The Queen of Blood

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “You can probably climb down now.”

  The other student nodded but didn’t move.

  Daleina tried to remember if she’d heard any teachers say her name. “Lyda? Is that your name? Are you hurt?”

  The girl’s eyes were wide as a deer after it felt an arrow in its haunch, but she shook her head. “Just going to . . . rest here . . . for a minute. That was . . . I think, maybe, I hate it here.”

  “It’s just the first day.”

  “That’s what scares me.”

  Daleina hesitated for a moment, and then maneuvered past her and climbed down to the ground. She couldn’t help with Lyda’s epiphany. “Next?” she asked the wolf.

  His tongue hung out of the side of his mouth like a happy dog.

  In the end, they only caught three more: one who had hidden behind the waterfall, another who had tried to camouflage herself in the dirt, and a third who tried to trick Bayn into a trap, which Daleina spotted because it was the kind of trap her father used all the time.

  When Master Bei called them all back, Daleina trotted beside the wolf. She didn’t know if she’d done well or not, and Master Bei didn’t say, but she resolved to find a treat for Bayn as soon as she could.

  IT WAS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO STAY AWAKE DURING DINNER. ALL the new students sat together, crammed side by side, on a few benches. Caretakers served a stew, ladling spoonfuls into bowls, while the students passed around a chewy nut-flour bread stuffed with dried berries. Daleina dipped the bread into her soup and forced herself to eat—she knew she’d need the energy for whatever waited for them tomorrow. Plus there was still reading to do and papers to start. And as Lyda said, this was only day one.

  “Do you think it gets easier?” Revi groaned. “I mean, they’re just hazing us, right? Throwing us into full-fledged classes after we just finished the maze. It’ll be better next week.”

  “Obviously it gets harder,” Merecot said, helping herself to another chunk of bread. Of all of them, she was the only one who didn’t look exhausted, though Daleina noticed she still had a streak of dirt in her hair. She must have hidden from Bayn on the ground, an unusual choice. She was surprised he hadn’t sniffed her out. Thinking of the wolf, she sneaked a strip of meat into a napkin to feed him later. “If you can’t take it—”

  “Why are you obsessed with what others do?” Linna asked. “Any number can be heir. The more heirs there are, the safer Aratay is. The queen would be delighted if all of us were chosen to be candidates.”

  “Only one can be queen,” Merecot said. “And it will be me.”

  All of them rolled their eyes at her.

  Merecot shrugged and ate another spoonful.

  “We’re a long way from becoming queen, any of us,” Revi said, and groaned again. “I think I left half my skin on the bark of that tree. Why oh why did you have to get us all climbing trees, Daleina?”

  “It’s the most logical way to escape a wolf. Won’t work with cats. Or snakes. Certain bears.” Daleina thought of the bears that roamed the forest floor beneath near her old village. All the berry patches had to be guarded every autumn, but keeping the stores above worked fine. “Haven’t you climbed before?”

  “I live in the capital,” Revi said. “We use bridges like civilized people. And ladders. A few of the shopping areas even have rafts on pulleys that you can ride on to travel from tree to tree. Yes, woodsgirl, we don’t all get around like squirrels.”

  “Where did you learn to climb like that?” another girl asked. “Hi, I’m Evvlyn. You almost caught me today. I was two trees over from you when Master Bei called time.” Daleina recognized her—she was one of the girls who had come out of the maze before her. She had multicolored hair, cut short enough so you could see her scalp. Tattoos of birds trailed up her neck and behind her left ear.

  “I’m from an outer village, midforest,” Daleina said. “This is my first time anywhere near the capital. My family and I came just for the entrance exam.” She felt a lump in her throat that she was sure wasn’t a wad of bread. By now, Arin and her parents had to be heading home. It cost too much to stay in the capital, and there was still so much to be done to prepare for the winter storms. She wondered if they’d stopped somewhere to eat too, if they’d camped or found a way station, and hoped they’d set up enough charms and were being careful. She knew they knew how to take care of themselves. It wasn’t as if they needed her. But still . . . “How about you? Where are you from?”

  “North, near the border with Semo,” Evvlyn said. “My parents are border guards.”

  The others introduced themselves as well, a dozen at their table, all the new students. Daleina realized that the one she’d caught in the tree, Lyda, was missing and wondered if she’d quit. She hoped not. She didn’t like thinking that quitting was an option. She’d rather think of this as something she had to do, like hauling firewood or helping the hedgewitch with her toenails. Except with more magic.

  The older students were clumped together and didn’t look nearly as exhausted, except for the oldest students, who ate without speaking. Daleina studied them. There were only four of them, and they shared a table with the headmistress, but they didn’t look up from their stew. They ate as if it were their sole task in the world. One of them twitched every time someone passed near her.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Evvlyn asked.

  “There’s a champion here who wants to choose a candidate,” Mari said with the air of someone who knows everything that’s going on—which she most likely did, as the head caretaker’s daughter. “The teachers always push the oldest ones the hardest, hoping she’ll pick one of them. Don’t worry. That won’t be us for a long time.”

  Watching them, Daleina barely tasted her stew. If that was what students looked like after they’d been trained . . . But just because it wasn’t easy, that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. I can do this. She had the feeling she was going to be telling herself that a lot. The key was to never doubt it, which was hard when she felt her doubts and fears pitching tents in the back of her mind, sparking a fire, and settling in for the long haul. She knew she wasn’t powerful enough, smart enough, clever enough, knowledgeable enough, talented enough . . .

  Stop it, she told herself, but her doubts just ignored her and roasted a sausage over their campfire. Stupid mind. She wondered if Headmistress Hanna had felt any self-doubt when she faced the spirits at the Massacre of the Oaks. Or Queen Hunerew when she rode a hurricane out to sea to protect the islands of Belene. Or Queen Phia when she commanded the spirits to grow the first city in Aratay, the Southern Citadel, on the shores of the Iorian Sea. Or . . .

  “Is everyone ready for tomorrow?” Linna asked.

  “Why? What’s tomorrow?” Daleina asked.

  “Tomorrow is when we learn who really deserves to be here,” Merecot said, as if relishing the idea of people quitting. “Our first summoning class. Better not get too friendly with anyone. Not all students survive their first summoning.”

  Putting down her spoon, Daleina didn’t feel like eating anymore. In fact, she felt sick. “Truly? Students have died?”

  Merecot began to nod solemnly and then broke into laughter. “I don’t know. It’s my first day too. But you should have seen the look on your face.”

  “It’s official,” Revi announced to the table. “I don’t like her.” The other students glared at Merecot too, at least those who had enough energy left to glare.

  “I don’t need you to like me,” Merecot said, still smiling. “I only need to win.”

  HEADMISTRESS HANNA HAD PERFECTED THE ART OF EATING while watching her students without appearing as if she were watching her students while she ate. It was the only way the students would eat enough. She’d found over the years that if they thought she was observing them, they’d universally lose their appetite. She had enough students passing out from exhaustion as it was. She didn’t need to add to that number with malnutrition. Digging into her stew with gusto, she peeked at them as she swallowed.<
br />
  “New crop of students seems promising,” Master Klii said.

  The headmistress didn’t answer. All new crops seemed promising, so full of hope, until it was drained out of them. She tore a hunk of bread off a loaf and dipped it in her stew. By the time they reached their final year, most were shells. She looked at the older students, their eyes downcast, their shoulders slumped. She didn’t know if any had the inner strength left to become viable heirs. “Tell me, Klii, what do we do here? Do we build heroes, or break them?”

  Master Klii stared at her as if she’d sprouted spirits out of her ears. “Headmistress?”

  Hanna forced a small laugh. “Ignore me. I’m having a pensive day.” The arrival of a new set of students always made her feel this way, as if she were taking young innocents and robbing them of their childhood, never mind that the students volunteered and were always welcome to leave. Children couldn’t possibly understand what they were being asked to give up, and by the time they realized it, they were too immersed in this life to imagine any other way.

  One of the caretakers scurried over to her and whispered in her ear. “Urgent message for you in your office.”

  Hanna put her goblet down and rose.

  All eyes turned toward her, and conversation ceased. “Continue your meal.” But the sounds of forks and knives on plates didn’t resume until after she had left the dining hall and was climbing the stairs toward her tower.

  Her knees ached by the third level up. This was the flaw with choosing an office at the top of the academy. One day, her joints wouldn’t be able to take it. Of course, that would probably be the day that the spirits took her, so it didn’t matter.

  Yes, definitely a cheerful mood today.

  She felt lighter as she climbed, as if the air were fresher higher up. Perhaps it was because she was farther from the sounds of the dining hall, or the lingering stench of sweat from the practice ring, or perhaps it was only an illusion. With the sun low in the sky, it didn’t penetrate the heart of the academy, but it still bathed the top of the stairs.

  It would be lovely, she thought, if the “urgent message” brought happy news. A new grandbaby. A full harvest. Another peace treaty with one of the other queens. Hanna climbed into the amber light and then entered her office.

  The message was on her desk, a piece of parchment that had been tied to the leg of a falcon. One of the caretakers had cut it off and taken the falcon to be fed. Sitting at her desk, Headmistress Hanna looked at the parchment without touching it.

  At last, she picked it up, broke the wax seal, and opened it.

  It held the name of a village, Birchen. Below the name were two words in the queen’s distinctive curled handwriting: “Tell him.”

  Setting the note down, Hanna put her face in her hands.

  She breathed in and out and counted slowly in her head, forcing down the fear that rose like a threatening tide inside her. She still had time, didn’t she? The message had just arrived.

  Rolling the message back into a scroll, she sealed it with shaking hands, then tied it with a ribbon that bore her own mark. Her bones creaking even more than when she’d been climbing, Hanna pushed herself off the chair and crossed to a window. She opened it, closed her eyes, and called to an air spirit.

  One came easily, as always—her best affinity had always been air. Opening her eyes, Hanna held out her hand, and the spirit alighted on her finger. It was shaped like a miniature child with translucent butterfly wings and a tail of feathers.

  Hanna gave the message to the spirit, who tucked it beneath its spindly arm. “Find the disgraced champion.” Lifting her hand, Hanna raised the spirit higher. Wings outstretched, it dove from her palm and pierced the air between the branches below. Hanna watched it until it disappeared and prayed she’d done enough.

  CHAPTER 6

  Summoning classes, according to Mari (their expert on all things academy), were always in the practice ring. At dawn, after the bells exploded in a flurry of chimes, Daleina and the other students piled out of their bedrooms, into the bathing rooms for a frenzy of tooth and hair brushing, and then down the spiral staircase. The first thing they noticed was that all the trees were gone. Manicured bushes, gone. Rocks and flowers, gone. Waterfall spilling into a pool, gone. The practice ring was a wide circle of dirt.

  “What’s going on?” Daleina whispered to Mari.

  “You’ll see.”

  “She doesn’t know,” Merecot said.

  “Do too.”

  “Ugh, can we not argue this early?” Revi said. She still had sleep crusted in the corner of one eye and looked like a bear woken from hibernation. “Some of us actually worked on our papers last night.”

  Daleina hadn’t even tried. She’d collapsed onto her cot within seconds of the night bell. Her dreams had been thick with wolves and her family and the dark corners of the maze. She woke with her sheets sticking to her sweat.

  Six teachers waited for them in the practice ring, one for each kind of spirit, each wearing a ribbon around her waist to denote her specialty: air, earth, water, fire, ice, or wood. A few of them had been judges at the entrance exam; the others Daleina didn’t recognize. All the students lined up in front of the masters. Daleina felt as if she were back in front of the maze, about to be tested again. And of course that’s exactly what was going to happen . . . again and again and again. I’ll pass every one, she promised herself. Whatever they throw at me, I will catch. Or dodge. Or whatever I’m supposed to do this time.

  The master with the green ribbon spoke. “The primary purpose of this academy is to identify and train those girls who possess the necessary abilities to be queen. At the end of your time here, several of you will be chosen by champions as heir candidates. Those candidates will receive specialized training and undergo the trials, and the best will be selected to be heirs and prepared for the coronation ceremony, in the event of the current queen’s death, may she live long and never falter.”

  All the students were silent; even their breathing felt hushed. None of the master’s words were new to them—all Renthians knew this—but somehow hearing it here felt weightier, as if this were a ritual rather than a lesson.

  “At the coronation ceremony, the spirits will select the queen from the pool of heirs, choosing the strongest and best. It is our job here to see that you are prepared for what Aratay—and indeed all of Renthia—will demand of you.”

  “We ask much of our queens,” the next teacher said, “and your classes here will provide you with a valuable knowledge base to draw on, if and when you are called upon to serve our people.”

  Another took up the speech. Daleina wondered how many students they’d said this to over the years, and how many had lasted to become heirs. “Make no mistake, it is service. It is not glory. The queen exists to protect us. She must be selfless, determined, brave, intelligent, compassionate, and wise, as well as strong in will and power.”

  “It is the last that this class is designed to address,” the fourth said. “In this class, you will learn to summon and control spirits, singly and in groups, in close proximity and at a distance. You will learn to sense the presence of spirits and determine their level of hostility and ability to cause harm. By your final year here, this class will dominate your days.”

  The fifth: “All of you have shown an affinity for one or more spirits. By your final year, you will show mastery of all six, or you will be asked to leave.”

  Daleina glanced at the other students to see if this made them nervous too. All eyes were glued on the masters. A slight frown on her face, Revi was chewing her lower lip. She didn’t look tired anymore. Linna’s expression was close to worshipful. Mari looked terrified. Merecot somehow looked bored.

  The sixth and last teacher: “Today we will assess your abilities as they currently stand. You will be divided into groups and will rotate between us.” She consulted a sheet. “When I call your name, please step forward. Iondra, Zie, Linna . . .”

  Daleina didn’t have muc
h experience with summoning spirits. In the outer forest, the spirits were mostly something you avoided, and the hedgewitches worked to keep them away from villages, not invite them in. They safeguarded the woodcutters from tree spirits who resented the felling of trees, they monitored the drinking water for signs of a vengeful water spirit, they kept the fire spirits from stoking cooking fires into brushfires, they guarded the bridges and ladders against destructive air spirits, and so on. Moreover, a lot of their work was done through charms and ritualistic words rather than pure power.

  “Merecot, Daleina, Cleeri, Tridonna . . .”

  She scooted forward to join Merecot and two other students with the teacher in the red ribbon, a stern-faced woman with a burn scar beneath her left ear and clawlike scars on her arm. “I am Master Klii. You will follow me.”

  Master Klii marched them to the center of the practice ring. “For fire spirits, it’s best to summon them as far from structures as possible. Your clothes are flammable, which is unfortunate but unavoidable.” Reaching into her robe, she pulled out a jar of white goo and held it up. “This is burn ointment. Be generous with it while you are here, and sparing when you are away from a steady supply. The healers keep us well-stocked.” Dropping down to sit cross-legged in the dirt, she said, “Sit, and begin.”

  There was zero other instruction. Daleina had expected another lecture, or a demonstration, or at least a hint of how exactly they were expected to summon a fire spirit.

  The master pointed at one of the other students. “You first.”

  Sitting cross-legged across from Master Klii, the girl closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her lips formed a word: “Come.”

  Watching her, Daleina tried to glean any hints. “Come” was a vague word. She had to be targeting a specific spirit, but how?

  “Look,” another student breathed. She pointed to one of the lanterns that lit the spiral stairs. In morning, the candles within were unlit, but a bright shape danced behind the glass.