That would be worth dying for.
Merecot’s air spirits were holding back Naelin’s water spirits, keeping them from the flames, so Naelin called to her earth kraken again. She called the earth to rise up and swallow the flames in dirt and rock.
As the fire died, Merecot’s attention shifted back to Naelin. Raising her arms, Queen Merecot directed her spirits directly at Naelin—
And then Merecot collapsed.
Chapter 37
Naelin stared at Merecot’s unconscious body, sprawled across the roots, and then she looked up at Ven, who stood behind Queen Merecot with his sword raised. He’d hit her with the hilt of his sword.
She felt a smile, unbidden, bend her lips. The queen of Semo had been so focused on her own power, on the power of queens, that she hadn’t watched for a straightforward attack—well, as straightforward as it could be, coming from behind. “Thank you, Ven,” Naelin said. She put every bit of emotion into those three words: everything she felt for Aratay, for her children, for herself, for him.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for distracting her.” He smiled back at her, and it felt like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. She felt as though she should hear singing. She suddenly and inexplicably wanted to laugh.
She sent her spirits to disperse the smoke and squelch the remnants of the fire. The spirits of Semo rustled at the edges of the grove—hemmed in by the spirits of Aratay. She felt the spirits of Aratay holding the spirits of Semo throughout the city.
Closing her eyes, she reached out—she felt/saw Daleina rise and summon air spirits. All of them climbed on: Daleina, Hamon, Erian, Llor, and the wolf Bayn, and they flew. Come, Naelin sent the thought to them. To the Queen’s Grove.
We come, Daleina answered back. The words reverberated through the spirits. Naelin couldn’t see into Daleina’s mind, but she could hear her through the spirits. She could hear her because the spirits could.
“The queen . . . she’s not dead,” Naelin said. Her throat hurt as she spoke, but she said the words anyway. “Erian and Llor . . . they’re alive. We’re alive.” In two steps, she reached Ven. He wrapped his arms around her, tight, and she wound hers around him.
They were kissing when the air spirits arrived.
Queen Daleina had tree spirits wrap Merecot in vines. She was still unconscious, but Hamon said she would wake soon. Bind her tight, Daleina thought.
Bayn sat next to Merecot, his heavy paws on the queen’s stomach, holding her down. When the spirits finished, she nodded her thanks to them and the wolf, and then looked up at the others. Ven stood beside Naelin—he’d been displaced by her children but still hovered close to her. “You’re alive and using your power,” Ven said to Daleina. “Does this mean . . . Are you . . .”
“She’s healed,” Hamon confirmed. “My mother made that antidote. She doesn’t make mistakes. I will test the queen’s blood as soon as this is all over, but I have no doubt.” His voice was filled with all his old confidence.
Sagging, Ven exhaled. Relief was etched on his face, and Daleina noticed how tired he looked. He looked far older than he was, as if the last few hours had squeezed him like a dishrag. She felt the same way, but she refused to show it.
This wasn’t over yet.
“Your Majesty,” Naelin said. “I never intended to take your crown.” She tried to curtsy but couldn’t. Her children were clinging to her, draped around her neck like heavy necklaces. She looked battered from the battle she’d faced in the grove, but whole.
“You did not take it,” Daleina said. “The spirits still acknowledge me. They have embraced us both as their queen.” She managed a smile, despite the fact that her old friend lay bound at her feet, despite the fact that another friend had betrayed her and died for it.
“No country has ever had two queens. I’ll abdicate immediately.”
“No,” Ven said. “You’ll be killed.”
Her children began to wail. Daleina couldn’t remember their names, but she knew that sound. She’d heard it in her palace, in the city, as she’d woken from the False Death. She would hear it in her dreams. Consoling her children, Naelin said, “She can use her power again. She can keep me safe.”
“Until someone tries to kill her again,” Ven said.
Daleina saw Naelin hesitate—uncertainty was written clearly on her face. Her arms were tight around her children’s shoulders. Both children had quieted and were still clinging, whimpering softly, to their mother.
“Don’t abdicate. Not yet,” Daleina said. “Aratay may still need you.”
“You mean because of her.” Naelin nodded at Merecot.
Lying there, she looked so much like the friend Daleina remembered. A few years older. But her face was the same. Not the face of a killer. Oh, Merecot. “She had me poisoned.” Daleina tried to understand how she could have done it, how anyone could kill a friend. “She’d always been ambitious, but I never thought . . . I never suspected . . .”
“You could eliminate the threat,” Hamon said softly. “Now and forever. It could be painless. She’d never need to wake.”
“If you kill her, her people will suffer,” Naelin warned.
That was true. The spirits of Semo would go rogue, and then everyone would suffer. “I’m not going to kill her,” Daleina said. I don’t kill friends. “Her spirits are in our land. I don’t want them going rogue here, and I don’t want her crown.” It was hard enough to be responsible for all of Aratay. The last thing she wanted was more lives on her conscience.
“You could take it,” Ven said to Naelin. “Give up Aratay and take control of Semo. I could kill her for you. Daleina, you would not have to watch.” There was a look in his eyes that belied his words. He looked as if his words were poison on his tongue. He doesn’t want to kill her, Daleina thought. But he would, if his queens asked.
The little boy gasped. “Killing’s wrong!”
“Shh,” the little girl said. And then she hugged her brother.
Daleina looked down at Merecot, who was beginning to stir. Her head rocked to the side, and she groaned. She’d caused so much damage, both through her sister, Alet, and with her army. Daleina knew she should be angry. But she only felt sad. “The boy’s right.”
“Daleina, she tried to kill you,” Hamon said. His voice was still soft, but she heard the anger in it. Anger and fear. “She did kill others. She could kill again.”
“A healer advocating death?” Daleina fixed her eyes on him and noticed how worn he looked, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, as if he’d spent every waking moment worrying and working . . . He had, she thought. For me. “That’s your mother talking.” She said it gently but firmly.
He blanched and fell silent.