The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia #2)(66)

"Determined, though in a different way. She didn't feel as though she was owed the crown like Fara; she felt it was her duty. She'd committed herself to this path at a young age."

"And you? Were you always destined to be a champion?"

"Yes."

Naelin resisted rolling her eyes. This was absurd. She was consorting with born-from-the-womb heroes. She wasn't worthy of this. "You must have made a choice at some point. Something set you on this path. Come on, confess. You weren't born with muscles. Or did you punch your way out of your mother's womb?"

A faint smile crossed his lips, nearly hidden within his beard. "She'd say that's exactly how it happened. She'd like you, I think. She was a mama bear too." He lapsed into silence again, lost in thought.

"You don't normally train people this way, do you?"

"Usually, trainees have to learn to turn their whisper into a shout. You, on the other hand, have to turn a shout into a whisper. If I were to train you the usual way, you'd likely cause a few natural disasters before we were done."

"You aren't comforting." And she didn't like her own thoughts. Insecurity was the shortest path to failure. "Can we just start?"

He nodded abruptly as if she'd interrupted him, and then led the way back inside the room, to the fireplace. Two candelabras flanked it, but the fireplace itself was cold. All the ash had been cleared away. Logs were stacked within, as if for decoration rather than use.

"No surprises," Naelin warned.

"No surprises," he agreed. He drew his sword and crouched, ready. "Start with a fire spirit, call it into the hearth. Concentrate on one that's already in the palace, feel it first, attract its attention, and direct your command at it. Just at it, as if you were whispering and didn't want anyone to overhear."

She widened her awareness, brushing against the tree spirits that skulked in the branches, an earth spirit that snuffled at the roots far below, an air spirit . . . there, a fire spirit, flitting around the balcony curtains, shriveling their edges with its heat. You. Only you. Come to me. She tried to whisper, a gentle command.

She felt the spirit pause, curious. Patches of bark blackened beneath its feet as it lingered on the balcony. She pushed again, harder. You, come to me.

It sped closer, a streak of light. It dived inside the room and straight into the fireplace. Flames shot up a foot, and Naelin scrambled back, but then the fire calmed, and the spirit spun inside it, dancing music-less. It was no bigger than her hand, with a body made of fire and a face of twisting flame, white at the core, a molten gold chest, orange arms, and red hands that ended in black fingers. Its eyes were ember, and its mouth held a tongue of flame that flicked in and out. 

Naelin studied it. It stared back.

"Good," Ven said.

"It was the only one nearby."

"Still, good. See if you can command it."

It flickered as it moved, and Naelin realized its ember eyes were trained on her, as if waiting. "To do what?" The firelight danced, and Naelin felt as if she couldn't look away. She felt the warmth on her skin and inside her, as if the fire were inside her chest.

"Control which log burns-and which one doesn't."

She eyed one log, a thick chunk of oak. It was untouched by flame yet, waiting for one of them to toss it in. Burn that.

With a cackling howl, the fire spirit dove onto the log. Flames shot out of the hearth, raced across the room, and hit the bed. One of the silken pillows burst into flames. Running, Naelin grabbed a pitcher from the washbasin and hurled its contents onto the bed. Water dampened the flames, and smoke curled up to stain the canopy. Shrieking, the spirit fled, bursting out the archway to the balcony and shooting straight up to blend into the stars.

"On the plus side, you didn't destroy the palace," Ven said mildly.

Naelin stared up at the stars. "I may need more practice."





Chapter 17




Lying flat on the floor, Daleina stared up at the painted ceiling. She took a breath and then another, pushing her fear deep down inside her, burying it beneath her breath. You have to do this. It was her duty, despite the risk. Slowly at first, she sent her awareness out. If she was careful and slow . . . maybe the False Death wouldn't come. She touched the spirits in the palace first. Present in every corner of the complex, they felt like a buzzing on her skin. She then expanded to the capital, touching the earth spirits that burrowed beneath the roots and the air spirits that flitted between the trees. There were fewer in the busier areas of the city and then more as she spread outward-

Click.

She heard, distantly, the door to her bedroom open and then footsteps coming closer, but her mind felt stretched like bread dough. She kept her focus on the spirits-if anyone hostile tried to enter her room, Alet would stop them. And if Alet failed, Bayn would defend Daleina. Ever since he'd returned, he had stayed by her side. He was with her as often as Alet and more than Arin. Her sister had visited her only twice since coming to the palace. Safer that way, Daleina told herself, and pushed that bit of hurt down with the fear. After all, she was risking another false death right now. It was better that Arin was nowhere nearby. She continued to reach out, spreading herself across the forests of Aratay.