Daleina slid her robe off her shoulders, and it fell into a puddle of silk at her feet. “It has thirty-seven buttons, and I don’t want any caretakers with me today. I want my friend.”
She saw a muscle in Alet’s cheek twitch, nearly a smile, and Daleina smiled back. She held up her arms, and Alet dropped the dress over Daleina’s head. She felt as if she were wrapped in a cloud. The layers of skirts fluttered around her. Presenting her back to Alet, she faced the mirror while Alet buttoned her.
She’d need a touch of powder under her eyes to hide the signs of sleeplessness. She couldn’t let anyone suspect that she was at less than her full strength. In that, Queen Fara had been correct: the people didn’t want to think they had a weak queen. Perhaps add a bit of pink to her cheeks. She looked pale, sheathed in the shimmering white and gold. “Regal or sickly?” Daleina asked.
Stepping back, Alet surveyed her. “You look ethereal.”
Daleina rolled her eyes. She’d never been described as “ethereal” in her life. “Just tell me if I need paint or powder.”
“Neither. You’re lovely, and the people should see your loveliness.”
“You’re in the oddest mood today, Alet.” Daleina faced the mirror again and frowned. The sight of the queen on her first celebratory appearance should comfort the people and set the correct tone for the rest of the celebration. She shouldn’t have allowed the dressmakers to add so many layers of skirt or to leave her arms bare. She felt both exposed and confined. Spinning in a slow circle, she watched herself in the mirror.
Quietly, Alet asked, “Have you blacked out again, Your Majesty, since the last time?”
She halted. Yes, she had, alone in her bath last night. “Not once,” she lied. “It must have been a fluke. But Master Hamon will find answers. He has my complete confidence—and six vials of my blood, which should be more than enough to run every test he can think of.”
“You could postpone this until—”
“Enough, Alet. If you’re trying to shake my confidence, you’re doing a very good job of it.” Leaving the mirror, Daleina crossed to her jewelry box. She selected a simple necklace, delicate leaves carved out of wood and strung on a ribbon of silk. It had been a gift from her family, after she’d been crowned. Her mother had whittled the leaves, and her sister had woven the ribbon. Coming behind her, Alet took the necklace.
Holding her hair up, Daleina let Alet clasp it around her throat. Alet then took a brush and brushed Daleina’s hair until it cascaded smoothly over her shoulders and back. Neither of them spoke, until a bell chimed outside.
“Be strong, milady,” Alet said. “Half your chancellors think you’re foolish to interact with spirits without an heir ready. But then again, half your chancellors are too afraid to venture beyond their chambers.”
“And the other half?”
“Already in the trees, ready to cheer your victory.”
Daleina turned to face Alet. “And where will you be?”
Alet’s expression didn’t alter. “Right here, waiting for you to return.”
Embracing her, Daleina pressed her cheek to Alet’s cheek. The hilt of one of Alet’s knives dug into her ribs, but Daleina ignored it. It felt good to have a friend again, as if the friends she’d lost—Linna, Revi, Mari, Zie, Iondra—were all still with her somehow, carried on by Alet. “If I were sentimental, I’d say you were sent to comfort me.”
“If you were sentimental, I wouldn’t like you half as much.”
Releasing her, Daleina laughed.
“Go,” Alet said. “Show them all what it truly means to be queen.”
Queen Daleina of Aratay swept onto the balcony. Hidden in her hair were pins to help keep her crown firmly on her head, and hidden in her bodice was Champion Ven’s knife to help keep her head firmly on her neck. As she emerged, she heard the cheers from her people, who filled every available branch in all directions. Their voices blended into the wind and blew into her. She felt as if she were breathing in their love, or at least their enthusiasm. Raising one hand, she smiled at them, and they cheered louder.
Very nice, she thought. Now go away.
Carefully and deliberately, she blocked them out—the sight of them, the sound of them—and she breathed, filling her lungs and then emptying them completely. She narrowed her focus to only that, her breath. Swallowing the wind, she tasted the air, sharp with pine. And then she walked forward, three steps to the lip of the balcony.
Collectively, the crowd fell silent. She felt their silence as a change in the wind, a shift of breath. Grown from the tree itself, the balcony jutted out far above the forest floor. It had no rail, only a delicate braid of living vines to decorate the edge.
Catch me. She sent the order flying like an arrow out of her mind and into the world. The moment the words left her, she flinched, even though she’d braced herself. It felt as if a strip of skin had been ripped from her body. Before the coronation, she hadn’t had the power to issue a command that broad and expect to be obeyed. She’d had to trick, redirect, and coax the spirits as if they were uncooperative toddlers, but now she was expected to use the power the spirits had given her. She didn’t like it, but she wasn’t about to let anyone see that.
She stepped onto the air.
The wind shrieked in her ears as she plummeted. She closed her eyes, stretched her arms wide, and focused on the feel of the air slapping her. Catch me! She put all the force of her mind into the command, devoid of doubt, of fear, of any emotion. She would be obeyed. Now!
Shrieking like the wind, the air spirits whipped around her. Opening her eyes, she saw their faces, translucent with empty eye sockets and pointed teeth. They reached for her with pale multi-jointed fingers, and they caught her dress, each layer spread out until she looked like a glittering cloud.
Lift me, she ordered.
She felt their hands on her back, rotating her until she stood upright on the backs of one of them. Rising up, she tilted her face toward the canopy of leaves above and did not think about how close to the forest floor she’d come. The people in the branches were cheering again, and the air spirits snarled and swiped at them.
Do not hurt them.
Hissing, the spirits retracted their claws. A few dug their claws into the fabric of her dress, and she felt the tips on her flesh, but they did not pierce her hard enough to bleed.
Higher.