“Of course, Your Majesty. Except for letting yourself get poisoned, and then concealing the truth from everyone so that they were caught unprepared when you collapsed.” Instantly, Naelin wished she could take the words back. This was the queen. You didn’t talk to the queen that way! If Erian or Llor had talked to anyone that way, Naelin would have sent them to sit in the corner on an uncomfortable stool.
But Daleina just sighed, looking—if anything—a bit abashed. “I was attempting to avoid panic and riots. My hope was to have an heir in place before anyone needed to know. But the champions tell me that their chosen candidates are not ready. In fact, they are so far from ready that it’s laughable. Whether I hold the trials in ten days or two months, they’ll die. All of them. Like the Coronation Massacre, except it truly will be my fault.”
Naelin felt as if the air had thinned. “Then why—”
“You are the only one who is close,” the queen said, “and if you do not quit clinging to your ego as if your hatred is some kind of child’s blanket, then we are all doomed.”
“You’re much less diplomatic than I thought a queen would be,” Naelin said.
The queen blushed slightly. “I’ve had a bad day.”
“No, it’s all right. In fact, it’s good. You might be young, but you’re an excellent queen. I very much hope you don’t die.” Naelin meant it with all her heart. She’d never truly thought of the queen as a person before, not a real flesh-and-blood one with feelings and thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears.
To Naelin’s surprise, Queen Daleina smiled. “Glad we can agree.” Reaching out, she took Naelin’s hands. The queen’s hands were tiny, with bones that felt as light as a bird’s, and oddly rough—she had as many climbing calluses as Naelin did. “We’re going to try this together. Be ready, though. Using my power can trigger blackouts.”
“Then why risk—”
“You must learn. And you must learn fast. It should be safe enough, since you will be doing the bulk of the actual work. Stretch out your mind with me . . .”
Naelin reached out with her mind—and this time, she felt . . . She had no words for it, but it felt like a breeze beside her. She drifted with the breeze, touching lightly the spirits around the palace. Chasing the breeze, she followed it to see . . .
A grove.
A barren grove, but distorted, as if she were looking at it through a sheen of raindrops. She saw it from above, below, and various angles all at once, so that the barren patch was warped.
“Touch as many tree spirits as you can. Suggest they may be hungry.”
Reaching out, Naelin pushed the thoughts out wide: Hungry? Food? Grow?
With a cry, the spirits flocked to the barren patch. First a few, then more, then even more until there were dozens of them diving into the earth and then rising up, pulling new trees with them: nut trees and fruit trees . . . In mere seconds, the patch was alive again and filled with ripened nuts and fruits. Naelin felt the spirits begin to feast.
The queen released her hands. “Do you feel tired?”
“No.” She should feel something—that had been a lot of spirits—but she didn’t. In fact, she felt amazing, as if her blood had been replaced with chocolate. She felt herself smile. “You?”
“I didn’t black out, and no one died.” The queen regarded Naelin for a moment, a smile creeping onto her own face. “Shall we do it again?”
This time, Naelin took the queen’s hands.
Chapter 25
Erian placed the pieces of the miyan set on the board. Each piece had been carved out of a different beautiful stone: jade, quartz, and other stones she couldn’t name. One had a lightning pattern of yellow. Another had pink flecks. Mama had said it cost a fortune and it wasn’t for children to play with.
But breaking that rule was a lot better than letting Llor run free. It had taken him less than two hours after they’d discovered they had no guards to find the dumbwaiter that led to the kitchen, the back route to the armory, and an open window that led to the greenhouse. Erian was tired of chasing after him.
“If you don’t sit still,” Erian told him, “I’m going to ask Mama to tie you to a chair.”
“She won’t do it,” Llor said. “And if you make me play, I’m going to cheat.”
“If you cheat, I’ll tell the palace guards.”
“If you tell the guards, I’ll put a frog in your bed.”
“If you put a frog in my bed, I’ll scream. And then the guards will come again.”
Llor fidgeted in his seat. “But miyan is so boring.”
“Not if you don’t cheat.”
He picked up one of the pieces and made it gallop across the board and then bash another piece. “Pow, pow, pow.”
“Put that down.” She finished setting out the pieces. She thought that was how they went, arrayed in semicircles, but she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. She picked up the jade piece again and scowled at it.
“If Father was here, he’d play hide-and-seek with me.”
Erian felt her throat thicken, as if she’d swallowed something gummy. “Well, he’s not, and you’re stuck with me. Besides, Mama hates hide-and-seek. She likes to know where we are.” She blinked fast so she wouldn’t cry. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She had to be strong, for Mama.
He muttered so low that Erian wasn’t sure she heard him correctly: “You’re boring.”
He’s so . . . so . . . argh! She slammed the miyan piece onto the board, and its arm chipped off and flew across the room. Both of them watched the sliver of jade fly. It landed on the carpet by the hearth.
“Ooh,” Llor said. “I didn’t do it.”
The door to their chambers swung open. “Didn’t do what?” a woman asked.
Both Erian and Llor jumped off their chairs. “Captain Alet!” Game forgotten, they flew to the guard. Llor reached her first and hurled himself at her, hugging her neck. Erian followed behind. She wanted to hug her too but wasn’t sure whether that was okay or not. Then Captain Alet held out her free arm toward Erian, and Erian threw her arms around the guardswoman. She smelled like metal and rusty copper. Erian wrinkled her nose.
“Have you been fighting spirits?” Llor asked.
“Not today, little warrior. But I have been out in the capital, taking care of a few things for the queen. Just got back and thought I’d see if my two favorite warriors were hungry.”
Erian’s stomach growled, as if on cue. “We had breakfast, but . . .” It had been before the funeral, and Erian hadn’t felt like eating much. And then Mama had disappeared for more training, leaving them alone. Or as alone as we can be in a palace stuffed with strangers.
“Can I show you the secret passageway I found to the kitchen?” Llor asked, jumping from foot to foot.
“If it’s secret, are you sure you should be telling me?”
He stopped jumping.
Captain Alet laughed. “I’m kidding. Yes, please show me.”
“Or we could just use the stairs,” Erian suggested.
But Llor was already bolting for the door and flinging it open. “The palace is really big. No, not big. That word is too small. Why is the word ‘big’ such a small word? It should have a super enormous number of letters.”
“‘Enormous’ is a large word,” Captain Alet said, following, “especially for a little boy.”