Daleina leaned back against her throne and rubbed her temples. She’d already discarded her crown—it wasn’t as if anyone was likely to forget she was queen—but her head still ached. Lack of sleep, Hamon had told her. Also stress. It’s not as if I can prevent that. “You are dancing around something, and I don’t like it,” she informed her chancellors.
Chancellor Isolek fidgeted uncomfortably in his high-back chair. “It is only that we take no pleasure in bringing you this news.”
“You don’t want to say ‘I told you so’?” Daleina guessed.
“Precisely,” Chancellor Quisala said. She looked smaller, as if she’d shrunk during the past few weeks. Her wrinkles had folded in on themselves until her skin looked more like tree bark. Leaning across the table, she placed markers on the map of Aratay. Chancellor Isolek jumped forward and took the markers for her, positioning them along the border with Semo, clustered in the northeast. Chancellor Quisala sagged back into her chair for a moment and then fixed her posture—Daleina thought about ordering the woman to sleep more, but that was as likely to be effective as Hamon telling Daleina to rest. Both of them had better things to do.
“Over the last few days, we’ve seen significant movement here”—Isolek pointed at the map—“and here, in the northeast. Each marker denotes a squadron. That puts three squadrons just over the border in Nimoc, with another positioned due north of Ogdare and another northeast of North Garat, leaving only one behind north of Birchen.”
“It’s undeniable,” Quisala said. “This is no training exercise.”
Oh, Merecot, why are you doing this? Daleina thought. “We can send more envoys—”
“Your Majesty . . .” Isolek’s voice was gentle. “We believe the time has come to admit that diplomacy has failed.”
“Queen Merecot is invading,” Quisala said, thumping her frail fist on the table, “and we must respond. It may be too late already. She will sweep across the northern border—the guards there are not plentiful enough to repel an army of this size. She could reach Mittriel quickly.”
“Here is where we disagree, Your Majesty,” Isolek said. “She won’t come from the north; she’ll come from the northeast. She does not have enough soldiers to take Mittriel, even if she passes the border towns successfully.”
“Which she will,” Quisala put in, bitterness thick in her voice. “We left those woefully undefended.” She then shot a glance at Daleina. “For a reason. I understand that now.”
Daleina nodded to show she was not angered, at least not at her advisers.
“She may be positioned to attack the capital, but not with a large enough army to claim it,” Isolek said. “Our spies have not reported any increase in troops to the north. We believe there is an alternate explanation—that she may be trying to bite off a corner of Aratay, absorb it into Semo and expand her borders, rather than attempting a full-scale invasion. Look at the mass of troops near Ogdare and North Garat!” Isolek tapped the map. “We must make a choice as to where to send our soldiers: to the northeast to prevent an incursion there, or north to defend Mittriel. Frankly, I think the choice is clear: northeast. It’s the only place she has enough soldiers to form a true threat.”
“But that risks leaving Mittriel exposed!” Quisala said. “And the border towns will surely be overrun if you are wrong. Birchen will be destroyed.”
“Look at the numbers, Quisala!” Isolek jabbed at the map so hard that he dented it. “She has no hope of capturing Mittriel. Clearly the threat is in the northeast. That’s where we send soldiers . . . assuming that we can spare them at all. Your Majesty . . .”
With Candidate Naelin in the palace, Daleina was less worried about the spirits attacking the capital if and when she had another blackout. She was worried about that squadron north of Mittriel. Yes, it was only one squadron, but Chancellor Quisala was correct: if Daleina sent all the guards to the northeast, it exposed the capital, and if Daleina fell in battle before an heir was named and Merecot were able to take Mittriel . . . she could take it all. “It depends on whether she wants to annex a small portion of Aratay or wants the entire country,” she mused.
“Your Majesty, you know her best,” Quisala said, spreading her hands.
She wants it all, Daleina thought. Merecot was nothing if not ambitious. Leaning over the map, Daleina studied it again. A lot of forest lay between the capital and the northern border, but Daleina knew the shape of the land. She’d felt it as she sank herself into the spirits. She’d been with them as they soared over. The birches due north were easy to travel through, a direct line to Mittriel. “Northeast is a decoy. She wants us to send troops there to leave Mittriel exposed. It’s a trap.”
Quisala slapped the table. “Exactly as I said!”
“But she doesn’t have enough troops to take Mittriel,” Isolek protested. “There’s plenty of forest between the border and the capital and plenty of people who will rise to defend their homes. With one squadron, she can’t do it.”
Daleina closed her eyes, not wanting to say it but knowing it needed to be said. “She’ll use spirits.”
Both Quisala and Isolek protested. No queen would ever use spirits against humans. It was not done. It violated everything a queen was sworn to do.
Daleina knew for a fact that didn’t stop all queens—Queen Fara hadn’t hesitated to use spirits against humans.
Daleina thought of Sata and of Mari, who had been crushed by six tree spirits on the late queen’s orders. When they’d poisoned the queen, Fara had been bargaining with a spirit to exchange the lives of villagers for more power and control. Merecot might not be doing the same, but she wouldn’t hesitate to order the spirits to do whatever she felt had to be done.
“Send the troops north. We protect Mittriel.” If Queen Merecot took the capital before an heir was ready, she could claim all of Aratay. They had to keep Merecot’s people out of Mittriel, away from the throne.
“But the northeast . . . it will be overrun.”
“Can we protect both?”
Isolek studied the map. “No. You have to choose. If you’re wrong, all of our troops will be out of position, twiddling their thumbs while Queen Merecot’s army bites off the northeast.”
“And if I’m right?”
“All of our troops will be in the right position, fighting spirits, while Queen Merecot’s army still takes the northeast.” Chancellor Isolek slumped back in his chair. “You paint a grim picture, Your Majesty. A choice that is no choice.”
How ambitious was Merecot? Would she really use spirits to attack the capital?
Very. And yes.
There had to be a way to protect all her people. She tapped the table. If she weren’t afraid of another false death, she could use spirits to defend the capital. Except she’d never been as strong as Merecot. Nowhere near.