"She may not have told her military that," Chancellor Quisala said. "Look at the positions here and here." She pointed at the map that the guard had scribbled all over.
"We signed treaties." Daleina began to feel an ache between her temples. She rubbed her forehead. This was not what she wanted to be doing today. She wanted to be chasing down the poisoner, but she'd already deployed the investigators. In truth, there was nothing for her to do but wait. "She can't declare war on us."
"She can't declare war," Chancellor Quisala said. "But she could wage war."
"Not Merecot. She wouldn't." She knew as she said the words that this wasn't true-Merecot's ambition was boundless-but the timing was terrible. There had to be a way to stop this before it started. Nip it in the bud.
Chancellor Isolek pushed back his chair and paced. "If we move guards into those areas, it will be seen as an act of aggression. We'll have to declare ‘training exercises' as well. It will escalate."
"We have to de-escalate it," Daleina said. Her situation was too precarious for this. She needed all guards near her people, not the borders, in case of another blackout. It didn't matter whether Merecot was honoring their treaties or not. Daleina's people needed to be defended from the danger within; she couldn't worry about the danger without. "I want a message sent to Merecot, a personal message from queen to queen. Remind her of our friendship, and the treaties."
"Polite missives might not be enough," Chancellor Quisala cautioned. Leaning over the map, she pointed to various cities around Aratay. "Here are where our guards currently are. If we pull out of the cities, send them north, and leave defense to the local woodsmen until this is resolved-"
"We can't do that," Daleina said. She wished she could explain why. She knew she looked naïve and inexperienced by refusing to take their advice, but they couldn't know the truth.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, Chancellor Quisala is correct that this requires a response," Chancellor Isolek said. "If training exercises turn into an incursion, we must have troops in place. But we need your approval."
As queen, she was the commander of all military. She had final say over deployment, though she'd never had to use that power before. Until now, the guards had functioned fine without her. Oh, Merecot, not now! "I won't escalate the situation, and I won't approve the repositioning of our warriors. Merecot is not our enemy, and we are not hers. Perhaps Merecot needs to be reminded who the real enemy is, but that won't be done by rattling our swords at her guards."
The border guard bowed. "Your Majesty, if she does-"
"She won't. I know Merecot, and she will listen to reason." Actually, Merecot wasn't known for listening to anyone, but Daleina didn't see much choice. Not when she could still die at any moment. Until they had a sample of poison or at least a viable heir ready, Daleina herself was the greatest threat to Aratay. Since she couldn't say that, though, she'd simply have to be firm and hope her commands at least sounded reasonable enough. "We try diplomacy first."
"And if that fails, Your Majesty?" Chancellor Quisala asked. "You listened to the guard's presentation. You must see the pattern."
"Diplomacy first," Daleina repeated. When they began to object, she said, "Keep me apprised of the situation, but do not leave our cities defenseless against the true enemy because of misplaced fear. You are dismissed." All of them bowed as they left the Sunrise Room, and Daleina wished she'd chosen one of the more somber receiving rooms. Merecot, what are you doing? I don't have time for this now! She sagged in her throne, straightening only when Alet opened the door to allow the seneschal in.
She'd inherited the seneschal from Queen Fara and had seen no reason to replace him. He was scarily efficient, carrying at least twenty lists with him at all times, and had enough knowledge of history and law to fill a library.
She wondered how he'd felt when Fara died and Daleina took the crown. She'd never thought he liked her much, but then again, it didn't seem that he disliked her either. His heart was in his job. Who wore the crown seemed to be irrelevant to him.
But what if it wasn't? He had daily access to her, and she had little choice but to trust him-he was the one who knew the day-to-day details of being queen, managed her schedule, and controlled access to her.
Stop it, she told herself. She couldn't begin suspecting everyone around her. If she died without an heir, the seneschal would lose his job, his purpose. She could trust his commitment to the Crown, if not to her specifically. "What's next?"