“You say that like it would be easy. We’re outnumbered, on enemy territory, and Erian and Llor are guarded by her spirits—spirits I can’t control, not while Queen Merecot has her fist around them. Besides, I can’t abandon the people of Semo to their fate. Not to mention Aratay—if I don’t help, then Queen Merecot will go back to her delightful plan of assassination and invasion.”
“All the more reason for you not to be alone in the grove with her.”
Naelin closed her eyes and sighed. “If I die in there, promise me you’ll take Erian and Llor home. Bring them to Renet. He’ll look after them—he’s not as irresponsible as he used to be.”
“I’ll take care of them myself, if you want me to.” Kneeling before her, he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. Her fingers curled around his.
“Marry me,” she said.
He froze, mid-kiss. “Now?”
“Yes. Before I enter the grove.”
“You’re not going to die in there.” He’d never thought about marriage before, not to anyone, but if he was to marry, of course it would be to Naelin. He never wanted to be parted from her—he’d proved that by coming here. But a wedding? Now? This wasn’t a proposal; it was a pity gesture to the man she planned to leave behind with her glorious, sacrificial death.
“You just as much said you think Queen Merecot plans to murder me.” Her eyes popped open. “So marry me first. It will make a better song for your sister to sing.”
“That’s a ridiculous reason to marry.” His throat felt clogged. It was hard to force the words out and make them sound normal. He didn’t know how she could talk about her own death so matter-of-factly. His hands tightened around hers.
“Then marry me because you love me.” She leaned forward and looked at him with such intensity that it felt as if she were memorizing every feature of his face. He wished he had a less scruffy face to offer her.
“I do love you,” he said.
Naelin smiled, and he felt as if he were looking straight into the sun. And he knew in that instant he wouldn’t say no, not if this made her glow so much. “You made me feel when I didn’t want to feel anything anymore,” she said. “And now... Ven, I’m not going to die in there. You’re going to marry me, I’m going to take the spirits, and we’re going to bring them home with Erian and Llor.”
He smiled back, even though his heart hurt. “Good plan, Your Majesty.”
Merecot raised her eyebrows at Ambassador Hanna. “I suppose a few hundred spirits will make an adequate wedding present?” She’d chosen to meet with the ambassador in the gardens, because the sculptures reminded her of what a queen could do with her power when she wasn’t worrying about volcanoes and avalanches and other spirit-born disasters.
The pebbles crunched as Hanna rolled over them. “I’m sure that would suffice, especially if a few could be wrapped in ribbons.”
Her eyebrows shot higher. “Continually surprises me that you have a sense of humor.”
“Mmm. Queen Naelin wished me to convey that she doesn’t want to inconvenience you or your people. If you could but supply a dignitary to officiate—”
Merecot waved away her words. “Bah, we can do more than that. Semo would be delighted and honored to host such an event. In fact, the courtiers will be giddy with joy. They’ll make it a night to remember.” Probably drench the entire castle in diamonds in honor of the event. And the city itself would be celebrating for weeks... but that might be a good thing.This will be excellent for public opinion. First, a lavish party, and then a solution to the spirit problem.Granted, it wasn’t the solution she’d planned, but she could work with it for now.
In fact, she already had several ideas. When she had time, she’d have to share them with Queen Jastra. But first, she had a wedding to plan!
As she began to make lists in her head—at least twelve musicians, an array of food including their most traditional Semoian dishes... oh, and they’d use the West Room of course, festooned with whatever fripperies her courtiers wanted—Merecot beamed at Hanna. “A royal wedding in Semo! Songs will be written about it. Horrible, sappy, romantic songs, but it will be a nice change from the usual ballads about death and mayhem.” Perhaps she could have a portion of the evening devoted to songsmiths debuting their newest creations—after I excuse myself for the night, so I won’t have to listen to their warbling.
“Queen Naelin and Champion Ven won’t want a fuss,” Hanna said.
“Then we won’t tell them we’re making one,” Merecot said. “My people will love this!”And they’ll love me for it.“Are you against a bit of subterfuge in keeping plans from the besotted couple?” She expected Hanna to refuse, but instead Hanna nodded seriously.
“Indeed, I would recommend it. They don’t need to know the extent of the celebration until the day of.” Hanna quit rolling her chair and leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. “How soon can such an event be arranged, though? I believe they want to be wed before the transfer of spirits.”
“It can be done quickly.” Merecot then held up one hand and touched the minds of the spirits in the garden—a trio of tiny earth spirits playing with gravel, as well as a water spirit bathing in a fountain. She viewed the garden through their eyes, checking to be sure there were no stray gardeners or courtiers to overhear her and Hanna. Once she was certain, she said to Hanna, “We can use the wedding as a distraction. While the guests are consumed with merriment, Queen Naelin and I can visit the grove.”
“You don’t wish to make the transfer of spirits public?” Hanna asked. “You should at least alert your chancellors and your military.”
Merecot snorted. “Definitely not.” People would panic. Or have opinions. Either was inconvenient. She’d rather it be a done deal and then present their success to the adoring public, or else bury their failure as quickly as possible and shift the blame elsewhere.
“Won’t your people need to be prepared in the event of failure?” Hanna asked.
“Why? So they can run around in terror?” But it was a valid point. Merecot considered the matter, pacing beneath a stone sculpture of...Really? A sheep dressed as a courtier?The statue was an exquisite representation of a sheep standing on its hind feet with a chiffon puffed skirt and a surfeit of necklaces. Sometimes the garden sculptures made Merecot dream of more peaceful times, but sometimes they made her wonder about the priorities of her predecessors.Here I am, trying to save the world, and they were carving sheep ladies.
The statue, though, did remind her that so far, she hadn’t chosen an heir from the flock of hostile Semoian candidates.Because all of them are unworthy.None of them had been happy about an interloper from Aratay taking the crown, and so Merecot hadn’t liked any of them in return. If her failure were catastrophic, if she’d made a miscalculation and neither queen survived this attempt... Only she and Jastra knew how to reach the grove. And Jastra, as the former queen, would be one of the spirits’ first targets.
