The Queen of Blood (16 page)

Ven sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “With Fara, nothing is simple.”

“True enough. But she should have forgiven you by now. I thought . . .” She trailed off and fidgeted in her chair, as if she were a child about to confess. “There's a thought I had, and it is . . . You will not like it.”

“Tell me.”

“I believe she's losing control, slowly but inevitably. Worse, she is in denial and is deliberately hiding the fact from everyone. And you”—she paused, and the pity in her eyes made Ven flinch—“are enabling her. With you out there being a hero, she doesn't need to feel guilt about her failures. She has no need to address them or even admit to any loss of control, if you are there to ameliorate her disasters. I believe she hasn't rescinded her exile because she's using you.”

The words felt like a punch. “She wouldn't . . . That's not . . . I saved people! Not all. But some. It wasn't . . .” He paced back
and forth, tigerlike. The problem was, it
did
make sense. He stopped, took a breath, and focused on another thing she'd said. “You believe she's losing control?” It was of course the most likely explanation, but after seeing her today he was less certain. Her display at Sata's funeral—that wasn't the act of a queen losing control.

Hanna nodded. “Sata shouldn't have died.”

“But I saw at the funeral . . .”

“I know. I was there. Why do you think she did that? To silence those who doubt her. To prove she isn't losing control. Overcompensating.”

He ran his fingers through his hair again. “How did Sata die?”

“She was found encased in a sphere of wood near the palace. Crushed and smothered. I'm sorry, Ven. I wish it was otherwise, but it was clearly a deliberate act by multiple spirits. Queen Fara has been in damage-control mode ever since, trying to prove that her people are safe. She's spread a lie that Sata's death occurred outside the city, far from the palace. She's even . . . Word from the palace is that Sata was to blame. The people prefer to think that, rather than believe their queen is weak.”

“Sata wouldn't call more spirits than she could handle.” Ven noticed he'd clenched his fists. He deliberately opened them before his next instinct was to bash his fist into a wall.

“And yet that's what they say she did.”

“She wouldn't. I trained her.”

“I know.” Hanna was watching him.

Ven felt as if she were looking inside his skull, watching his thought process. Either Sata provoked the spirits, or Fara's control was truly failing. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't hide from the truth. He'd seen it in the outer villages. No, there was no other explanation. Fara's control was failing, and she was trying desperately to hide that fact, starting with the day she'd exiled him. “Why won't she admit—”

“Why do you think? She doesn't want to die. If people think she's not a strong queen, they'll want a better one. And what's the only way to get another queen?”

He sighed heavily. “The old queen has to die first.” Fara didn't
want to die. He almost laughed at the thought—no one
wants
to die—but the queen was almost religious about it. She clung to life more fiercely than anyone he'd ever known. That was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. Sinking down in an empty chair, he put his face in his hands.

“Exactly,” Hanna said. “We both know Fara's always been a fighter, willing to do what was necessary to assure her place. In the beginning, that kind of drive and ambition was exactly what was necessary, and we applauded her ascendance to queen. But Sata died—an heir killed so close to the palace—and that means Fara's control is slipping even more, no matter how much she tries to hide and deny it. But neither you nor I can say that. You can't, because she's already discredited you. And I can't, because I'm needed here. I can't afford to lose the Crown's blessing, or I will lose the academy. But while we can't directly address the problem, we
can
be part of the solution.”

He lifted his face. “You have a plan?”

“Not a plan. A request.” She was smiling.

“That's an ominous look. What?”

“Don't you see? While you are out there in the outer forest, cleaning up after her, she doesn't have to face what she's done. But without you there . . .”

“Without me there, people will die.” She couldn't be suggesting he just stop trying to save people. He couldn't ignore the warnings.

“People are dying anyway. Like Sata.”

He shook his head. “I can't just stay here and not do anything. You must keep sending me her messages, and I must keep—”

“Did you bring your uniform?”

“I have it, but I didn't think it was appropriate—”

“It is, if you are to take a new candidate.” She smiled again, sadly this time, as he gaped at her. “Take on a new candidate. Train someone to be heir. Be ready for when Fara falls.” Moving to a cabinet, she pulled out sheaths and rolls of parchment. “Evvlyn is one of our best students. Her specialty is fire, though of course she's proficient with all the spirits. Marilinara—she goes by Mari—is exceptional as well. Organized thinker, with a logical
approach to her summoning. Very consistent. Tridonna is exceptionally strong with air.”

“I can't take on a candidate.” He'd failed with Sata.

“You must. It's your duty. The heir you trained is gone. You must replace her.”

“I've been exiled, remember?” He wasn't a champion anymore. At best, he was the Disgraced Champion, a figure from a song—and not very good songs, from the sound of it.

“From the queen's presence. Not from the capital. Or from here. Or from the forest. You do not need Queen Fara's permission to perform your duty to Renthia. Ven, we need an heir of Sata's caliber for when Queen Fara falls.” She stared at him. “And she
will
fall.”

The way she said it, the way she looked—Hanna truly believed what she said. Ven was starting to believe himself, but still . . . “The queen won't be happy with me. Especially if you're right that she's using me. Whatever girl I choose won't walk an easy road.”

“You of all people should know I don't train my girls for easy roads.” She thrust the papers at him. He didn't move, and she continued to hold them. “I train them for necessary ones.”

“And what of the deaths that I don't prevent because I am busy training a candidate? What if the queen sends more notes, predicting more attacks? Do you expect me to just ignore them? Let the people die?”

“If that's the road that makes the most sense.”

“Hanna, you know I can't—”

“Like my girls, a champion must make hard choices,” she said. “The few for the many.”

“There are other heirs and other champions.”

“Not like you, and not like Sata. She was the best, and she was not just because of her talent but because of her training. I will send any new messages to the forest guards. Protecting the outer villages is their responsibility. Yours is here. You must train another heir, and you must do it well. You are meant to be a queen maker.”

He took the papers.

“Choose carefully, Ven. Sata's death indicates that the queen's control is slipping faster and faster. I believe the ones who are being trained now . . . I believe one of them will be called to serve. You
must
choose carefully, Ven, because there won't be time for a second choice.”

B
ecause she couldn't sleep, and because Bayn was with Master Bei, Daleina invited one of the caretaker boys to her bed. His name was Andare, and he was only one year older than she was, with soft amber hair, smooth skin, and an easy smile.

He knocked on her door after the night bell, a soft rap that she would have missed if she hadn't been listening for it. She opened the door, and he slipped inside. Candlelight danced across his face as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You shaved. For me?”

He'd had soft fuzz on his cheeks and chin when she'd spoken to him after dinner. “It seemed appropriate.” He had a nice voice, low and buzzing. He probably sang well. She wondered if he'd sing for her, if she asked.

“You understand what I'm asking?”

“For comfort. For peace. For this.” He leaned down and placed his lips on hers. He'd kissed before, she could tell, as his lips whispered against hers.

She breathed again when he stepped back. “I'll need to wake early. And I'm told that I sometimes snore.”

His lips quirked into a smile. He had a nice smile too. He had been a good choice. She'd been watching him for a while—he worked in the practice ring, raking the dirt between classes or tending the plants when they were there. She'd also seen him in
the dining hall, carrying the overburdened platters to the long tables. “I snore too,” he confessed. “Like a bullfrog.”

She laughed. She hadn't expected to laugh tonight. An extra bonus. Taking his hand, she led him to the bed. “May I?” she asked, and lifted his shirt over his head. Her fingers traveled down his chest and stopped at a scar close to his heart.

His hand closed over hers. “It was a long time ago. And I'm safe now. Here.”

She wanted to ask what happened, who or what had allowed it to happen, how he'd come to the academy, where he was before, but he forestalled her questions by kissing her. She let him distract her, and she pulled him onto the bed with her. The mattress sank beneath them, cocooning them in sheets and blankets and pillows.

Eventually, she slept, more than she'd expected, to the rhythm of his snore, with the weight of his arm across her stomach. Before the morning bell, as the first hint of dawn poked through her window, she woke and slipped out from under him. She tucked a sheet around him and lightly kissed his forehead, soft as a butterfly. He didn't stir as she dressed.

She did feel rested. Ready. Today would be different, she could sense it. Slipping down the spiral staircase, she headed for the practice ring. As she walked across the grass, she tied her hair back and stretched out her arms. By the grove of trees, she stopped and began her stretches. For the first time since the champions had begun coming, she didn't feel the knots in her muscles. Maybe it was because there were no champions on the schedule today, or maybe it was because of Andare. She should invite him to stay another night, except she'd have to be careful to be clear he couldn't form any expectations. As soon as she was chosen, she'd be gone.

If she was chosen.

When I am chosen,
she corrected.
When
.

If,
her mind whispered.

Shut up,
she told her mind, and resumed her stretches.

Midstretch, she saw him: a man in green with a pepper beard and clipped hair. He was on his stomach, crawling on his elbows
between the roots of the grove. He had moss and leaves draped over his back. When he quit moving, he blended in so effectively that Daleina had to look twice.

She guessed he wanted to observe how they acted if they thought they were unwatched.
Guess he doesn't know we're always watched
. There were always teachers, caretakers, other students, not to mention the headmistress, who always seemed to be nearby observing every time Daleina had a disastrous class.

Very aware the champion was there, Daleina continued her warm-up ritual, clearing her mind of as many thoughts as possible, calming her breathing, steadying her heart rate. She stretched her arms and legs, rolled her neck until the muscles were loose again, and clenched and released each muscle in her arms, legs, and hands, until she'd regained the relaxed feeling she'd had when she'd woken up in bed not alone. By the time the other students came from the dining hall, she felt centered and calm and all the things she was supposed to be.

Spotting her friends, she crossed to them.

“Daleina!” Zie grabbed her arm and pulled her into their circle. “Have you heard about the headmistress's visitor? He went into her office last night and didn't come out.”

“I don't think you should be gossiping about the headmistress,” Mari said.

“She could be sleeping with him. Or murdering him. Or both.”

“Zie!” Mari stomped away from them.

Zie grinned. “Aw, what did I say? Daleina, what do you think? Does our headmistress have a sensual side?”

“First, ew. Second, I have more important information.” Daleina shot a look at the grove. The lump that was the champion hadn't moved.

“Like you and Caretaker Andare?” Revi asked.

Daleina shot her a look.

She feigned innocence. “It's only that you've been working so very hard, and we've all been concerned. It's about time for you to treat yourself.”

“He's very nice, and if you tease me about him, or him about me, I will dump a bucket of water on your bed.”

Revi grinned. “You can't use water spirits for pranks. Definitely against the rules.”

“No spirits. I will borrow a bucket, fill it with water, and dump it on your bed. Very simple. Very wet. Now, do you want to listen for a second? There's a champion hiding in the grove. No, don't look. We're not supposed to know he's there.”

Hands on her hips, Revi scanned the grove. “I don't see him.”

“You're as subtle as a hammer,” Daleina said. “I said he's
hiding
. Zie, can you spread the word to everyone? We're being judged today. Again.” She tried to feel gratitude at having another chance, but she mostly felt tired.

Zie nodded, serious for once, and scampered to tell the other students. Rejoining them, Mari asked, “Who is he?” She was shooting looks at the grove, trying and failing to be subtle. Daleina thought it was a good thing that becoming an heir didn't require spy work. With the exception of Zie, her friends would fail dismally.

“I'm sure he'll introduce himself when he's finished communing with the moss,” Daleina said. “Leave him alone. It's nearly time.” She pointed to the stairs—their teacher, Master Sondriane, was descending from the dining hall. Master Sondriane was a tall, gaunt woman with skin mottled like a tortoise shell and a scar on one cheek. Stories about that scar abounded, each more wild than the last, but most involving three lovers, a waterfall, and between one and twenty spirits.

As Master Sondriane reached the bottom, a water spirit burst out of the pool beside the waterfall. Water sprayed in a fountain upward, and the spirit twirled. It was a long, thin spirit, with sharklike skin, seaweed green hair, and “fingers” of kelp that dangled from the ends of its wrists. “All right, students,” Master Sondriane said, “your lesson today is simple. Control
that.”

The water spirit opened its mouth and screamed, high-pitched and so loud that Daleina felt her bones rattle. She fell to her knees. On either side of her, she saw the other students clutching their ears, also doubled over. Still shrieking, the spirit sped through
the practice ring, pulling the waterfall behind it like a comet tail. It splashed over the students.

Sputtering, Daleina struggled to her feet. She had to focus, but she couldn't think over the screeching. The spirit swooped back and pulled more water from the crack in the tree. Soon, it was gushing through. It carried the water with it as it swirled around them, faster and faster.

Revi shouted, “It's. Spout. Need. Stop!” The shrieking of the spirit and the roar of the water drowned out her words, but Daleina could see what the spirit was doing too: forming a waterspout around them.

Water sprayed out of it, battering Daleina's face. She put her arm up and forded over toward Revi. “It's the shrieking!” Revi cried. “I can't—” The last word was swallowed by a crash.

The spout stretched taller, toward the first floor, and veered closer to the grove. It uprooted a tree, tossing it in the water.
Oh no, the champion!
Surely he was smart enough to get out of there—unless he expected them to protect him, unless saving him was the test.

“Hold hands!” Daleina shouted to Revi. “Find everyone!”

Hand in hand, they pushed through the water, linking hands with the other students. She was shivering, hard, as the water soaked into her skin. It was hard to see as the water hit her face. Closing her eyes, she yelled, “Fall! Tell the spirit to make the water
fall!
”

Fall!

And the water fell from the sky. It crashed down around them, sweeping and tugging at their feet. Daleina hung on tight to the women on either side of her. “Don't let go! Send it out! Out!”

The water flowed out, led by the spirit. It gushed past them, narrowing into a raging stream before being funneled out the gate of the academy to disperse through the forest floor. Daleina realized she was gripping Revi and Evvlyn's hands so hard that their fingers were mashed together. She released them. Everyone released hands and sagged together. They shared a few tentative smiles.

Daleina sneaked a look toward the grove.

The champion was gone.

He was either unimpressed or drowned. For a brief instant, she wasn't sure which would make her happier.

S
IDE BY SIDE
,
SOGGY AND SHIVERING
, D
ALEINA AND THE OTHER
students stood in the swampy mud that was the practice ring. Her wet clothes chilled her skin, until she felt like frozen meat. Master Sondriane surveyed them all. “I am highly disappointed. You should have done that much more quickly and with much less mess. If this were a field, the crop would have been ruined. If it were a village center, the market would have been destroyed. Livelihoods and lives will depend on you. Act like it.” She swept away, leaving them to shiver together.

Daleina felt her heart sink. No wonder the champion had left, if that was the master's assessment of them. She tried to think what she could have done better, or at least differently.
Stayed in bed,
she thought, and then pushed the mutinous thought down.

“All right. Who's up for liberating some towels from the bathroom?” Revi started for the spiral stairs, but before she could climb more than three steps, Master Klii strode into the practice ring.

“And where do you think you're going?” Master Klii said.

“Um, to dry off?” Revi said. Her foot hovered over the next step. She didn't put it down.

“Class is not over. Not until you are dry.” She snapped her finger and pointed to the ground. “Each of you, summon a fire spirit, make a fire, and dry yourself out. Once you've done that, you can leave class.” She fixed her eyes on Daleina. “No lanterns, no firemoss, no shortcuts, and you must work alone.”

Daleina flinched. She wanted to say it had worked, regardless of how, but she knew better than to argue with Master Klii. Instead, she headed for the grove.

Behind her, others were already calling fire spirits to them, more than Daleina could comfortably call, especially when she was this cold and tired. Zie already had a circle of them around her, dancing over her arms, but Daleina knew she'd have better luck if she could find some brush she could use as kindling and
invite one of the fire spirits from the lanterns to play in it until the fire caught, rather than relying on the warmth of the spirits themselves.

Combing the grove, she looked for dry branches. Everything was soaked and soggy, or too green and alive. She plucked some moss from the side of a tree and rubbed it between her damp hands to dry it. She saw blazes lighting up all around the practice ring. Returning to the edge of the grove, she tried to quit shivering long enough to summon a fire spirit.

One flew from a candle and danced around her. She held out the moist kindling.
Dry this,
she told it. Her hands shook as she held it steady. Kneeling, she laid it on a rock.
Burn
. She cupped her hands around the kindling.

Several of the others were heading up the spiral stairs already, dry and done. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. Again, she was failing. “Come on,” she whispered. She felt so very cold, as if the water had seeped through her skin and muscles straight into her bones.

The bundle of kindling smoked. She blew on it, as her father used to when he lit a fire in their hearth. She pictured her parents and Arin. She hadn't seen them in months. She wondered how they were, if the house was ready for winter, if Arin had kissed that baker boy, if her mother had taken care of the mouse problem they'd been having, or if all her news was so old that it wasn't even relevant anymore. She wondered what they'd think if they saw her now, shivering, with a pathetic smoldering ball of debris.

A flame licked at it. She coaxed the spirit to stay and added more twigs. Glancing up, she saw that nearly every other student had a hearty fire going, or at least it seemed that way. Bonfires dotted the practice ring. Evvlyn had even set part of the grove on fire. Huddling next to her pathetic fire, Daleina thought she'd never be warm again.

A soft weight landed around her shoulders, and she jerked backward, before she realized it was a blanket, only a blanket. Oh yes, a blanket! She curved herself inside it and hugged it close.

“Catching hypothermia is not a good way to train,” a man's voice said.

She looked up and saw a man with a black-and-gray beard and pale water-blue eyes—and instantly, she felt transported to being ten years old, her village in rubble at her feet. She couldn't speak. Her throat felt clogged, as if the memory itself were stuffed down her throat.