Queen to queen.
She rose and felt as if her body were somehow larger than it was. She felt as if she were connected to the trees, the earth, the air, in a way that went beyond the metaphorical. Her breath was the sky. Her blood was the sap in the trees. Her heart was within the earth, deep down. She was Aratay. And Queen Merecot was an interloper. For all her spirits, she did not belong here. But Naelin did. She was the trees, the rocks, the air, the streams. She was mother to this earth.
Walking forward, Naelin felt as if she were gliding. Raising her hands, she called tree spirits to her, and they parted the trees to open the grove.
Standing on the backs of two air spirits, the queen of Semo flew into the grove. Three fire spirits flew behind her, sparks landing on the grasses and moss. Naelin sent her own spirits, only a few, to douse the flames.
Queen Merecot was young, as young as Queen Daleina, with black hair that flowed in the wind and a dress that shone like the sun. One white streak of hair gleamed beneath her crown. Like the streak in Alet’s hair. Clasping her hands in front of her, Naelin waited for her to be close enough and then she said, “Welcome to Aratay.”
Her words were echoed by spirits. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
She added, “And now I must ask you to leave.”
Leave, leave, leave.
Queen Merecot’s face twisted in a flash of anger and then smoothed into a peaceful smile. She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that comes from complete confidence. She radiated strength and youth and conviction. “Please, step aside.”
“I cannot.” Naelin almost felt sorry for her. She looked like a woman who had never heard no, who had never failed, who had never met anyone stronger than she was. Until today.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Sincerity dripped from her tongue, but Naelin didn’t believe her. The spirits whispered, Lies, lies, lies. “I do not want to hurt anyone. I never did.”
“Then don’t,” Naelin said reasonably. “Stop this war.”
“I must have Aratay,” Queen Merecot said. “My people need this land.”
“And what of my people?” She’s only a child, Naelin thought. A child who wanted more toys than she had. She shook her head. “You may try. You will fail. You’re on my land, facing the spirits who belong here. You cannot win.” She could feel all the spirits, swirling inside her head, tingling on her skin. She’d never imagined it would feel so exhilarating, or so wonderful.
“Queen Daleina would understand what I have done and what I must do. I have responsibilities, to my people and to my land. I have sworn to protect them and nurture them, and this is the only way.” She sounded as if she thought what she said was reasonable, as if she thought she could talk Naelin into surrendering Aratay. “We will not survive as we are. There are too many spirits in Semo. The mountains—they rise and they fall. We must expand, or my people will die. It’s nothing personal; it never was. Daleina’s my dearest friend, but my people need this land. They’ll die without it.”
“You cannot have Aratay,” Naelin said. “It’s not yours. It’s mine.” Mine to protect. Mine to love. Like Erian and Llor. She’d claimed all the people, the spirits, the rocks and trees and streams as her children.
Queen Merecot narrowed her eyes, but Naelin was ready. When her spirits flew at her, she had her own fly to meet them. Air met air. Fire met fire. Wood met wood. And beneath the earth, the kraken reached the grove. Its hands burst through the rock and seized the earth spirits that were creeping behind Naelin.
Hold them, Naelin ordered. Do not kill.
Queen Merecot didn’t deserve to have her land’s spirits killed. Her people certainly didn’t deserve that. She would—
“Attack!” Queen Merecot ordered.
Lightning slammed into the ground, and fire swept in a circle around Naelin. The earth buckled and split, and Naelin screamed as she plummeted into a crevasse. She reached out with her mind, and three air spirits swept under her, catching her, but Merecot’s air spirits dove into them, wrestling them away. Naelin was knocked against the side of the crevasse.
Hands made out of dirt reached from the soil and clamped onto Naelin’s wrists. She felt a tree root snake around her throat and begin to tighten. She reached for her own spirits—but they felt so distant, like whispers.
She’s too strong, Naelin realized.
I’m going to die.
As the root squeezed her neck, she thought of her children. She’d sworn to protect them, yet here she was, miles away from them, trapped.
Black spots swam in front of her eyes.
She called to the earth kraken and felt him move within the earth, felt him grapple with the spirits of Semo, felt him try to reject them from his land. She called to the water spirits to loosen the soil around the tree. She called to her tree spirits to force the root to release her. But Merecot’s command of her spirits was absolute.
I’m sorry, Erian. I’m sorry, Llor. I love you. She wished they could hear her, that she could see them one more time. Darkness rose like a shadow over her eyes. This wasn’t how she wanted to end. She thought of Ven and how he’d believed in her . . . I’m sorry.
And then darkness.
Black nothingness.
Emptiness.
She floated through silence, her thoughts fragmenting, her self unraveling. She was a cloud dispersing in the sky. Water evaporating in the sun. Snow melting in the spring. Death was here to embrace her.
Naelin heard—no, she felt a voice. Distant. Soft. Sweet. Like the first touch of sunrise. “There is another queen,” the voice whispered. She suddenly felt as if she were split, and she was looking out at a tower, at the face of a healer, at . . . Erian and Llor! They were there, peering down at her. No, not her. At . . . Queen Daleina? Was she . . .
The root around her neck loosened.
Only a little, but it was enough.
Air rushed down her throat. Pain blossomed in her head, and she was back in her body, awake, alive. She pushed again toward her spirits. Free me!
The air spirits dove for her, and earth spirits gnawed at the root around her. She fell into the feathery arms of a spirit and was lifted up out of the chasm.
The grove was on fire. Flames roared through the trees, and smoke choked the air. Merecot had ringed herself with Semoian spirits and was calling more to her. Naelin saw the air around the other queen was clear, and she called her own air spirits to her, blowing fresh air through the smoke. She breathed, air rushing painfully down her throat.
Queen Merecot was facing away from Naelin, toward the capital, toward the palace, toward Naelin’s children. “Leave them alone!” Naelin cried. “You fight me!” She wasn’t as well trained as Merecot, but she was strong, and this time she was ready—she could buy Daleina time, enough time to protect Erian and Llor, perhaps enough to save Aratay.