“You want the sad, terrible story of Alet and my childhood?” Merecot asked.
“You never talked about her, or about your family at all.”
“It wasn’t a pleasant topic. Parents who didn’t want us, and poverty that nearly killed us. Escaped all that as soon as I could. How about you? You never talked much about the formative event of your childhood, the tragedy that set you on your path to your destiny.”
Daleina looked down at her soup and realized she hadn’t even tasted it. Everyone knew her tragedy: Greytree. But few knew she still dreamed about her cousin Rosari, telling her stories until she fell asleep. Few knew she still saw the faces of her childhood friends, mixed with her classmates who had died on Coronation Day, as if death erased the time between them. She wished she could remember what they looked like alive better than she could picture what they looked like dead.Isn’t time supposed to fix that?“It wasn’t a pleasant topic either. What was the moment you knew that you wanted to be a queen?”
Merecot picked up her spoon and ate more, as if she weren’t as uncomfortable with this as Daleina was.She must be,Daleina thought. But Merecot answered conversationally, as if this were just a pleasant chat between casual acquaintances, “I always knew. It was my destiny.”
“I don’t believe in destiny.” She couldn’t believe in it. Daleina didn’t want to ever think her friends had beendestinedto die. It was a terrible thing that shouldn’t have happened.
And it was because ofme, not fate, that it wasn’t worse. I couldn’t save them, but I did the best I could, both in Greytree and in the grove, and prevented tragedy from becoming a pure disaster.She was proud of that. And she wasn’t going to foist either credit or blame onto some nebulous “destiny.” Even more firmly, Daleina said, “No—destiny has nothing to do with it. We shape our own future.”
“If things continue as they have, we shape a bleak future, then. One day, the spirits’ more violent nature will win out, and they will destroy every human in Renthia. One day, the queens won’t be able to stand against them. One day, they will win and lose at the same time, and all this will end.” Gesturing as if she could encompass the entire world, Merecot swept her arms out and knocked over a decanter. It crashed to the ground, and wine seeped out into the carpet. “Wait—don’t call a servant to clean that.”
“Youintend to clean it?” Standing, Daleina scooped up an embroidered napkin, intending to sop up the wine. It was ruby red, made from grapes from the Southern Citadel, a rare vintage according to her seneschal. She’d chosen it as a peace offering, as well as the soup made from rare white truffles.I don’t even like mushrooms.
Merecot caught her wrist. She no longer seemed casual or even calm. “I’m trying to tell you something important, Daleina.” She hesitated, as if warring with herself. “The spirits are plotting our destruction!”
Daleina twisted her arm, pulling out of Merecot’s grip. She wasn’t sure what had prompted this change in tone. Merecot sounded almost desperate. “The spirits are always plotting our destruction, Merecot,” Daleina said patiently. “That’s what they do, and that’s why we’re here—to hold them back.”
“What if we’re not enough?”
“We have to be enough,” Daleina said. “We’re all there is.”
She didn’t understand why Merecot was looking so feverishly intense. She felt prickles on her skin and glanced toward the door, where she knew Garnah was listening. Garnah had been here when the food was served, to check it all for poison, but then Daleina had dismissed her out of sight. She wondered if it would have been smarter to keep her in the room, as well as a few heavily armed guards. “Is it fear? Is that why you’re queen? Are you afraid of the spirits? I’m trying to understand you, Merecot. I really am. Help me understand. Why did you try to kill me?”
“For my people. You know that.”
“You could have come to me and asked for help.”
“If I’d asked, you could have said no.”
“So you went with murder as your first-choice option! Why?” She realized she was shouting but couldn’t stop. All the old anger felt like it was pounding inside of her, wanting to burst out of her. She wanted to scream at Merecot, to shake her, to rage like the spirits. “There were other ways! Queen Naelin found another way. You could have too! Was it a failure of imagination, or is there something else you want? Do you hate me so much? Is it greed? Ambition? You want to be queen of the world?”
Merecot smirked. “Queen of the world. I like the sound of it. Yes, since you mention it, I do want to be queen of the world.”
There it is. Greed and ambition.Daleina puffed her breath out, feeling strangely disappointed. It was such a small, petty reason to do what Merecot had done. She felt herself deflate, her anger dribbling out, replaced by a kind of pity. “I expected more from you.”
“More than queen of the world?”
“Betterfrom you.” She studied her old friend sadly. Merecot was thinner than she should be, her cheeks sunken beneath her prominent cheekbones, as if she hadn’t been eating, and she had shadows under her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping. Her black hair was pinned harshly back, the white streak as visible as a bolt of lightning. Her jeweled crown was tight around her forehead, tight enough to leave a mark. “You were the best. Everyone thought so. Even Headmistress Hanna believed it. You could have—”
Dropping back into her chair, Merecot slammed her palms on the table, knocking her spoon to the floor. “By the spirits, you are so sanctimonious! You think you’re better than me, that your purpose is more noble than mine. And what is this grand purpose of yours? To survive? To eke out another day for the people of Renthia? Another day where they all live in fear, never knowing if it’s their last day, never knowing if they’re going to be torn to bits while their family watches, helpless. It’s a pathetic life you want for our people. I want more! I want an end to fear! I want the world to be the way it should be, for our people to live their lives as they choose, to trust that they will have a future to live.”
Daleina had never seen Merecot so serious or so passionate. She stopped scrubbing the spilled wine. “Merecot, what are you saying?”
Lowering her voice to a whisper, Merecot leaned down and said, “I want to destroy the spirits. All of them. And I know how to do it.”
Merecot spread her napkin over the wine stain on the carpet. Clutching one already-stained napkin as if it were a security blanket, Daleina was staring at her with a shocked expression. Merecot resisted rolling her eyes.You’d think after being queen, she’d have learned to hide her emotions.She’d expected her words to have an impressive effect, but Daleina was silent.A queen shouldn’t ever be struck dumb.
That said, ithadbeen a dramatic statement. One she hadn’t planned to share before coming here. And as expressive as Daleina’s face was, Merecot still wished she could read her thoughts. “Come on, Daleina. Look lively. You have to admit it has appeal.”
“You can’t destroy them,” Daleina sputtered. “Destroying the sprits would destroy Renthia.”
“I can prevent that.”
“You can’t!” She was shaking her head. “The land willdie. You’ve seen the barren areas in Aratay—you caused plenty of them. You’d turn all of Renthia into a wasteland.”
