The Queen of Blood (37 page)

“You were missed,” Linna told her.

“Were you home this whole time?” Revi asked.

Daleina nodded. “You?”

“Some of us went back; some stayed.”

After that, they bathed without talking. Other pools held heirs from other academies. Some were older, experienced heirs, who had been through a coronation ceremony before. Others were new, like they were. All of them, Daleina knew, were more qualified and more deserving than she was. And that was okay. She'd played her role, for better or worse, and that was it.

“You missed the queen's funeral,” Evvlyn said, climbing out of the bath and drying herself. She had new scars, crisscrossing her bird tattoos so that two of the birds looked as though their wings were clipped. They still flew, though. “And all of the others.”

“There were many,” Airria said, her sweet voice soft.

“I lost a brother,” Iondra said.

“Master Bei. She was one of my favorites,” Zie said.

Daleina felt jolted—she hadn't known Master Bei had died as well. Poor Bayn. She wondered if that was why the wolf had been so willing to follow her and to stay with her, even though Daleina hadn't planned to leave her home village.

They all went on, naming more people who had been lost, in the capital and beyond.

“Once the coronation ceremony is over, life will go on,” Iondra declared. “We will learn to live while mourning them. All will again be as it should be. Sadness will end, or at least be replaced by the business of living.”

“I'm going to be a hedgewitch in my family's village,” Daleina told them. “It's the best way I can serve Aratay.” She'd replace Mistress Baria. It was a respectable choice. She could do good locally. It had been foolish to ever dream bigger.

“Or you will be queen,” Zie said. “You don't know.”

“I do know,” Daleina said. “Queen Fara knew. You are all more powerful than I am. It's why I am ranked last.” She took a breath, knowing they wouldn't understand what she was about to say. “And why I will not be joining you in the grove.”

“You have to!” Revi said.

“You know you're meant for this,” Iondra said.

“We started this together; we finish it together,” Revi said.

Daleina got out of the bathing pool and wrapped a towel around herself. “I promised my family and Ven that I'd come with you to the ceremony, but that's as far as I'll go.” It was a fair compromise: she'd see this to the end, but at a distance. They argued with her more, saying she couldn't know who the spirits would choose, but she stood firm, never saying her true reason: that the queen's killer did not deserve her power.

She allowed the palace caretakers to dress her in a white gown with beaded pearls, and when she looked at herself in the mirror—her red-and-gold hair piled on her head and secured with jewels, her neck and arms painted with images of leaves, waves, flames, snowflakes, mountains, and clouds—she looked like an heir, and for an instant, her resolve wavered.

This was who she was.

This was who she was meant to be.

But something had changed inside her. Digging through her old clothes, she pulled out Ven's sheathed knife. She strung the sheath onto her jeweled belt. Now she felt more like herself.

“You're Heir Daleina, from Northeast Academy?” a voice said behind her. She turned to see a woman, a few years older than her, another heir. She stuck out a hand and clasped Daleina's. “My name is Chidra. I heard you decided not to enter the grove?”

“You heard correctly,” Daleina said.

“You're an heir,” Chidra said flatly. “You come.”

Daleina lifted her chin and thought of Queen Fara, as she had looked as she stood in the entrance arch to the palace, and replied in just as flat a tone, “I will do what I think is best for Aratay.”

“Yes, you will,” Chidra said, and Daleina noticed that other heirs had joined her, fanning out in a semicircle. It hadn't occurred to her that others would care. “We must all do our duty.”

“She'll come,” Revi said. Linna nodded and repeated it, “Yes, she'll come.” Zie: “She's coming.” “There is no question,” Iondra said. “Daleina comes. She's one of us.”

Unable to explain why they were wrong, Daleina could only shake her head. Her eyes felt hot with tears she knew she didn't
deserve to shed. She didn't deserve their faith in her, but then, this wasn't about her and what she felt.

“For the sake of those who have fallen,” Iondra said.

“For Mari,” Linna said. “We'll do this for Mari.” She took Daleina's hands, and Daleina felt her resolve falter. She looked around, and saw the heirs of Aratay staring back at her.

Maybe they were right. Maybe her role wasn't over yet. Like Ven, she wasn't done until one of the heirs was crowned. Finally, after a deep breath, Daleina nodded. “For Mari,” she repeated. And for Sata. And Andare. And Josei. And even Queen Fara.

A
s the gibbous moon bathed the forests in silvery light, the heirs filed out of the palace, through the quiet city, to the Queen's Grove, a sacred place just beyond the borders of the capital. People watched them from windows, from bridges, from branches. Daleina watched Ven out of the corner of her eye, marching with the other champions on either side of the heirs.

Around them, spirits flowed toward the grove. Silent, they were like a stream of clouds, flowing through the air, sweeping along the forest floor, seeping between the trees. None of them looked at the heirs. It was as if they inhabited separate worlds that didn't yet intersect, but they were all being pulled to the same place.

This was the effect of the “choose” command—the suspension-like state and the pull to the grove where they'd make their choice. Her teachers had said it was a deep, base instinct, ingrained like bird migration or procreation, a compulsion that was part of their essential makeup. The spirits needed a queen to keep them from tearing their creation asunder, as they did in the untamed lands, where they created and destroyed with wild abandon, ripping the earth to shreds. Some people believed it was a magic of the land itself, wanting to grow again, wanting balance, forcing them to
need
a queen.

As for why
here,
her history classes held the answer for that:
this was the place where the first queen of Aratay claimed power and created the forest land. Each of the five lands had a place like this, a sacred place where the spirits were first bound to obey. It was what made the tamed lands different from the untamed wilderness beyond the borders. None of the heirs had ever seen the grove. You didn't go to the First Place on a whim. It was too sacred.

It felt that way to Daleina, as if she still wasn't worthy to enter, even only as an observer.

Outside, the grove was surrounded by a thick knot of trees that wove together into a wall of branches, leaves, vines, and thorns. The heirs, the champions, and all who followed halted when they saw it. Only the heirs would cross within, and the grove would seal shut once they were inside—the choosing was an inviolable sacrament, their most holy and beautiful ritual. Heirs had said it felt like touching the beginning of time or seeing the heart of creation. Daleina knew she didn't deserve to see such beauty or feel such peace. She also knew her friends wouldn't allow her to refuse. She loved them for that, for their faith in her.

On either side of her, Linna and Revi clasped Daleina's hands. “We started together,” Revi said again. “We finish together.”

“Your family will understand,” Linna said.

They would,
Daleina thought. And she couldn't explain why that made her sad.

She looked back over her shoulder and met Ven's eyes. He nodded once at Daleina. Beside him, Bayn whined like an abandoned dog. Ven laid a hand on the wolf's back.

Hamon stood on the other side of Ven. He met Daleina's eyes, and Daleina saw sadness there, the same weight that was inside her, and she was glad that he hadn't come to speak to her. There were no words that she wanted to say.

Together, the heirs walked forward.

She half expected the trees to part for them, but no, there was no magic in Aratay, not until the ceremony began. They walked a path between the trees, one that no one had walked in a long time, not since Queen Fara was crowned. Brambles had grown between the trees, as well as ferns, and the heirs had to climb
over and between them until they reached the grove in the center. Twelve of them carried torches, which they set into twelve iron sconces around the grove, scaring back the shadows. The grove glowed with amber torchlight. Above, the sky was thick with spirits, as were the trees. They crawled over the ground and whispered between the leaves, burrowed through the soil, and swarmed in clusters through the air. Daleina reached out to touch them and it felt like brushing her hand against raindrops. “So many,” Zie murmured.

Hundreds—thousands—of all shapes, kinds, and sizes filled the grove, and as the last heir crossed through the trees, the spirits pressed closer to one another, crawling and clawing over one another, weaving their bodies until they felt like one writhing creature above, below, and all around them. The women formed a circle, side by side, facing outward.

Daleina heard a whisper to her left: “Choose me.”

And then more:

“Choose me.”

“Choose me.”

“Choose me.”

She did not join them. Standing in the grove, she kept her mind silent. She would not be chosen; she would not allow herself to be. Her duty was to make sure one of these others became queen. Stepping into the grove was her last act as an heir.

Around them, the spirits writhed faster. The trees knit together, their bark fusing into a solid wall to keep out the non-heirs, blocking both sight and sound—the ceremony had begun, and their power had returned. Soon, the spirits would make their choice, crown the queen, and the grove would open again. A new era would begin, a better one, with a queen who valued her people's lives and who would bring peace to Aratay. One that would allow them to rebuild and move on from all the deaths and tragedy. She'd watch it happen, from her new village home, with her parents and Arin beside her.

“Choose me!”

“Choose me!”

“Choose me!”

And then, finally, an answer.

“No.”

The voices faltered.

The owl woman landed in the center of the grove. Several of the heirs turned to face her, and then more, until all the heirs had pivoted to face the spirit with the woman's body and owl's head. Daleina felt a shiver creep up her spine as the spirit rotated slowly to see all the heirs. She seemed to linger on Daleina's face, but perhaps that was Daleina's imagination. “You wish us to choose? We choose no one. No human will control us.”

Impossible,
Daleina thought.

“You need a queen,” Zie said. “You crave one. The land itself wants you to choose.

Iondra spoke. “Without a queen, you'll destroy everything, through both wanton destruction and unfettered creation.”

“You can't resist,” Revi said. “We're stronger than you. You must obey our command. Choose one of us. Crown your queen.”

In a calm, kind voice—like a mother as she soothes her child—the owl spirit said, “We already have a command to obey, a blood oath we cannot break.”

Daleina was again aware of how many spirits there were, covering the trees so completely that she couldn't see a shred of bark, filling the sky so entirely that they blocked the moon, saturating the earth beneath their feet.

“There's only one command here,” Iondra said, just as calm, her singer's voice resonating through the glade. “You must choose.”

“And so we shall.”

The owl woman snapped her beak open and shut.

“We choose your death.”

Daleina leaped backward as the ground exploded at her feet. Earth spirits clawed out of the ground like hundreds of spiders being born. Skittering everywhere, they scrambled on many legs toward the heirs, snagging the hems of their gowns, climbing up, digging their pincers into any flesh they found. Grabbing Revi's arm, Daleina yanked her back as a hand made of mud and scales punched through the soil. Other hands burst through, pushing
back the earth and heaving their bulbous bodies out of the ground. They roared, their mouths slick with greasy mud.

Several of the earth spirits charged at Revi and Daleina and then recoiled back, as Revi commanded them, forcing them to veer away. Other heirs were issuing commands as well, forcing the spirits away and down, back into the earth, but more rose up, spilling from new holes, oozing out and spreading across the grove, making the ground roll and pitch beneath them. Daleina thrust her senses outward, searching for a safe patch of earth—and felt the air spirits launch their attack. “Above!” she shouted. Others cried out at the same time.

And the sky fell.

The air spirits thickened into a dark, swirling mass, and descended fast, slamming into the heirs with the force of their wind, knocking Daleina away from Revi and the others. It threw them backward against the trees.

All the trees were alive, moving. Vines shot out, pinning the heirs down, wrapping around their legs, arms, necks. Daleina dropped to the ground, ripping away from the vines, rolling across a clump of tiny earth spirits. They attached to her skin, plunging their teeth and claws into her flesh. She saw another heir beside her, fire spirits burrowing through her ceremonial gown, writhing within her hair, and the heir fought back—the fire spirits flew backward as if thrown and hit the nearest tree. The tree spirits shrieked as they burned.

Smart,
she thought.
Use the spirits against one another
.

With the earth spirits clinging to her, Daleina rolled again, toward the fire spirits, and they flew at her.
Burn,
she ordered, and the fire spirits bore into the earth spirits. The earth spirits screamed as the flames touched them, releasing their grip. Jumping up, she ran from both of them.

But there was nowhere to run.

All around her, the fire spirits raged, their flames leaping from heir to heir. Daleina called to the water spirits.
Flood them
. She pointed to the burning heirs. Cackling with glee, the water spirits funneled water toward the heirs, enough to douse the flames, but also too much, choking the heirs.
Freeze!
Daleina called to the ice spirits, and an ice spirit, shaped like an icicle with claws darted toward the water, pierced it, stabbing into the arm of the nearest heir but also freezing the water. The heir then seized control of the ice spirit, sending it against the water spirits, much faster than Daleina had done it. Following Daleina's lead, the other heirs turned their powers on the spirits, bearing their will to bend them, forcing them to defend the humans and attack the other spirits. The spirits in turn joined together to batter the heirs.

Everywhere, there was chaos. The air spirits converged on one heir, tossed her into the air, and grabbed her by the feet and hands and pulled. Others whipped in circles, creating whirlwinds that tossed heirs against the trees—she saw Revi scooped up and slammed against a trunk. Bark began to seal around her, encasing her wrists and up her arms toward her neck.

“Revi!” Daleina shouted. “Burn it!”

She wasn't sure if Revi heard, but the fire spirits swarmed her, blackening the tree, until it released her. Revi fell forward onto her knees. Her arms were raw, the skin peeled back where the bark had held her.

Across the grove, Airria was fighting other tree spirits, using air spirits to pluck them off branches and hurl them into the air. She caught several in a whirlwind that she forced to slam against a tree trunk. The spirits burrowed into the bark.

Zie called, “Daleina, watch out!”

A vine shot out like a whip. Other branches stabbed out, hurling
spearlike sticks, and Daleina lunged to the side—the spears shot across the grove. She saw one hit another heir, a woman with bright-red hair and a green stone necklace. The shard of wood embedded in her shoulder, and the heir staggered backward into the waiting arms of an earth spirit. The earth spirit pulled her down, fast, and the dirt closed over her before Daleina could even react.

Daleina realized suddenly that she wasn't being attacked, not directly. The spirits were concentrating their attacks on the heirs with the most power, the ones who were raising whirlwinds and controlling walls of fire. She was so weak they didn't see her as a threat—and so she was being overlooked while the spirits attacked her friends.

Looking for her friends, Daleina spun to see Iondra striding toward a tree. Arrowlike sticks protruded from her arms and thighs, but they didn't slow her. She held flames in her hands, two fire spirits coiled on her palms, and she shoved forward with her arms—sending the fire spirits shooting toward the tree. They landed on the bark, burning the tree spirits.

The spirits screamed.

Yes!
Daleina wanted to shout. Calling the two fire spirits back to her now-black hands, Iondra turned. She snarled, a tower of magnificent rage, ready to hurl the fire spirits at her next target—and a tree spirit, tiny with stick arms and legs, leapt off a branch and bit into Iondra's throat. Daleina felt herself screaming, heard other screaming, as the spirit tore the flesh from Iondra's neck.

Iondra fell. Knees first, then body.

The fire spirits abandoned her, aiming for other targets. Stumbling, Daleina ran over the roiling ground toward Iondra's side. A fire spirit whipped past her, singeing her cheek. Smoke was beginning to cloud the grove. Its thick taste soured in her mouth.

Beyond Iondra's body, another heir fell. Roots wound around her body, and vines poured down her throat.
No! Stop!
But the spirits were too wild to hear Daleina's plea. She tried to redirect them, to picture a tower, a spire, a palace! But they wanted death.

Only death.

All around her, heirs were fighting their own battles—Zie had
raised an earth spirit with many arms to batter at a tree spirit. Linna was guiding a waterspout to flush out a pack of earth spirits. Another heir was forcing fire spirits to burn into the heart of a tree. But there were so many. For every spirit they deflected, twenty more flew at them.

Leaving Iondra's body, Daleina scrambled for a tree. She had to get up where she could see. There had to be a way they could work together, use their united power against the spirits. The spirits weren't united in anything but desire—most were no smarter than animals. She climbed a tree, and one of the spirits sent a vine toward her, lengthening it.
Longer,
she told it, and it happily obliged, extending the vine longer and longer, losing track of why it had wanted the vine to grow, subsumed in her will. She grabbed the vine and threw it down toward an heir who was waist-deep in the soil and sinking fast. The heir grabbed on, and Daleina leaned back, holding the rope steady as the heir climbed out of the muck.