"Reasonably accurate," Ven said, and the smile he threw her felt like a lifeline. "You'll either get used to it or eternally hate it." He stopped and pointed. "That, though, is a sight that I'll never get used to and never hate." They were approaching from midforest, where the bridges merged together into a wide painted bridge that led into the palace gates.
"Oh, Mama, it's beautiful!" Erian gasped.
She was right: the white trees of the palace shone as delicate and ethereal as the moon. Their branches entwined, creating a lacework of smooth limbs that spread into a thin canopy of golden leaves. Six spires rose above the canopy, capped in arches. One, an observation deck known as the Queen's Tower, rose highest from the center. Another, which held the famous Chamber of Champions, bowed off to the side. Others were said to hold various throne rooms and bedchambers, each more ornate than the last. Elegant stairs wound around the trunks, and balconies adorned the higher reaches. Naelin wanted to scoop up her children and run home, to their drab, snug hut.
"Are we going to live there?" Erian asked.
"What? No. Of course not. That's the palace." She'd been foolish to think she'd have an audience with the queen herself, to think Her Majesty would care about one woodswoman's family.
"But you said the queen would protect us," Llor piped up. "I heard you! I listen!"
Erian's eyes were round. "Are we going to meet the queen?"
Before, she would have said yes. She'd had every intention of marching into the palace and demanding . . . Oh, it all sounded so ridiculous now. Who was she to demand anything of the queen? I'm no one, nothing, not even a properly trained hedgewitch. Just a woodswoman whose skills did not apply in a place like this. She was no one, and while her children meant the world to her, the queen was responsible for all the children in all of Aratay. There was no reason for her to take any special interest in Naelin's. Most likely, Naelin would never see her, even from a distance. And that's fine. I don't know what to say to a queen. "You'll stay with me, wherever I go. If it's to meet the queen, we meet the queen. If it's to meet the fourth assistant pig keeper, we meet the fourth assistant pig keeper."
"Why do they have four pig keepers?" Llor asked. "Do they have that many pigs?"
"It's the palace," Erian said. "They probably have hundreds of pigs!"
"Thousands?" Llor asked.
"Hundreds of thousands," Erian said, with full confidence, and then she amended, "Or they could, you know, if the queen wanted, which she probably doesn't, because they're pigs. And she probably wouldn't keep them in the palace anyway, because it's fancy."
"Pigs aren't fancy," Llor said wisely.
"Do these kinds of conversations happen often with you?" Ven asked Naelin.
Naelin smiled, feeling better. "When you have children, you find yourself uttering sentences you've never imagined anyone would need to say, such as ‘You can't go to school naked' and ‘Please don't put a chipmunk in your father's shoes.'" Her smile faded at the memory of that-it had been a funny moment. She and Renet had laughed for a week-Renet kept walking around with one shoe on asking where he could find his other chipmunk. They'd had good moments. Why did he have to ruin it all? She poked at that sadness, wondering if she missed him or just missed what could have been.
"You won't be meeting the queen yet," Ven said, interrupting her thoughts. "She will let us know when she's ready to approve the candidates.
Naelin refused to think about the word "yet." It was far more likely that she'd never be allowed near the queen. The queen of Aratay had far more important people to meet than an ordinary woodswoman.
"Until then, we're going to Northeast Academy."
"Ooh, Headmistress Hanna?" Erian jumped up and down. Naelin felt the same way-she'd heard stories about the famous headmistress. She expected her to be at least nine feet tall and glowing like the moon.
"Yes," he told Erian. "Alet, will you guide them there? I need to go ahead to let the headmistress know to expect you."
"Of course," Alet said.
Naelin tamped down an impulse to grab his arm and say don't leave. She wasn't a child, and she trusted Alet to shepherd them through the city. Still . . . she'd gotten used to traveling with him.
"She'll judge if you're ready," Ven said to Naelin. Without waiting for a response, he sprinted ahead, weaving through the crowds as if they were obstacles in a race.