And now she was going to let him down.
She drew a deep breath. “I’ll try again.”
He clapped her shoulder, and she lurched forward before catching herself. Standing, she smiled shakily at him. “Tell me what to do.”
“You saw the petals fall at the funeral? How about asking the spirits to create a few of those flowers? Seems a thing that a queen is likely to have to do.” He smiled encouragingly, and she thought it was a shame his wife had died before they’d had children. He would have been such a wonderful father.
“Okay.” She could do this. Flowers. Closing her eyes, she reached out to touch the closest tree spirits. There were three nearby, two larger and one smaller. She selected the smaller one and focused on it. Come.
She felt it skittering over the branches, and then she heard it—tiny steps on a branch. She also heard Champion Havtru draw his knife, the familiar soft rattle of metal against the leather scabbard. He always held a weapon when spirits were near. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he’d told Esiella. It was that he didn’t trust them.
Grow. Bloom. She pictured the vine she wanted and then the flowers. She repeated this image, pushing it toward the little spirit. Come on, you can do it.
“Good,” Champion Havtru murmured. “Very good.”
She opened her eyes. Petals were falling inside the training room. Only a few, but still. She’d done it! If she were queen, she’d know how to commemorate the dead . . . Her stomach lurched forward, and she couldn’t stop it. Dropping down, she was sick on the floor, missing the bucket entirely.
Petals fell into the mess, and the spirit skittered away.
On her hands and knees, Esiella panted. Her stomach felt empty. Her head felt light. And her sides hurt. Tears heated her eyes.
Champion Havtru patted her back, lightly this time. “It’s all right. Happens to the best of us. I’ll fetch you some towels to clean up. Don’t worry about it. You did well!”
She heard him leave the room, his footsteps retreating then the door. Rocking back, she sat on her heels. She felt stickiness in the corners of her mouth but had nothing to wipe it with. She squeezed her eyes and let the tears fall.
If she tried to be queen, many would die. She’d be making petals fall daily over more and more fresh graves. She wasn’t ready, and she couldn’t be ready in time. Distantly, she heard voices: Havtru and another voice, a muffled voice that she didn’t recognize. She didn’t try to listen to their words. She was sure Champion Havtru was hiding her sickness, talking up how well she was doing, praising her more than she deserved—to build up her confidence, he said.
All it did was remind her of her failures.
Maybe her family and teacher had been right about her. Maybe she didn’t deserve this. Champion Havtru should be spending his time with someone who didn’t fall apart like she did.
Esiella heard the door creak, a tiny sound but she heard it—Champion Havtru.
He was checking on her.
She didn’t turn around. She wasn’t ready to face him.
I should tell him that he’s wasting his time. I’ll never be good enough. She knew what he’d say, though. He’d tell her what he always did: that he believed in her, and if she didn’t believe in herself . . . well, then he’d believe enough for both of them. She had talent, he’d say. She only had to trust it. Listen to him, she told herself. Not to your past.
“I’ll try harder,” she said. “I won’t let you down.”
Esiella turned around.
It wasn’t Champion Havtru.
She felt the knife slide into her body.
And her last thought was of the petals that would fall for her.
Naelin didn’t know what it said about her life lately that she was unsurprised when the Queen of Aratay swept into her training room. She dropped into an immediate curtsy, and the fire spirit that was dancing in the hearth hissed. Sparks jumped out onto the flagstones.
“You may rise,” the queen said. She gestured to her guards, and they bowed and retreated to the door. The wolf Bayn padded inside behind the queen, and then the guards closed the door, leaving Naelin alone with Her Majesty and Bayn.
Unsure what to say, Naelin knelt to greet Bayn. He trotted up to her, tail wagging, and she scratched behind his ears. “The children have missed you,” she told the wolf.
He drooped his tongue out of his mouth and managed, somehow, to look sorry.
“Don’t worry. They’ll forgive you if you visit soon,” Naelin said. “They have the emotional memory spans of hummingbirds.”
He crossed to the fireplace and growled at the spirit. The spirit darted up the chimney, and the wolf curled up on the hearth. Naelin rose and faced the queen. Inside, where shadows crisscrossed the room, the queen looked more tired than Naelin had thought. Gray-purple bruiselike shadows lined her eyes, and her cheeks were pale. Her hands were trembling slightly. Naelin wanted to guide her to a cushion-covered couch and wrap her in warm blankets, but she guessed that wouldn’t be appropriate. She ventured a question. “Are you well, Your Majesty?”
Queen Daleina let out a bark that was a half laugh, half cry. “Aside from the fact that I am dying? Oh yes, I am quite well.” She glided across the floor and then sat in a chair near Bayn. She perched on the edge of it, as if she didn’t intend to stay. “I came to say thank you, but now that I’m here, I don’t know where to begin. You saved many lives today.”
“I assume Champion Ven has told you I reconsidered?” Naelin felt her face heat up. “I mean, about being heir. Trying to be heir. Training. Training to be heir, not . . . I wouldn’t presume, that is, Your Majesty.” Oh, good grief. She hadn’t been this tongue-tied since she was a kid. She gave herself a mental slap. Quit it.
The queen gestured at the ornate couch near her. “Please, sit.”
Naelin sank onto the cushions. It was low, too low, and the cushion sagged under her. She had to bend her legs to the side, but she managed it. It was amazing how a simple circle worn on a person’s head could make one feel so awkward.
Queen Daleina glanced around the room, and Naelin was overly aware of the mess she’d made. The walls were scorched in spots, dirt was ground into the carpet, the mattress on the former queen’s bed was gone—it had been drenched by a water spirit that Naelin had failed to control. “Queen Fara liked opulence,” Queen Daleina said. “I see you have redecorated.”