The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia #2)(50)

He laid his hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry that the guilt is so bad that you want to jump, but I cannot allow you to do it."

Glaring at him, Hanna pushed away his hand. "I was not about to kill myself. I told you, I wanted fresh air." What she contemplated in the solitude of regret was her business, and she did not welcome his bald words.

"You were feeling melodramatic. But there isn't time for that. You have a job to do."

She bristled more. "I am well aware-"

"I need your help."

She stopped. That was a sentence she hadn't expected him to ever utter. "You?"

"I found a woman with more raw power than I've ever encountered. Problem is, she has no interest in using her power. She wants to pretend she's invisible, live someplace unmemorable with her two kids and-" 

"More power than Fara?"

He flinched, as if the mention of her name felt like a blow. Hanna knew that feeling. "Yes, I believe so," he said. "But she refuses to use it. She wouldn't summon any spirits while we were out in the forest. She's afraid."

Hanna heaved herself up from the window ledge, using Champion Ven's overly muscular shoulder for leverage, and walked to her desk. She eased herself into her chair. "She's right to be afraid. You should know that the other champions are pushing their candidates hard. One candidate died this morning. She was a student at Southern Citadel Academy. A very promising one. I'd considered her the top contender."

She saw memories flicker over Ven's face and knew he was thinking of his former heir, Sata. She'd once been the best of the best, and Queen Fara had killed her for it. "All the more important that I found a strong candidate," Ven said. "She will catch up and surpass the others . . . if she agrees to try."

"Tell me all."

"She's the one," he said. Hanna listened as he told her how he'd found her, what he'd observed, and what he'd planned for her future. He painted a clear picture: a mature woman who knew her own mind but not her own power, a woman who'd settled in marriage but loved her children, a woman whose determination matched Daleina's but whose ambitions didn't extend beyond her own little sphere.

"She's a grown woman," Hanna pointed out when he finished. "What makes you think she'll act the way you want her to act?"

"Because she has a weakness: her children."

Pushing up from her desk, Hanna paced around her office. If this woman were as powerful as Ven suspected, she might be needed more badly than he even knew. Champion Ven didn't involve himself in broader politics, but Hanna stayed abreast of all the news and rumors, and she knew about the problems on the border. Queen Merecot of Semo was stretching her muscles-if she heard of Daleina's weakness, she wouldn't hesitate to strike. Hanna remembered Merecot from when she was a student at the academy and doubted the girl's ambition had dimmed. She was the type to crave power. If she sensed weakness, or worse a power vacuum . . . "Her children are not her weakness."

"Oh?"

"They are her strength. And yes, I do believe we can use that."



Inside the academy, Naelin softly closed the door to the room where both Erian and Llor had fallen fast asleep, side by side in the same cot, cuddling each other like they were both each other's blanket. She leaned her forehead against the door and wished it were possible for her to sleep. She felt bone tired from the journey here . . . all of it new and scary, and the act of staying strong and brave in front of her children was beginning to make her feel like a chunk of cheese rubbed against a grater.

"Asleep?" Alet asked, behind her.

"Like worn-out puppies." Straightening, Naelin turned to face the guardswoman. She was glad to see her again-a familiar face! Alet was dressed in crisp, fancy leather armor, with a royal crest emblazoned on her chest in green and gold, marking her as a member of the Royal Guard. Her hair was neatly coiled, with the white stripe in her black hair pinned back beneath a helmet. She was armed with multiple knives with jeweled hilts that looked as much like ornaments as weapons. "You're going to the palace?" Naelin asked.

Alet nodded. "On my way there shortly. I wanted to make sure you got dinner before I reported for duty."

Naelin felt her lips pull up into a smile, despite her tiredness. The knots in her stomach began to unravel. "Captain Alet, are you mothering me?"



       
         
       
        

"Are you going to let me?"

She thought about it for only a split second. "Absolutely."