Llor shifted in her lap. “And me,” he said sleepily.
Ven laughed softly, a rumble that she felt through her back. “Triply lucky, for having found you, Erian, and Llor.”
“And the nice doggie too,” Llor said.
“Yes, Bayn too.”
The wolf raised his head and regarded them with his yellow eyes. He then scooted closer and lay his head across Naelin’s feet, as if he agreed with Ven and Llor.
Naelin hadn’t thought of it as luck, and she’d certainly never considered it good luck. Fate maybe? Or simply the convergence of many people’s choices, bringing them all to this grove, together.
Maybe it didn’t matter what they called it, chance or choice, as long as they were together.
She pulled Erian and Llor closer, feeling their warmth. She felt Ven behind her and Bayn at her feet—all of them, cocooning her, believing in her. And despite everything, she felt, for the first time in a long while, safe.
Chapter 38
White blossoms fell on fresh graves so often that the sweet smell wafted across Mittriel with the evening breeze, becoming as familiar as the scent of bread from the bakeries and sweat from the workers who were repairing the city.
Two days after Queen Merecot’s retreat to Semo, Queen Daleina presided over the funerals for Champion Piriandra and the other champions and candidates who had fallen. She spoke of their dedication and bravery and sacrifice, and she called to the spirits to cover the earth and fill the air with white flowers. A day later, she attended the funerals for the city and palace guards, as well as the caretakers and courtiers who had been killed by spirits. Again, more flowers. Then at the ruins of Northeast Academy, where Headmistress Hanna, who’d lost the use of her legs while defending her students, led a ceremony for the fallen students, teachers, and staff. After that, there was the memorial for the men, women, and children of Aratay—each family had their own private funeral, but Daleina wanted to honor her people and all their losses. At this, the petals were as plentiful as snow in a winter storm.
By the end of it, she was sick of death, sick of pain, and sick of tears. Grief and guilt felt like rain that had permeated every inch of her skin. She could not escape it. And still there was one more to be buried: Captain Alet.
No one wanted a funeral for Alet.
Except Daleina. And, to her surprise, Naelin. The other queen joined Daleina while she was arguing with a knot of chancellors in the Amber Throne Room.
All the chancellors bowed when Queen Naelin entered. She was followed closely by the seneschal, and Daleina was certain he had brought her here—he was intent on doing his duty to both queens. He was the one who had insisted that a second throne be set up on the dais. Borrowed from the Sunrise Room, its pastels were jarring in the somber, rich gold of the Amber Throne Room.
But then, everything about having two queens was jarring.
Naelin had yet to sit on her throne.
“Your Majesty . . .” one of the chancellors began, and then stopped as if uncertain how to continue—it was Chancellor Xanon, who had been pushing the most strenuously for Alet’s body to be shipped back to Semo in an unmarked crate.
“You were discussing the funeral for Captain Alet,” Naelin said. She had the skill of making a simple statement sound like a rebuke. Daleina admired that.
Chancellor Xanon looked, for an instant, like a toddler who had been caught with chocolate smeared on his face; then he composed himself. “She committed high treason. Surely such a criminal cannot be honored, nor mourned. Her death is a victory, not a tragedy.”
“Every death is a tragedy, Chancellor . . .” She let the name dangle.
“Xanon,” the chancellor supplied with another bow.
“She was our friend and our enemy, Chancellor Xanon,” Naelin said. “We will mourn our friend who was killed by our enemy. Surely you understand that a life is more complex than a label. We can love who she was while we hate what she’s done.”
“Well said,” Daleina murmured. She’d been searching for words like that for the better part of the last hour. She wondered briefly if Naelin was a better queen than she was. It doesn’t matter if she is, she thought. The spirits chose us both.
“But . . . but the people . . .” Chancellor Xanon stammered.
It was time to end this argument, as queens together. Daleina caught Naelin’s eye, then deliberately looked at the two thrones. Together, they both swept past the chancellors, climbed up to the dais, and sat side by side.
“The people can feel what they want to feel,” Daleina declared. “We will bury our friend.”
There were no more arguments.
That said, the funeral for Captain Alet was small.
Only Daleina, Naelin, Ven, and Hamon, plus Naelin’s children and the wolf, Bayn. Arin had offered to come, but Daleina had told her she didn’t have to—Arin had accepted the reprieve with relief. She was ready to move on from all the final farewells and go back to living.
Daleina couldn’t let go just yet though.
Alet’s body was wrapped in white linens and lay in a red cedar coffin. She wouldn’t be buried in the forests of Aratay—she would be returned to her sister in Semo to rest in the mountains.
Daleina wasn’t certain how she felt about that. After all, it was Merecot’s fault that Alet had killed and therefore her fault that she’d died.
She could forgive Alet.
She couldn’t forgive Merecot. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But Alet deserved to find whatever peace she could, amongst the remains of her own people. Even Daleina’s anger couldn’t refuse her that.
Each of them took turns speaking, sharing a memory of Alet. Even the children. Erian spoke about how Alet had taught her to punch, and Llor said he’d heard her laugh once and it was a nice laugh. Ven spoke of her skill and her confidence. Naelin told of the regret in Alet’s eyes and all the conversations with the oblique warnings that only now made sense.
Daleina went last. There was so much they hadn’t known about Alet, including the fact that Merecot was her sister, or that Merecot even had a sister. But today that paled in importance next to what they did know: who they thought she was. “Captain Alet was more than my guard. She was the one who filled the hole left behind when the heirs died, when I lost my friends. She was the friend I talked to, relied on, trusted, and loved, as a new queen who felt so alone.”
Hamon took her hand in his. “You were never alone, Daleina.”
“And you’re not alone now,” Naelin said. She took Daleina’s other hand, and Erian took hers, then Llor hers, then Ven his, until they were all in a circle around Alet’s body, holding hands.
The petals began to fall. And Daleina felt at peace.