The Reluctant Queen Read online

  “Have you come to watch me bleed?” she asked, keeping her voice even, calm.

  It giggled, a shrill sound like wind through a narrow hole. She hadn’t had a spirit visit her chambers before. Usually they kept their distance, afraid of being compelled to obey another order. “I have come to watch you die,” it said.

  The words felt like claws in her skin. It was rare that the spirits spoke directly to her, especially uninvited. For an instant, it was hard to breathe. She wanted to send it away—force it away—but she didn’t dare use her power. “How do you know?”

  “Whispers through the woods.”

  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.

  “Any of the guard can watch her door,” Alet said as if reading his doubt. “You know as well as I do that Aratay needs a decent heir as quickly as possible. Queens don’t lead safe lives, with or without any sickness.”

  Studying her, he considered it. Last time, with Daleina, he’d taken a healer with him to train her—Healer Hamon—but he’d never considered taking another warrior. He’d meant what he said: he worked alone. But Alet was one of the finest fighters he’d ever seen, and that could be invaluable. He’d met her while he was hunting the spirits who’d killed his former candidate, the heir Sata. She’d been the one who’d revealed Queen Fara’s treachery. Later, Ven had found Alet in ceremonial armor, standing guard in an inconsequential portrait room, and she’d informed him that her skills were being wasted. He’d spoken with her commander, who had said she was there as punishment—she’d bested several of the old-timers in a practice bout and hadn’t had the courtesy to salute them. Ven had told the commander precisely what he thought of that—adding a few colorful bruises in as punctuation—and the next day, Alet had been assigned to active duty. When Queen Daleina took up residence in the pala
ce, she selected Alet to guard her and had her promoted to the rank of captain.

  And yet now she wanted to leave that very post.

  “Why do you want to do this?”

  “Queen Daleina wants an heir.”

  “And?” Ven waited.

  “And I don’t want to watch her die.” Alet didn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the empty throne. “Call it cowardly if you want, but it’s the truth.”

  But he would never say that. How could he call it cowardly when he felt the same way? He made the decision in an instant. “Very well. Our first step is to select a candidate.”

  “Do you have one in mind?”

  “I thought I’d start with Northeast Academy. It’s where I found Daleina.” And where Queen Fara trained as well.

  “Sounds promising. Lead on.”

  He strode to the stairs. Behind him, Alet followed, her feet as silent on the steps as a cat’s paws. Now that he was taking action, he felt better. Dwelling on the capriciousness of fate wouldn’t help Daleina. His queen was facing death without an heir. He couldn’t fix the first part, but he could fix the second—and he would.

  Halfway down the stairs, he jumped from the steps onto the nearest tree. He landed on a branch, and it bowed under his weight. Balancing himself, he ran over the branch. Beside him, Alet leaped from a thicker branch and landed on a narrower one, running lightly across it, ahead of Ven. Heavier, Ven chose one of the ropes and swung past her. She sped up, jumping from limb to limb, and so did he. For those brief moments, Ven felt the wind on his face and allowed his mind to empty of all thoughts.

  At last, they reached their destination. With a powerful leap, Ven hurled his body toward the top of the school, where the bells hung to call the students to class. He caught himself on a limb.

  Six old trees wound together to comprise the training school, their bark fused into a tower. They’d been grown as a fortress to defend against air spirits and had evolved into a school for those gifted with mastery over more than one kind of spirit, one of several such schools in Aratay. Far below, within the circle of wood, on the forest floor, the practice circle was shielded by layers of leaves. A few figures darted up and down the spiral stairs.

  This was where he’d found Daleina.

  This was where he’d find his new candidate. He hoped.

  He’d only visited a few times since Daleina had been crowned. He’d meant to be more involved, but he’d become absorbed in overseeing security at the palace, as well as recruiting and training a new champion. With his Daleina on the throne, he hadn’t wanted to think about candidates or trials or heirs yet. Shortsighted and stupid, he thought. But he’d rectify that.

  “Shall we, or would you prefer to brood for longer?” Alet asked. Without waiting for an answer, she scampered from branch to branch like a squirrel, down the interior of the tree. He took the stairs, watching Alet as she swung and twisted and leaped and flipped her way down to the forest floor. Reaching the bottom, he felt a twinge in his knees after so many stairs, while Alet looked unwinded and fresh. She didn’t comment on this, though from the twinkle in her eye, he was certain she’d noticed. This might have been a mistake. Together, they strode into the practice circle.

  Many of the students and teachers were there, and he was pleased to see the headmistress was present as well. Headmistress Hanna was an older woman with startlingly white hair and impeccable posture who had governed this school for as long as Ven could remember. She chose every teacher, determined every schedule, and supervised every student with the attention of a general to an army. He bowed to her as he reached her.

  “Ah, Champion Ven! We did not expect you.” She clasped his hands and kissed his cheeks, right, then left. She was smiling, a rarity, and the bruise-like circles that used to be under her eyes had faded.

  “You look well, headmistress,” he said. “May I present Captain Alet, member of the royal guard?”

  Alet bowed, and the headmistress inclined her head before turning back to Ven. “You haven’t been to visit in a while.” It was a motherly reproach, and he winced appropriately. “What brings you here today?”

  He didn’t mince words, not with her. “I came to choose a candidate.”

  She studied his face for a moment. Last time, when Sata had died, he’d only chosen a candidate because the headmistress had pressured him, but that had been a different time, when he was in disgrace with the reigning queen. He tried to keep his face neutral and hoped she didn’t guess the real reason he was here. He respected her, but after Fara’s death, he didn’t trust her. She’d do what she thought was right for Aratay, damn the consequences. “Our girls were about to practice their control. You can watch them.” Hooking her arm through Ven’s, she guided him toward the students. “Of course, none are up to the caliber of dear Daleina, but I think you’ll be pleased at how nicely they’re coming along. I am certain that whomever you choose will blossom under your tutelage.” He couldn’t detect any sarcasm in her voice, even though Daleina had been far from the best student. She’d aced all of her academic classes but had floundered in summoning—the one area that really mattered here. But maybe her words weren’t for his benefit—she was rewriting the narrative of Daleina’s history for the benefit of her academy. He let her.

  With Alet, he positioned himself at the edge of the practice circle. There were twenty-four students, all in soft leather uniforms, with their hair tied back and faces smudged with dirt and sweat—he’d interrupted the middle of practice. So few? he wondered.

  At the headmistress’s command, each student took a turn summoning one of the smaller, weaker spirits that lived in the mosses and fountains and breezes. They attempted to set it on a task, such as fetching a leaf or stirring the wind. When they failed, a teacher would step in and banish the spirits.

  “Ven, they’re children.” Alet’s voice was a whisper.

  Looking at them, really looking at them, he felt his heart lurch. She’s right, he thought. Nearly all of them were first and second years, no more than sixteen years old. All of these girls had been sent here by their families because they’d displayed mastery over more than one spirit. Girls who could only influence one spirit stayed at home and were apprenticed to local hedgewitches—they would grow to be valuable to their community—but the hope was that these girls would grow to be valuable to the realm. The problem was, they weren’t done growing.

  It’s more than just a problem, Ven realized. It’s a disaster.

  “Headmistress Hanna, where are the older students?”

  “Already chosen, or gone,” came the answer. “After the coronation, we had an influx of champions looking for new candidates, and an exodus of students who wanted a less dangerous life. These are the students who remain.”

  The afternoon wore on, until each of the girls had demonstrated her so-called skills more than once with a variety of spirits. Ven’s heart sank further and further.

  At last, the headmistress approached him. “You don’t look pleased, Champion Ven.”

  “That’s his normal expression,” Alet said.

  The headmistress flashed her a brief smile. “I am aware of our favorite champion’s temperament, guardswoman. Come, Champion Ven, what did you expect after the coronation took our best and brightest?” Her voice held an edge, and Ven briefly wondered if she blamed him, but then he dismissed the thought. No one could have predicted what had happened on Coronation Day, when the spirits turned on the heirs instead of crowning one. He still didn’t know how Daleina had triumphed that day. She never spoke of it.

  Quietly, he asked, “Do any have ability with all the spirits?”

  “Of course, Champion Ven, they all do, or will. Anyone who fails their level’s basic aptitude tests is immediately sent home. None of the current students have reached mastery levels yet, but they are hard workers, and I believe you will see their potential.”

  He turned back to the practice circle without replying. A young girl was knocked flat on her back by an ea
rth spirit no larger than a mole. It launched itself at her ankle, biting her before one of the teachers stepped in.

  I can’t do it. He’d be leading them to slaughter. At least Daleina and the other young women had all been fully trained by the time the trials began.

  He turned his attention to the teachers, hoping against hope to see the right spark of power there. These women were older, experienced, but none had mastery of all the spirits, or even the potential for it. Most were only adept with one, which was why there were so many masters on the field. One (or more) for each kind of spirit: air, earth, water, wood, ice, and fire. They took turns teaching and protecting the students, and their training was rigorous but effective—this school had produced several queens over the years, including Queen Daleina and the current queen of Semo, in the northern mountains, who had switched countries in the middle of her training. Reports indicated she was well suited for Semo, since her greatest affinity was to earth spirits, and the mountains housed as many of those as Aratay had wood spirits. But the potential for greatness didn’t solve his immediate problem.

  “Who are you going to choose?” Alet asked. “The redheaded one shows promise.” She pointed to a wiry girl who was practicing a sword pattern in one corner of the training field.

  Ven grunted. The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen. She was all gangly bones and new muscle. Her lips were pressed into a determined line. “She has focus,” he admitted. But was that enough? He’d chosen Daleina because of her determination. He’d known from the instant he met her that she would make a good queen. No, a great queen.

  And she would have, he thought. She would have been one of our greatest. If she’d had time. His fists were clenched. Consciously, he loosened them and shook his hands out. That was, indeed, the problem: time. There wasn’t enough time to grow any of these girls into the woman that the land needed.

  Abruptly, he turned and stalked out of the practice circle, across the entrance foyer, and out of the academy. He heard Alet following him. Only when he was far enough that he couldn’t hear either the girls or their teachers did he stop.