He doesn’t need to say it, but I know our last visit must be weighing heavily on them. They were reluctant with their support then, never imagining Caledon would come to burn their home down first. The Agathyrians have spent so many years protected by the forest, they’ve forgotten that even the Miravow is vulnerable to outside evil.
I could demand more of an apology—force them to admit they were shortsighted. But what’s done is done, and they’re suffering enough for their mistakes. Besides, I’m not about to turn down any help I can get.
“What sort of ways do you mean?” I ask.
“We can use our influence with the Miravow,” Inas says. “There are ways we can try to calm the trees so they don’t attack so brutally.”
Vostani scoffs, causing Becane to throw her a look.
“Is something wrong?” Leon growls.
“Forgive her, Your Highness,” Becane says cautiously. “But I think we’re both wondering how such a thing would be possible. If Caledon is a god now, surely nothing can overpower him?”
“Caledon isnota god,” I correct.
“Isn’t he?” Vostani snaps, fear shining in her eyes. “We all saw how swords and arrows just bounced off him, how he commanded the very trees of the forest—trees that none of our geostri could bend to their will. The whole camp is talking about how we’re supposed to kill an unkillable, all-powerful being. You’re trying to do the impossible.”
Anger rises up in me at her words. Caledon doesn’t deserve such awe. He’s not worthy of this fear. I can’t argue he’s outplayed us each step of the way, but he’s been playing this game for a very long time. In the end, he’s just a greedy, horrible man, and I’ll be damned if I let my armies go to pieces thinking this enemy is beyond them.
“The whole camp, you say?” I answer coolly.
Vostani realizes she’s crossed a line, ducking her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Alright then,” I say, striding past them all to exit the tent. Outside is heaving with activity as people run around trying to rearm, or heal the injured, or tend to horses. It would be great to get some sleep tonight, but everyone knows we have to deal with more important things first: refueling. That’s why I know I’ll be able to find most of my able-bodied forces trying to scarf down some food in a mess tent a few yards away.
“Listen up!” I shout, trying to get my voice heard over the cacophony. A few soldiers turn to look at me, their expressions curious, but most seem not to notice.
Leon steps up beside me. “Your queen is speaking!” he roars, his voice rolling through the camp like thunder.
Everyone in earshot goes silent.
“I want to make one thing clear,” I call. “When you leave here, tell all of your comrades, and brothers and sisters in arms, because I won’t repeat myself.” I pause, allowing a beat to make sure they’re utterly focused on my words.
“Caledon isnota god,” I say.
I spot more than one doubtful expression in the crowd. The others come out of the tent behind me. My eyes fall on Sophos, and I remember what he said in Elmere about gods and their nature.
“Godhood is more than invincibility. More than immense power,” I say, fixing my gaze on the soldiers once more. “The gods we worship—Ralus and Lusteris, Firesta and Winnivus, even Ethira—are powerful, yes, but they gift that power to us, sharing it out so that we can thrive. They don’t use that power to control us, turning living things into puppets who obey their every command.”
A pair of soldiers near me exchange looks, one nodding to the other in agreement. Encouraged, I press on.
“Today, you saw Marek Caledon control the Miravow, bending it to his will. You saw him hoard power to kill and destroy, rather than create. These arenotthe actions of a god. He may be uniquely powerful, and we may need every one of you brave, courageous people to help us beat him, but he is not divine. Remember that, and together we’ll see his body buried in the dirt where it belongs.”
For a moment, no one says anything, then a lone voice shouts out.
“Well said, Your Majesty!”
My eyes fall on Corrin, who grins at me from where he leans against a tent pole. An exasperated Damia stands beside him.
It’s enough to break the tension, and more people follow suit, offering up a solid cheer. I flush, the anger that spurred me into my dramatic speech draining from me. With an awkward gesture for everyone to return to work, I spin around, meeting Diomi’s eyes first.
“Caledon is commanding the Miravow by force, but you’re the ones who understand it. You share an ancient connection with the forest he can never understand,” I say.
“You’re right,” Diomi replies. “The forest doesn’t forget when respect is shown to it.” He looks to Letrium, who nods eagerly.
“We can heal some of its battle wounds. That should make it less hostile. Then perhaps we’ll have a chance at persuading it to resist Caledon’s control.”
“Thank you,” I say, leading us back inside the tent.
