His hands were clenched into fists. “Queen Naelin’s life had meaning before me.”
“Oh, that’s right, it did!” Garnah’s voice was filled with mock surprise. Daleina knew she should say something, stop this before... before what? What was Garnah aiming at? What did she want? “She had her children, the center of her world, the reason for her reluctance to claim power. They were her meaning in life. And because of you taking her unwillingly out of the life she’d chosen for herself... she lost them.”
She heard Ven’s breath hiss as if he’d been punched in the stomach, and Daleina stepped between Garnah and Ven, using the breadth of her skirts as a barrier between them. “Poison-Master Garnah—”
“I lost my son once,” Garnah said, all amusement gone from her voice. “He was the center of my world, my meaning in life, and I won’t lose him again, no matter the cost. You may command me to leave, but I will resist. You cannot force me to leave my reason for being. I’m quite certain Queen Naelin will feel the same way, once she has reclaimed her lost children.”
Hamon sighed. “Mother, there’s a vast difference between you and Queen Naelin. You didn’t lose me.Ileftyoubecause you’re an immoral serial killer.”
Garnah was silent for a moment, then said, “I prefer ‘amoral.’”
Daleina didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or scream. Instead she crossed to the nearest workbench and studied the array of scribbled-on parchment, bottles of herbs and other ingredients, and beakers of oddly colored liquids. Maybe she shouldn’t push Garnah to go to Semo. It had seemed like such a perfect solution: the poison maker could protect Naelin (and as a bonus quit tormenting Hamon and corrupting Arin), but even if she issued an order and even if Garnah obeyed, Daleina didn’t know if she could trust her.Maybe I’m being selfish, wanting her to go. If I send enough protection, it feels less as if I’m sending Naelin to her death.
Beside her, Arin had taken off her glasses and the thick leather gloves. She neatened a stack of papers. “I’ll go,” she said quietly.
Daleina flinched. “Don’t be absurd.”
“I may not be training as a poisoner, but I think my skills may be even more useful,” Arin said. “I have been working with Master Garnah to develop defensive potions, effective against spirits. I can help defend Queen Naelin and her children against Queen Merecot’s spirits.”
“Absolutely not.” Arin was barely more than a child! It was one thing to apprentice her to a confessed killer—that was bad enough—but to send her into known danger in a foreign land... Merecot could blame Daleina for the death of her sister, Alet.I’d have to be foolish to give Merecot such an easy way for revenge.“I need you here.”
“Actually, you don’t. You have Healer Hamon and Master Garnah. Let me go, Daleina. I can be useful. I know I can. And unlike anyone else you send, no one will think that I’m there to guard the queen—they’ll look at me and see a young girl. I’ll be like a secret weapon.”
Daleina wanted to shake her by the shoulders. “Youarea young girl.”
“So were you not too long ago. I may be young, but I know how to defend myself.”
“Against a queen? Against her spirits?”
Pressing her lips together, Arin reached up to the tiny spirit that had nested in Daleina’s hair.Do no harm,Daleina reminded the spirit. Gently, Arin untangled the hair around it and lifted it over the crown. Cooing to it, she held the spirit cupped in her hands.
Daleina held her breath. She knew exactly how much courage it took for Arin to stand there, holding something that had the capacity to maim or kill her when Arin had no power to—
Shifting the spirit to one hand, Arin drew out a powder with another and blew it into the face of the spirit. And the spirit stiffened as if it had been frozen.
Arin set it down on the workbench and flicked it with her finger.
The spirit fell over.
“I know potions that can flay the flesh off them,” Arin said. “Potions that cause them to sleep. Potions that confuse them. I can set them on fire with one vial of the right powders. I can cause them to drown in their own breath. I can stop them from harming me or Queen Naelin. Let me go, Daleina. I will make you proud.”
Daleina stared at her.
Arin stared back.
Laughing, Garnah applauded.
“Absolutely not,” Daleina said, storming out of the room as regally as she could.
Everyone had an opinion on who should accompany Queen Naelin, what route they should take, when they should leave, and what supplies and weapons and gifts they should bring with them. Ensconced in a throne room, Queen Daleina listened to the string of chancellors, champions, and others who all knew best until her head throbbed.
She nodded politely at each one and instructed her seneschal to take a note, which he diligently did. She agreed to putting together an entourage of courtiers, diplomats, and guards. She agreed to task tailors and seamstresses with crafting royal gowns that would impress the Semoians. She even entertained the suggestion of designing a new flag for Aratay, which a standard-bearer—who would of course be part of the entourage—would carry. And she accepted offers from historians who wished to record this historic trip, singers who wanted to immortalize it, and an artist who wanted to paint the grand journey.
All told, if she followed the advice, preparations would take two months.
Her cheeks began to ache from smiling so much as she listened and nodded to the final opinionated visitor of the day. She kept smiling as the seneschal led him out the throne room door and closed it firmly behind him.
She massaged her cheeks. “They’re under way, yes?”
