She nodded. She should have expected as much. The spirits could communicate with one another the same way she could communicate with them. She’d been lucky that she’d woken in the grove before word of her supposed death had spread any farther. “I will not let you hurt my people,” she informed the spirit.
Suddenly, the tree spirit was beside her, so fast that she hadn’t seen it move. It smelled like rotting wood, split apart in the rain. It smiled with its sharklike teeth, and it stroked her cheek with one finger, lightly, even tenderly. “We will not hurt them . . . while you live.”
“And when I die?” She didn’t mean to ask the question. She knew the answer. But it came out of her all the same.
The wood spirit didn’t answer. It only laughed again, and then it sprinted for the window and was outside the same instant a knock sounded on her chamber door. She stared at the open window, at the green outside.
Another knock.
Reaching for a blanket, she tossed it over her leg, hiding the wound. She winced as the fabric touched her. “Captain Alet, who is it?”
“Healer Hamon is here to see you.” It was another guard who answered, not Captain Alet. She recognized his voice, though couldn’t remember his name.
“Let him in,” Daleina commanded. “And please spread the word that Healer Hamon should always be allowed in.” The last thing she needed was any delay in her healer reaching her. She wondered where Alet was.
Hamon entered and closed the door behind him. Relaxing, she removed the blanket. Cool air touched the raw flesh. Wordless, he crossed to her with a basin of water and a washcloth. She flinched as he began to clean the wound again.
Not looking at her, he said, “I will find a cure.”
“There is no cure, Hamon.” She knew her voice sounded tired, but she didn’t bother to try to change it. Not with Hamon. He’d seen her at her worst and come back—she didn’t have to pretend with him. “What we need is a way to predict when I will experience the false deaths. If spirits are near when it happens, or worse, linked to me, if they know I’m”—she couldn’t bring herself to say “dead”—“out, then more people will die. We need to minimize the deaths until an heir is found. Buy as much time as we can.”
“And find a cure.”
“Don’t lie to me, Hamon,” she said gently. “It’s only you and me here. No one has ever recovered from the False Death. We don’t even know what causes it!” She knew it had to be tearing him up inside, that he couldn’t fix her. He was a healer because he had a need to fix the broken. She treasured that about him. Studying his face, the set of his shoulders, the steadiness of his hands as he rebandaged her leg, she thought that wasn’t entirely accurate. She treasured him, and she had never told him. She only pushed him away and let him push her away after Queen Fara died. They hadn’t found their way back to each other. If her time was precious, she would make sure those other things that were precious to her weren’t neglected anymore.
His face was earnest. “I would never lie to you, my queen.”
“You lie to me every day, and I to you.” She ever so gently pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened in surprise. She’d been the one to say things would change, after they killed Queen Fara, and she’d been right. But maybe it was time for things to change again. “Make me remember that I’m still alive?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He gently wrapped his arms around her, and this time, when she kissed him, he kissed her back. She tasted his tears on her lips.
Chapter 4
As the other champions filed out of the chamber, Ven laid his hand on the queen’s throne. Like the chairs, the wood was alive. Living leaves curled over the top, and branches were woven into patterns on the back. He had been so very proud of her in the moment she’d broken the news that broke their hearts. She had held herself like a true queen. He had no doubt she’d summoned them within minutes of learning the news herself. Before she’d allowed herself to grieve, she’d considered her people first and what her death would mean to them.
Her death . . . such an ugly phrase. On any day, at any hour of her training, Daleina could have fallen, killed by the spirits she sought to control, but he’d never let himself believe it would happen. After Sata’s death, she was his bright hope for the future. And now . . . “How is she?” he asked out loud.
“Not well,” a woman’s voice said—Captain Alet, the queen’s guard. She’d entered quietly, but Ven had heard her. “Seven men and women died during the ritual. She lost control of the spirits.”
Hearing that made him feel as if he’d aged a decade in one day. With Queen Fara, he’d been afraid she was losing control and then discovered the truth was worse. Daleina had sworn no deaths of innocents during her reign—their deaths must have torn her up inside. “She didn’t speak of that.”
Alet didn’t reply.
“Is she in pain?”
“One of the spirits was chewing on her leg when she woke. And then she climbed those ludicrous stairs without any consideration for her wounds. So I would say yes, she is in pain, but she will deny it until she can’t. You taught her well.”
He wondered if he should go to her. She’d given an order, but there were plenty of other champions who could find an heir, and she might need him with her.
On the other hand, what could he do? She doesn’t need pity; she needs action. And an impossible cure. Ven lifted his hand from the throne. “When you see the queen—”
“You’ll need to find someone else to send your message,” Alet interrupted. “I’m coming with you. You’re the best champion that Aratay has; you’re the most likely to find the next heir.”
“I work alone.”
“To be ready, your candidate will need to be trained faster than any ever before her, and having a second trainer will help.” She added, “You know I can best you in a fight.”
“You have a responsibility to Queen Daleina,” Ven objected. “And you could not best me.” It was more an automatic response, since he wasn’t one hundred percent certain that was true—he’d seen Alet in the practice circle. She was fast and skilled and also at least two decades younger than he was. He should be able to hold his own, but he wouldn’t bet on it.
Not that it changed his mind.