The Queen of Sorrow

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Merecot supposed it was her own fault they were so paranoid. It would have been funny if it hadn’t all failed and left Alet dead.

  Hanna spoke. “The situation is as I laid it out and as Queen Merecot had claimed: Semo has more spirits than the land can support. They’re warring with one another, and if left as is, they’ll tear the land apart. Judging from what I have seen . . . this could happen at any time.”

  “Can’t you control them?” Ven asked bluntly. He was practically bristling with hostility. I’ve met friendlier wild boars, Merecot thought. “You’re supposed to be some kind of all-powerful prodigy.”

  Merecot gritted her teeth, then made herself relax. She needed these people. Maybe. Jastra had advocated for simply . . . disposing of Queen Naelin—it was efficient, effective, and would permanently remove one more hurdle on the way to ruling both countries—but Merecot maintained it would be best for everyone if she could convince the queens of Aratay to do what she wished. Especially since she’d already failed to kill Daleina once. “I am controlling them. That’s the only reason that the country hasn’t erupted in endless earthquakes, avalanches, and volcanoes.”

  “But this isn’t a permanent solution,” Hanna said, “which is what we are here to discuss.”

  “It can be a short discussion, per your request, Queen Naelin,” Merecot said. Here we go. Say it with confidence. “The solution to Semo’s problem is a simple one. You and Queen Daleina must abdicate and allow me to rule both Aratay and Semo.” She sat back and waited for them to react.

  They gaped at her for a moment, then exploded:

  “Absolutely not!”

  That was Ambassador Hanna.

  “That’s insane!”

  That was Ven.

  He continued. “Abdicate to the woman who tried to kill Daleina and invade Aratay? Are you out of your mind?” Merecot wondered if he’d failed his diplomacy class too. “How about you abdicate?”

  “Yes,” Hanna said. “Give Daleina and Naelin control of both Aratay and Semo.”

  Ven nodded. “Allow them to redistribute your spirits. Your people would be safe then too.”

  Merecot dismissed this immediately. “Daleina lacks the power and Naelin lacks the experience to control this many across such distances.”

  “Naelin could be taught.”

  “There’s not enough time. You felt how close the excess spirits are to ripping this land apart and making it as uninhabitable as the untamed lands.”

  Naelin finally spoke up. “There would have been time if you had come to us, instead of wasting precious days with your plot to kidnap my children.”

  “But I didn’t . . . and I did,” Merecot said, wondering if she should sound a bit more sorry. I’m not, though. I did what I had to do. She was certain Queen Naelin wouldn’t even be here if her children weren’t here. “And those are facts now, not hypotheticals. Think about it and you’ll realize I am the only logical choice to rule both lands.”

  “There must be another solution,” Ven said.

  “None that I can see,” Merecot said. And none that Queen Jastra could see either. The former queen had been studying the problem of spirits for years, and she’d come to the conclusion that this was the start of the solution: one queen for both Semo and Aratay. “Your barren lands provide land for my excess spirits. But only I can send them there and tie them to the land, and I can only accomplish that if I am queen of both.”

  “And I suppose this is why you kidnapped the children,” Ven said, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows lowered. He looked formidable.

  Good thing I’m not easily intimidated, Merecot thought. “Obviously. If I wanted you to visit, I would have sent an invitation. But I want you to abdicate. It seemed to me that required more incentive.”

  Hanna and Ven both began to shout again, but Merecot ignored them. She fixed her eyes on Queen Naelin. Naelin was the one she had to convince. And Naelin was quite clearly considering it.

  “You don’t want to be queen anyway,” Merecot said directly to her. “Do this, and I can guarantee you the life you wanted, safe with your family in whatever home you want. I will keep you safe for the rest of my days. Daleina as well. And I will sign whatever treaty you want to bind my successors to keep you all safe as well.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Ven said to Naelin. “If you abdicate, you give up all the power the spirits gave you when you were crowned. You’ll have no more power than you had before—and that may have seemed like a lot then, but now the spirits know who you are. They’ll all hunt you. Queen Merecot can’t keep you safe from all the spirits of Aratay. No queen is powerful enough to keep a former queen alive for long.”

  “Except me,” Merecot said. This she could say with easy confidence. “Would you like proof? I can introduce you to the former queen of Semo, who is alive and well and here in the castle.” She signaled to one of her guards.

  Rising, she signaled to her guards, who escorted Jastra inside. The old queen had been waiting in the next room. Most likely with her ear pressed against the wall, eavesdropping. But Merecot was grateful for her nosiness now, because it allowed her to prove her point.

  Bent over her cane, Queen Jastra hobbled into the room. She clasped Ambassador Hanna’s hand. “I’ve long wished to meet you. The reputation of your academy has spread far and wide. You’re an inspiration to all.”

  “An honor to meet you as well,” Hanna said, and bowed.

  Jastra greeted Ven and then Naelin. “Please believe Queen Merecot. She has the power to protect me, as you can see. These days, I can scarcely summon a fire spirit to warm my cold toes. Yet Merecot is able to defend me from their wrath.”

  Merecot knew that wasn’t precisely true—Jastra had just as much power as she did prior to claiming the crown—but a little exaggeration wouldn’t hurt here. And it was true that only Merecot’s protection kept her alive. A queen gained many spirit enemies during her lifetime, and Jastra had lived a long lifetime.

  “You could have a life of peace and quiet,” Jastra told Naelin, “if that’s what you wish.”

  “That’s all I ever wished,” Naelin said. “And if it were only me, I would abdicate in a heartbeat. You’re right—I never wanted this. All I want is my family, together and safe.”

  Merecot could hear the unspoken “but.” She waited.

  “But Daleina will never agree,” Naelin said.

  And that was it. With that one simple statement, Naelin doomed Merecot’s plan. Merecot tried not to let the depth of her disappointment show on her face. She’d known intellectually that it had been a long shot, but in her heart, she’d been hoping that Naelin would say yes, of course, she’d convince Daleina and all would be well.

  But if Naelin wouldn’t even try to convince her . . .

  “Are you certain?” Merecot pressed. “If you went back to her, knowing the scope and urgency of the situation, knowing that your children and the children of Semo need this to happen, and you tried to convince her . . . Surely she would listen to her co-queen?”

  “Unlikely,” Ven said. “Daleina considers ruling Aratay to be her duty, her purpose.”

  Merecot knew that. Still, she’d allowed herself to hope. “Ambassador Hanna . . .”

  “I must agree with them,” Hanna said. “Abdication is not an option.”

  Merecot glanced at Jastra, who gave her a small nod. At least the old queen avoided saying, “I told you so.” It had been worth a try. I suppose I’ll need Jastra’s plan after all. Pity.

  It would have been nice to avoid murdering anyone.

  Chapter 18

  Ambassador Hanna drank the tea, which despite Queen Merecot’s assurances that food in Semo wasn’t made with rocks still tasted like rocks. She wished she were in her roost at the academy, where students were in awe and a bit afraid of her. Instead she was playing mediator to two very different and equally headstrong queens.

  I should be retired, she thought, soaking in my golden years in a quiet midforest village, far fro
m politics, responsibility, and risk of violent death. Queen Merecot always seemed a few seconds away from a toddler’s tantrum, and Queen Naelin had already destroyed part of Aratay with her emotional needs. I’m too old for this.

  She leaned forward as Naelin and Merecot launched into another argument about abdication and said, “Perhaps we should break here for the day. Now that the topic has been broached, the prudent choice is to retire, rest, and consider the matter before continuing. Queen Naelin has had a long journey, and I admit that my stamina is not what it used to be.” She gave a rueful chuckle, entirely faked—she wasn’t tired, but she was getting a headache from the tension in the room.

  Both queens scowled at her for the interruption.

  “Rest, reconsider, and meet again tonight, perhaps over dinner, with the children,” Hanna pressed. “Queen Naelin can use the time to familiarize herself with Semo, and Queen Merecot . . . I’m sure you have much that needs your attention.”

  Slowly, Merecot nodded. Her shoulders sagged—only minutely, but Hanna saw it. She’s tired. Worried, perhaps. Even afraid. Hanna couldn’t imagine Merecot ever admitting fear, but she must feel it. Even from what little Hanna could sense with her limited power, she could tell the spirits in Semo were a breath away from disaster. The land felt like a pot about to boil over and scald anyone close enough to be burned, which was just about everyone in its borders, and possibly some beyond.

  Ven pushed back from the table. “The ambassador is right. If you keep at it now, you’ll just piss each other off.”

  “That too,” Hanna agreed, wincing slightly at the champion’s lack of tact.

  “Very well.” In a swirl of jewel-laden skirts, Merecot rose and swept across the throne room. “You’ll be escorted to your rooms,” she said over her shoulder. “Anything you need, simply ask the guards—I’ll be assigning them for your own protection, of course, as well as to make sure you don’t run around murdering people or stealing from the royal treasury or whatever.”

  “Your hospitality is extraordinary,” Naelin said dryly.

  “It is,” Merecot said, “as is the trust I’m demonstrating by allowing you here. Don’t abuse that trust.”

  Ven was fingering his sword hilt. He just can’t help himself, Hanna thought with a sigh. Champions always thought every problem could be solved with a blade. “So we’re to be treated like prisoners,” Ven said.

  “Nonsense,” Merecot said. “Go where you want. Do what you want. Just remember you’ll be watched, and don’t do anything stupid. If you’re tempted, simply remember your children are under my protection.” She exited with that threat hanging there, and her guards swooped in to drag open the massive door in front of her before just as swiftly shutting it behind her.

  Naelin let out a small, humorless laugh. “If she’d left any faster, I’d think she didn’t like me.” She stood beside Ven as a man in red and gold hurried through the doorway and across the vast room to them.

  The man bowed twice. “Your Majesty, I’d be honored to escort you to your rooms. We’ve prepared the baths for you and your companions, and we are at your service.”

  “You can escort us to my children,” Naelin ordered.

  More bows. “Our deepest apologies, but we are not permitted—”

  Hanna wheeled forward. “Actually, I’d like to show Queen Naelin the gardens. I think she’d find them soothing after her journey. Could you please escort us there instead? Feel free to send word to Queen Merecot as to where we are, but I don’t think she’ll have any objections. And if she does . . . she is welcome to come join us for a stroll.”

  Naelin opened her mouth to object, but Hanna quelled her with a frown.

  The servant looked troubled for a moment but smoothed his expression quickly enough. Bowing, he led them—with guards, of course, both Hanna’s own and Merecot’s castle guards—out of the West Room and down the sloping, spiraled hall.

  The castle was shaped, Hanna had discovered, like a conch shell, with curves and spirals, vastly easier to navigate in a chair than the ladders, stairs, and ropes of Mittriel. It also gave the impression of immense distances within the structure, helped by the high ceilings and tall, narrow windows that allowed slits of light to pattern the floor. A clever design, Hanna thought. Everything about this castle was designed to impress and intimidate. “You’ve heard Merecot’s assessment of the situation,” Hanna said. “I’d like to give you mine.”

  “Good idea,” Ven said.

  “My children . . .” Naelin began.

  “Your children’s safety depends on our cooperation,” Hanna said. “You’ve come this far. Be patient a little longer, Your Majesty.”

  Hanna said nothing further until their escort had delivered them to the gardens. She was certain that Merecot would have spies, even spirits as spies, following them, but there was no point in making it easy for her. She thanked the servant and wheeled forward in between two stone statues of soldiers with raised swords.

  The famed Gardens of Arkon were, like much of Semo, made of stone. The works of spirits, guided by queens of the past, lined the walkways. Hanna’s favorites were the ones of people: children carved out of black basalt tossing a ball, an elderly woman carrying a bucket of water all carved out of a blue stone flecked with gold, two men playing a game with round white and black stones, a gardener carved so long ago that the rain had worn away his expression . . .

  She rolled down the paths, her wheels crunching over the pebbles. “You can see here what beauty a queen with control over her spirits can create.” She waved her hand to gesture at an exquisite sculpture of a mother with a child on one hip and a sword on the other—the sun hit her face just right, to highlight the fierceness of her expression. Hanna was partial to that one.

  “Lots of places for an ambush,” Ven murmured, checking behind the statue of the mother and baby and keeping his eye on the other shadows. Hanna supposed paranoia went with his job description.

  “We’re safe enough for now,” Hanna said. “Merecot won’t dispose of us while there’s a chance we’ll do what she wants. You’re safest when your enemy wants to use you.”

  “Rather cynical for words of wisdom,” Ven said.

  Electing to ignore that, Hanna said to Naelin, “Reach out and feel the spirits of Semo.”

  Naelin nodded, then her face went blank—the peculiar focused-absent look of someone who was pushing their mind out of their body. Hanna wondered how far Naelin’s range was outside of Aratay. Undoubtedly impressive. Naelin had been able to summon an earth kraken before she was linked to the spirits of Aratay, Hanna remembered. Her powers should still be intense here, even though the local spirits were linked to Merecot. She wondered what Naelin would make of the spirits of Semo.

  Hanna didn’t have to wonder long.

  Naelin’s eyes snapped back into focus. “They’re wild.”

  “Some of them, yes. But not all.”

  Her eyes lost focus again. “You’re right. Not all. There are two kinds of spirits here. One feels frightened. They’re hiding. The other . . . rage, hate, chaos, wildness.” She fixed her gaze on Hanna. “I don’t understand. In Aratay, there’s variation, but not this kind of split. Are the spirits here warring against themselves?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Hanna rolled farther into the garden, stopping in front of a twenty-foot marble statue of Queen Jastra in her prime, wearing the steel armor of the guards and holding the head of an earth spirit. Snakes sprouted from the spirit’s head instead of hair, and the spirit’s eyes were filled with fist-size rubies. “I have been asking questions, mostly of colleagues, scholars of spirits at the University of Arkon, as well as of several long-time chancellors who served the prior queen, and I’ve unearthed a consensus on what—or rather, who—caused Semo’s current problem. It seems that Queen Jastra, the prior queen of Semo whom you met, had grand designs on the future of her country. She was ambitious, not unlike her successor, and had plans of uniting all of Renthia under a single queen. Her, o
bviously. But to do that, she required greater strength.”

  Ven snorted. “I see where this is going.”

  “I don’t think you do,” Hanna said.

  “Queen Merecot is intent on carrying out her predecessor’s dream,” Ven said. “Simple enough. She wants to control the world.”

  “Right now she’s struggling to control Semo,” Hanna said. And “struggling” is an understatement. She thought of the active volcano she’d seen.

  Naelin nodded. “She’s holding these spirits by constant vigilance—I can feel it. It has to be exhausting. I don’t know how she even sleeps. They’re like wolves who’ve caught the scent of prey.”

  “When she sleeps, people die,” Hanna said flatly. “As powerful as she is, the spirits are strong too. If they were all linked to the land, it would be different . . . but a few hundred of them are not. They all want to be—instinct pulls them to bond with Semo as well as their queen—but there are too many spirits for the land to accommodate, which is where the warring that you sensed comes in—they’re competing for the land. The question is: Why?”

  “The question is,” Ven corrected, “What do we do about it?”

  Hanna glared at him. “Well, you can’t just whack them with your sword. So hush, Champion, and let me finish. This is important.” She turned back to Queen Naelin, ignoring Ven’s look of indignation at being shushed. “The wild spirits you’re sensing, My Queen—the ones who are connected to Queen Merecot but not to the land—are not native to Semo. In order to increase her power, Queen Jastra ventured into the untamed lands and brought back an army of spirits to her country. It was a clever idea. You felt for yourself how your power increased when the spirits of Aratay chose you. And you’ve felt how you are diminished when one dies. A queen’s power comes from her spirits. Queen Jastra understood this—and she concluded that the more spirits she had, the more powerful she’d be. She thought she could tie them to her and then use them to invade neighboring lands. Except there were too many—and without a link to the land, the spirits are much more erratic. Queen Jastra wasn’t strong enough to control them all, which was why she abdicated in favor of the more powerful Queen Merecot.”