walking over to the balcony doors, she peered out. In the nearby area, she could sense dozens of spirits: fire spirits dancing in the candles and hearths, air spirits flitting above the canopy and playing with the flags, water spirits weighing down the clouds, earth spirits burrowing through the gardens, tree spirits, even a few ice spirits. If she opened her mind to them and invited them in . . . called them closer but didn’t use them . . . “You don’t think it’s a terrible idea?”
“Works for me.” He drew his sword.
“Last time I summoned all the spirits, a kraken nearly destroyed the academy. I can’t promise that won’t happen again.”
“You’re high above the earth. Plus Daleina knows you’re training. She’ll keep us from destroying the palace. Call them.”
Opening the balcony doors, Naelin stepped outside. She felt wind in her face, carrying the scent of pine needles and roses. She heard the bustle of people in the city, crossing over the many bridges, beyond the thick mat of leaves. Below, guards clustered near the entrance, and a couple strolled through a pavilion. She wondered what her children were doing, if they were happy, if they were scared, if they’d eaten their lunch . . .
Come. She sent the word out, first to the air spirits, letting it ride on the breeze. Come, she whispered to the trees. Come, she called the fire and the water. Come, ice and earth.
She felt a breeze first on her face. It smelled sweet, with a hint of saltwater and overripe fruit that didn’t grow within a hundred miles of the forest, and it danced around her, lifting her hair from her neck. Naelin turned to see the breeze solidify into a dancing spirit. It was joined by others, cavorting in a ring around her. Their translucent skin shimmered in the light of the fire spirits. An earth spirit climbed in over the balcony and plopped onto the floor—it was a toad with a boy’s head. A tree spirit made of knobby sticks perched on the balcony. It ripped the canopy fabric with its skinny fingers. She told herself not to stop it.
More poured into the room. She felt them crawling in through the balcony window, like insects on her skin. Ven opened the door, and more crowded in—fire spirits from the lanterns, tree spirits from the walls and floors, earth spirits from the kitchen and flower gardens.
Most were tiny, the size of her palm. They zipped through the room, cackling and shrieking, chasing one another. An ice spirit decorated a wall with frost. A fire spirit landed in the hearth, set a log on fire, and tossed it to another spirit. They began to toss it back and forth, sparks flying up to the ceiling. A water spirit rained in a corner.
Naelin wanted to run out of the room screaming.
She forced herself to stand still.
She felt the spirits swirl around her, too close. An earth spirit cozied up to her ankle. A tree spirit ran along her arm. An air spirit entwined itself in her hair. She felt its tiny feet on her scalp. Sweat prickled over her skin, and Naelin wiped her palms on her skirt. Her mouth was dry, and she felt her heart beating so hard in her chest that it hurt. There wasn’t enough air. The spirits were sucking away all the oxygen. She began to gasp for breath.
“Calm,” Ven said.
“Doesn’t help,” she reminded him.
“Just breathe.”