Daleina leaned out the window and looked across the canopy, across Aratay. The enemy was close enough to see: a thickness in the air, like a fog that hung heavily over the forest. It was a wall that advanced toward them. She wanted to strike at it.
“There’s a new mountain.” Daleina pointed. A peak, or the shadow of one, rose out of the swirling swarm. Merecot’s changing our land. My land.
“We’ll fix it,” Naelin said. Her voice was kind—she must have seen, or guessed, at Daleina’s feelings. “After the killing and the dying will come the cleaning and the recovering.”
“You can’t be looking forward to that part?” Ven looked incredulous, like Naelin had just told him that she didn’t like his beard. Daleina wondered if he felt fear, underneath all his casual bravery. He must. She wondered if he was hiding it for her sake or his own.
“You can stop trying to glorify battle,” Naelin told him. “I won’t like it, no matter how exhilarating you claim it is. It’s better to avoid a fight than win one. Even Queen Merecot doesn’t want a fight. That’s why she used Alet.”
Daleina widened her eyes. “You’re right,” she gasped. Queen Merecot didn’t want to destroy Aratay; she wanted to rule it. Daleina had realized that when she’d looked at the map with the chancellors. She’d known it when she’d invited the refugees into the palace. But she hadn’t fully followed the thought to its logical conclusion. Merecot wanted to become Queen of Aratay as well as Semo. To do that, she needed to claim both the capital and the spirits. “You need to go to the grove. Now.”
Both Naelin and Ven stared at her.
“What?” Naelin said.
“We aren’t leaving you,” Ven said simultaneously.
Naelin nodded. “Your Majesty, we’re here to defend you.”
“The attack. The grand entrance. Why is she doing this?” Daleina didn’t wait for them to answer her. Up until today, Daleina had assumed that Merecot didn’t know about her illness—all her strategy had been based on that assumption—but of course Merecot knew about it. She’d caused it. Merecot had always been stronger—in a head-to-head battle, it would take all of Daleina’s strength and cleverness to keep her out of the city, which Merecot knew. She was trying to force Daleina to use all her power to defend her capital—she was trying to trigger a false death. And she’d had Alet kill off any candidates who could take the crown. Oh, Alet, how could you? Sister or not, queen or not, you should have refused her! “It’s brilliant. She didn’t bring her spirits and soldiers to conquer the city. She brought them to protect it.”
Ven pointed out the window at the approaching storm of spirits. “That’s an invasion.”
“Yes, now. But when I fall . . . She plans to use the invasion to force me to trigger a false death, and in the midst of the chaos, she will walk into the Queen’s Grove. She’ll try to crown herself, during the invasion, not after! And the people will support her because, in the meantime, her spirits will be saving them. She wins the power, the land, the spirits, the people—everything she ever wanted—all at once.” Which meant there was one way to outsmart her. One way to win. Daleina fixed both of them with the fiercest expression she could. “She doesn’t know Alet failed to kill you. You have to stop her. Go to the grove. Now.”
“What will you do?” Naelin said.
“I will be queen, for as long as I can.”
Naelin hated to use the air spirits for travel, but she saw little choice. Reaching out, she beckoned to one. Fly with us. She didn’t make it a command. As Daleina had taught her, she tempted instead—she picked a restless spirit, one that didn’t like being held at the border, and reeled it in like a fish on a line. It came eagerly. Climbing onto the window ledge, she held her hand out to Ven. “You’ll like this part,” she told him.
He raised his eyebrows. “We jump?”
“Yes,” she said, and leaped from the window, yanking him with her. For one terrifying, exhilarating minute, she plummeted, and then the air spirit was there. She thudded onto its back. Ven landed diagonal with her and quickly righted himself. He helped her sit upright and wrapped his arms around her stomach.
“See, I think you secretly crave adventure,” Ven said, “but you think you shouldn’t.” She could hear the forced lightness in his voice—inside, she knew he was twisted with worry. They were leaving their queen.
She forced lightness into her voice too. “Oh? You know me so well now?”
“Yes.” His voice was warm in her ear. “Right now, you are trying to decide whether it would be worth the risk of my falling if you were to elbow me for being obnoxious.”
Naelin couldn’t help herself: she laughed. “You’re just trying to distract me from being afraid.” She twisted to look at him. Seated on the air spirit behind her, he was very close, less than an inch away. “Thank you,” she said, and then she kissed him.
He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her back, deeply, sweetly. The wind raced around them, and she felt the air spirit skim the tops of the trees. The first rays of sunrise spread across the leaves, lighting them in green and gold.
Pulling back, she directed the spirit, Lower. Don’t be seen.
The spirit dropped. They raced through the trees. She saw them in a blur: a smear of green, a flash of brown. As they flew faster and faster, the colors ran together as if the forest were melting around her. A twig hit her ankle, and it stung as it broke the skin.
Behind her, she felt the foreign spirits cross into her range. They felt like oil poured into water. They slid through her awareness like a shiver through her body.
“Are you ready?” Ven asked.
Her answer surprised even her. “Yes.”
Ahead was the grove.
Champion Piriandra heard the Semoian spirits before she saw them. They sounded like a storm, the kind that snapped sturdy oaks in half, the kind that ripped houses out of their branches, the kind that flattened plants that had withstood a hundred rains. She attached a clip to the wire path and pushed off, sailing between the trees. “Be ready!” she shouted to the soldiers below. To the candidates, she called, “Hold them still! Our spirits are your arrows; you are the taut bow! On my mark!”
Ahead the wire ended. Still flying through the air, Piriandra reached up and unclipped. She fell, and then landed on a platform below in a crouch. Drawing her sword, she faced the coming storm. “Keep your line! Hold steady!”
Through the trees, she glimpsed the largest earth spirit she’d ever seen: a hulking mass of mud and rocks. On its back rode a woman with black hair and a crown of crystal spikes.
Queen Merecot of Semo.
She was positioned behind the foreign spirits and invading soldiers, out of reach of any arrows. Riding back and forth behind her troops, she was shouting—
“Be ready!” Piriandra shouted to the other champions.