They didn’t believe her, of course, and came pouring into the kitchen. But as the purple smoke cleared, it was clear there was no danger. Only one tiny fire spirit knocked out on the hearth. Naelin crossed to it. Picked up its arm and dropped it. The thin charred arm flopped back onto the brick. She touched the spirit with her mind—it was alive, but it was... asleep?
The guards, reassured that their queen was neither in danger nor causing danger, retreated to the stairwell, and Naelin faced Arin. “Let’sdefinitelyput that into charms.”
Arin grinned, and Naelin found herself grinning back.
Side by side, they worked late through the night, until the predawn hours, when the kitchen workers began to drift in, to begin their morning preparations. Gray light was warming the windows when the two finally ceded the kitchen to its staff. Swarming around them, the staff helped them put away the leftover herbs and ingredients, despite Naelin’s protests that she could very well clean up herself—she’d made the mess; she should clean it. The staff, though, was far more efficient, and Naelin and Arin found themselves scooted over to an alcove, along with Arin’s bread and a stack of powder-laced charms.
“If you weren’t queen, I’d say we should open up the best hedgewitch shop in the city,” Arin said, hugging the charms.
“It would have been a thriving business,” Naelin agreed.
“I’d planned to open my own bakery—that was my dream, with Josei. He was the baker’s boy in the town where my family lived. He was my best friend. We’d even talked about marrying when we were older.”
Naelin heard the past tense. “Spirits?” she guessed.
“Yes, when Queen Fara died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“After he died, people kept saying that: ‘I’m sorry.’”
Naelin thought of the people in the palace and the villagers in Redleaf and their endless, empty sympathy. She supposed it was the only thing they knew to say.
And she’d just done it to Arin.
“At first it didn’t help,” the girl continued. “I kept wanting to scream at them, ‘If you’re so sorry, why didn’t you save him?’ But it’s not as if anyone could have saved him. It just happened. And suddenly every dream I had, every plan we’d made, were all dead too.” She looked at Naelin. “I’m not saying it’s the same as for you. I know Erian and Llor aren’t dead, and maybe Bayn isn’t either, but...” She trailed off, as if she wanted to say more but didn’t know what words to use.
Reaching across the table, Naelin squeezed Arin’s hand. Arin squeezed back, and then she broke apart one of the loaves she’d baked, sharing it with Naelin.
Naelin bit into a piece. Sweet, soft, and flaky, it was one of the best breads she’d ever eaten. Despite her apprenticeship to a poisoner, Arin clearly had a gift for baking. She should’ve had the chance to open that bakery with her boy.Strange, the twists that come while we make other plans,Naelin thought.
“Guess we should probably sleep,” Arin said, watching the kitchen staff scurry through, preparing to make breakfast for the courtiers, guards, and everyone.
“I think we may have missed that chance,” Naelin said, nodding to the stairwell. The seneschal had just poked his head into the kitchen and was looking around. His eyes lit up beneath his fluffed eyebrows when he spotted Naelin, and he trotted across the kitchen to the alcove.
With full formality, despite this being a kitchen not a throne room, the seneschal bowed. “Queen Naelin, a spirit has arrived, bearing a report from Ambassador Hanna. Queen Daleina was in the middle of meeting with the champions when it came. She insists on waiting for you before sharing it.”
Naelin sprang to her feet. “Keep the charms,” she told Arin. “And... thank you.”
Naelin followed the seneschal up the winding stairs. She wanted to run like an impatient child.Please let it be good news! Please!
He led her up—and up and up—to the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions, at the top of the easternmost tree. “Couldn’t some queen have installed a lift?” Naelin puffed. She was used to climbing through the trees, but this was a ridiculous number of stairs.Aren’t we there yet?
“Your predecessors have expressed similar sentiments,” the seneschal said blandly—he didn’tseemto be laughing at her. He wasn’t panting at all, though, she noticed. “Some used spirits to convey them to the chamber.”
“I won’t use spirits for my convenience. Only when it’s necessary.” And there was only one scenario she currently hoped would make it necessary: rescuing her very-much-alive children.
She climbed the stairs faster.
Guards greeted her at the top of the steps, and she barely nodded to them as she passed. All the champions, including Ven, were seated in a ring around the edges of the chamber.
She’d been up here only once, after she was first crowned, to meet the champions. Since then, the vines that circled the arches had withered, with only a few golden leaves still clinging to them. A second throne had been added, this one not grown from the tree itself but still just as beautiful, made of a deep cherry wood and decorated with curls of white pine. Still panting from the climb, Naelin plopped into the throne. She felt the eyes of all the champions on her.
Naelin studied them right back. She didn’t know many of them, but most appeared... the kindest word was “grizzled.” Most looked as if a bear had chomped on them, then spat them out because they were too tough.
Then came back for seconds.
It was an amusing thought, but then she noted the empty chairs too. Champions who had died and hadn’t yet been replaced.
