“And, Ven.”
“Yes, Mother?”
“I am proud.”
On her return to Semo, Arin went straight to the throne room. She was announced, and the castle guards opened the great doors for her, then shut them behind her.
“Your Majesty,” Arin said.
Queen Cajara smiled. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”
Arin grinned at her, basking in her smile. “Like you could keep me away.” She crossed the throne room at a half-run. Laughing, Cajara jumped out of her throne and hugged her.
“Guess what? My parents came with me!” Arin said. “They’re settling into their rooms now, but they want to meet you.”
She saw Cajara’s pale eyes cloud with worry.
“They’ll love you,” Arin reassured her.
“The Semoians don’t love me,” Cajara said, pulling back and sinking into the throne again. She looked small in it. Carved from marble, it could have easily fit two or three queens. Checking to be sure there were no fussy courtiers lurking in any corners, Arin plopped onto the throne next to her. Together, they fit nicely.
“Tell me everything,” Arin said.
Cajara made a face. “It’s the dukes. Or barons. Or I don’t know. I can’t tell which is which, and I think the castle seneschal has been lying to me about who’s who because she wants me to embarrass myself.”
“So we’ll find a new seneschal,” Arin said. “What does Ambassador Hanna say?”
“She says give it time.” Cajara sighed. “But I don’t think time will help. I can’t do this, Arin! They look at me, and they see a little girl. Worse, a little Aratayian girl who doesn’t know their land, their people, or their customs.”
It was the longest speech Arin had ever heard Cajara say, which said a lot for how worried the new queen was. She squeezed Cajara’s hand. “Then we change their customs. Start with this: you don’t need them to love you. You don’t even need them to like you. You just need to be their queen, and that means keeping them safe from spirits, right?”
Cajara nodded slowly.
“So you take care of the spirits. Let Ambassador Hanna deal with the dukes and barons and so forth. You don’t need to meet with everyone all the time. Ask her to help.”
“Do you... do you think she will?”
“I think—”
But Arin didn’t get a chance to finish her thought. The throne-room doors slammed open, and Arin leapt off the throne. She scooted to the side as Cajara sat up stiffly—Arin quickly reached over and straightened Cajara’s crown, which had slipped askew.
A guard boomed, “The duke of Pellian!”
A man in a fur-trimmed robe stomped into the throne room. “Your Majesty, I demand to know why your spirits didn’t fix the North Bridge before beginning on the Southern Crossroad. It’s inexcusable that the bridge tomyregion should be neglected when trade from the Pellian Mountains comprises half of all trade in Arkon, a fact that you should know by now, if you cared at all about our country—”
As Cajara shrank back farther and farther into her throne, Arin wanted to yell at the man to make him stop shouting at her. But then she had a better idea.
Reaching into her pocket, Arin stepped forward. And blew a puff of powder in his face.
He collapsed to the floor, asleep.
“Arin!” Cajara half yelped, half whispered.
“Tell the spirits to fix the bridge,” Arin suggested. “We’ll wake him when it’s done.” She crossed the throne room and poked her head out the door. “Could you please ask Ambassador Hanna to come to the throne room? And don’t admit anyone else, especially the seneschal, per order of your queen.” She then returned to Cajara, who looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to wring her hands or burst out laughing.
“If all it will take is time,” Arin said firmly, in a tone she’d learned from Daleina, “then we’ll buy time.”
Cajara settled on laughing, quietly, with tears pricking her eyes. Looking at the snoring man flopped on the very ornate mosaic throne-room floor, Arin started laughing too.
