Mother held one of the vials up. “Ooh, or maybe all of them!” Humming happily to herself, she carried the first one to her makeshift workbench. “Just a drop, my dear,” she said to Arin. “Once we’ve identified the compound, we’ll need more to synthesize an antidote, and then more to test it. Since my son refuses to be practical . . .”
“No murder,” Hamon said. “We’re here to prevent death, not cause it.” That was a sentence that really shouldn’t need to be said out loud. Hovering, he watched his mother and the queen’s sister. Mother had set herself up well, using a combination of kitchen and medical supplies to create a decent laboratory. But it was Arin who took command of it.
Arin was the one who handled the poisons.
Arin was the one who set up the experiments.
Arin was the one who stayed calm, steady, and serious while Hamon hovered over her and Mother issued directions from the comfort of the pillow-laden couch.
And it was Arin who identified the poison: a mix of heartease, soldier grass, and six other compounds that no one should have ever thought to mix together. Crowding around the workbench, the three of them stared at the innocent-looking amber liquid.
“Now,” Mother said, “we get to work.”
Headmistress Hanna felt every bone creak as she climbed the palace stairs. She hadn’t been in the Queen’s Tower for years, and she didn’t miss it. Her own office was high enough, thank you very much, but one didn’t ignore a summons from the queen just because it was inconvenient or uncomfortable—which this most certainly was. She was puffing by the time she reached the top.
Several others were already squeezed into the tiny space: Queen Daleina, Champion Ven, Champion Piriandra, the palace seneschal, and two chancellors, who were both folded into wooden chairs and looked unhappy either because of the situation or their seating arrangements. Or perhaps they were unhappy because of the large wolf curled at their feet.
And most surprising of all: Candidate Naelin.
Hanna was certainly not expecting her. Still, she hadn’t gotten to where she was in life without having a little patience. Hanna knew all—or at least, most—would be explained.
“Are you well?” Ven asked the headmistress.
“Old age,” she replied. “Nothing that a bit of death won’t cure.”
One of the chancellors, a man with a full beard—Chancellor Isolek, her memory supplied—sprang to his feet and offered her his chair. Hanna motioned for him to sit back down. If Hanna sat down, she knew her muscles would clench and it would be that much harder to stand again.
“Thank you for coming,” Queen Daleina said to all of them. “Rumors will start flying soon, as news trickles in from the north. Until then, this is the most private place in Aratay. Naelin will be keeping away any spirits while we talk.” Hanna noticed that Naelin was focused out the window. Her fists were clenched, and her eyes were scanning the night sky and the dark forest canopy below. Hanna knew she wasn’t looking with only her eyes, which meant she had advanced much since they had last met.
It was a crisp night, and the wind blew through the open windows of the tower. The flames in the lanterns wavered, and shadows crossed the queen’s face. She looks tired, Hanna thought. So do we all. She doubted many in the kingdom had slept much since the queen had announced her illness.
Champion Piriandra was scowling. “Why are we here?”
“To the point, then . . . we are being invaded. It has already begun.” As Hanna gasped, Daleina smiled sadly at the two chancellors. “I was correct: they are coming from the north, straight to Mittriel.”
“I know you take no joy in that,” Chancellor Quisala said stiffly.
“They sense weakness,” Piriandra said, and Hanna wanted to scold her for the hostile tone of her voice. Young or not, inexperienced or not, powerful or not, Daleina was queen.
“Here is what we know,” Ven said, stepping in before she could say anything. “Queen Merecot arranged for Queen Daleina to be poisoned, using a slow-acting concoction that masqueraded as a natural illness.”
“Presumably she guessed that I would react exactly the way I did: keeping our soldiers in Mittriel to protect my people in case I lost control, rather than sending them to the borders,” Daleina said. Hanna had the sense she’d pace if she could, but the tower was too cramped. Instead she fidgeted, twisting the sleeves of her gown and fiddling with the pearl embellishments. “I do not regret this decision, though it nearly proved disastrous—Merecot effectively silenced whatever minimal border guard we have. We received no warning through them when the invasion began.”
“Then how did you know?” Piriandra asked again.
“I can feel them,” Daleina said simply.
Ven spoke again. “We believe Queen Merecot used this poison in order to buy herself time to gather Semo’s soldiers and spirits at our border.”
“We will send our troops north to intercept,” Chancellor Isolek said, rising. “If we begin immediately, they can be in Birchen by—”
“No,” Daleina said. “We make our stand in Mittriel. I want every soldier, every champion, and every candidate positioned at the northern edge of the city.”
Chancellor Quisala gasped. “But the border towns! You can’t—”
Daleina cut her off. “We must. Naelin, how far can you reach?”
Naelin didn’t move from the window. “No more than two miles from the northern border of the city. Keep them within that line, and I can do it.”
“Who’s she?” Champion Piriandra demanded. “I don’t take orders from a candidate.”
“She’s my heir,” Daleina said.
Champion Piriandra began shouting, as did Chancellor Isolek and Quisala. It wasn’t done! The trials had to be held! She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—she didn’t—
When they finally took a breath, Headmistress Hanna spoke. “She has proven herself to you?”
“She has,” Daleina said.
“Then that is sufficient for me.” Hanna quelled the others with a look. After all, she had decades of experience training and evaluating potential heirs. She surmised that this was why Daleina had requested her presence, to lend credibility to the queen’s decision. “This is not a time to be without an heir. A trial now would be both a luxury and a foolish risk, and there are no other suitable candidates. It is Naelin or no one.”
The others fell silent. Piriandra visibly swallowed back whatever she planned to say. “Champion Piriandra”—Daleina turned to her—“I appoint you to lead the champions and their candidates. You are one of our most experienced champions.”
Straightening her shoulders, Champion Piriandra said stiffly, “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I may not be your best choice. My misjudgment has cost two candidates their lives.”
“I can’t speak to the first candidate’s fate, but as to the second . . .”
Hanna saw the queen hesitate.
Ven spoke for her. “She was murdered, Piriandra. We believe your candidate Beilena was killed by an agent of Semo, on orders from Queen Merecot.”
“Her death was not your fault,” Daleina said.