And then . . . And then . . . they did not fail.
Garnah looked up from the microscope. “Arin? Use your young eyes and tell me if you see what I see.”
She looked, and her breath caught in her throat. “I see what you see.” Her heart was pounding fast. She wiped her hands on her skirt and tried to keep herself calm. “Will this work?”
“We won’t know until we try it,” Garnah said.
“But if she—”
“We don’t need to try it on the queen.” Garnah nodded toward the locked door. “But there are others in the palace, much closer by.”
Arin wanted to believe that Garnah wasn’t suggesting what she thought she was. “There’s no one out there except Daleina who has this illness.”
“Well, no one yet, but . . .” She gestured at the door that led to the hallway. “We should be able to find a spare guard or a caretaker or someone.”
Arin shook her head so hard that it made her dizzy. “No.”
“It needs to be tested. Working under a microscope is not the same as working in a human body. You must know that. You taste your cakes, right? You don’t simply hope your flavor combinations will taste right simply because you’ve followed the recipe right. All we do is infect a guard and then heal him—he’ll never know the difference.”
“Absolutely not. Daleina wouldn’t want this.”
“Your sister wants to live,” Garnah said. “Also, she doesn’t need to know.”
Outside the window, she heard a mighty crash. She ran to the window and peeled the curtain back. Jumping back, she clapped her hands over her mouth to stop a scream. Spirits! Everywhere! And people . . . Trees were falling. Massive trees, tilted against one another, and the gardens below had been ripped apart. Arin began to shake. She’d seen this before . . . when the old queen had died, when Josei had died, when everything was nearly destroyed, but now, here, in the palace . . .
“Pull yourself together, girl,” Garnah said.
“She’s lost control,” Arin said. “That’s why Bayn came for Hamon. She’s dead. False death. Not real death.” She couldn’t be really dead. Not Daleina. Not now, when they were so close! Arin ran for the antidote. “We have to do it.”
“Her body is weak, and the potion is potent. If it’s not right, it will most likely kill her permanently. You will only get one shot at this.”
“Then test it on me.” Pivoting toward the workbench, Arin grabbed the poison. Distantly, she noticed that Garnah wasn’t stopping her. In fact, Hamon’s mother was watching eagerly, her hands clasped as if she were about to receive the best present ever.
Arin tipped the test tube and poured the poison onto her tongue.
It tasted, she thought, like blackberries. And sugar.
She swallowed.
“Good,” Garnah said. She pressed the vial of antidote into Arin’s hand, and Arin drank it. “Very good.” She then handed a knife to Arin. “Now, bleed.”
Arin pressed the blade against her arm. Red welled up in a line. She held her arm over a plate of glass on the microscope. And she bled once more, for her sister.
Chapter 33
The Queen’s Grove.
Naelin had never expected to see this place. She’d never wanted to. Horrors had happened here. Directing the air spirit to set her down, she climbed off, along with Ven.
“You can do this,” Ven said.
She glanced at him. He was staring up at the trees as if they would crush him. He’d been here, she knew. He must have seen Queen Daleina walk out of the grove, after the massacre. He may have gone in and seen the bodies. “You can do this,” she told him.
His eyes widened for a second, and then he nodded.
At the edge of the trees, Ven hopped onto one of the broad roots and began to climb. “I’ll watch for Queen Merecot. Do you sense any spirits?”
She reached—inside it felt empty. Peaceful. Climbing over the roots, she squeezed between two tree trunks. In seconds, she was within the grove. Looking around, she was shocked at how beautiful it was. And serene. Morning light filtered through the leaves and spread across the mossy floor. An orange butterfly spiraled lazily over a flower. She walked forward, and her steps were muffled. She couldn’t hear any of the sounds from the city—the screams, the crashing, the cries, all of it faded.
Naelin reached out to touch the spirits. All of them were focused outward, facing the army from the north. They seethed like a storm. She couldn’t hear the queen’s orders, but she could feel the spirits’ reaction. Queen Daleina was using the spirits to attack from below, behind, above: water against fire, earth against ice, air against earth . . . She wasn’t attacking head-on; she was undermining the foreign spirits. “I think the queen is winning, or at least holding her own.” So far, she hadn’t triggered a false death. I hope I truly am ready, Naelin thought. She was slightly farther from the city border now than she had been, but the spirits were still within range. She could reach them, if and when she needed to.
Shielding her eyes, Naelin looked up at the trees. Ven had climbed high and was partially hidden within the branches. He’d taken a small telescope from his pocket and was looking north.
“Anything?” she called.
He lowered the telescope. “I feel as though I have run away from battle.”
“We were ordered away from it.” Within the circle of trees, sheltered from the rest of the forest, Naelin felt as if she’d been tucked away in a closet, like a family heirloom, for safekeeping. Here, the blue sky and the gentle wind that caressed the leaves seemed far removed from the chaos and destruction they’d left behind. “I think Queen Daleina lied to us, or else we misunderstood. Queen Merecot is focused on the capital—she’s not coming here, not until she’s conquered the capital.”
“Daleina knows Merecot. If she thinks—”
“I don’t think Queen Daleina sent us here to fight her. I think she sent us here to keep me safe.” Naelin could feel the battle like pinpricks on her skin. So far away. Yet close enough that she could still sense the spirits and, if she tried, still reach out and command them. “I am her backup plan.” If Queen Daleina continued to repel the invaders, it was likely that Queen Merecot and her army would never make it as far south as the grove. If not, if Queen Daleina suffered another false death . . . then Naelin would repel them from the safety of the grove. It was clever. The Semoians wouldn’t know who they were fighting if she was hidden here.
“It’s possible,” Ven conceded. “But she could—”
Apparently she couldn’t.
Naelin felt the moment that Daleina lost control. It felt like a glass vase rupturing, and her head filled with screams. Distantly, she heard Ven calling to her. She felt the wild glee/rage/hunger surge through her—