The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia #2)(75)

Reacting to the flame, it shrieked and hurled itself at the bars of the cage. Ice spread across the metal. Beilena backed up quickly, toward the tarp-covered weapons.

"No weapons. Just your mind," Piriandra commanded.

"It's an ice spirit. I've never controlled one before!"

"You have mastery over all, don't you?"

"Y-yes, of course. But . . . but . . . they're rare."

For a second, Piriandra hesitated. It was possible that she'd never faced an ice spirit before. But surely Headmistress Hanna would not have allowed her to be chosen if she hadn't demonstrated mastery of all the spirits. "They're not rare all the time." In the worst winters, the ice spirits howled across Aratay, out of Elhim. They encased the branches in ice, froze the forest streams, and cracked the earth around the roots of the trees. "Remember: it's angry. Don't take your eyes off it."

Wide eyed, Beilena nodded. "It can't get out of the cage, though, can it?"

The spirit flitted from bar to bar, hissing angrily. The metal creaked and popped.

"Of course it can," Piriandra said, and then stepped out of the training room.

Beilena surged forward. "Wait-"

Piriandra slid the lock shut. She heard Beilena scream and for a moment she was tempted to throw the lock open, but no. It was only one spirit, and Beilena was strong enough and clever enough to handle it. She forced herself to step back from the door and walk away.



       
         
       
        

She kept walking, down to the kitchen that she'd stocked with the basics: nut bars, apples, water. She poured honey onto a nut bar and made herself sit, calm, as if her stomach didn't feel like a tight fist.

For all her training, Beilena had always had teachers around her, safety nets. She'd been in the academy, safely in the headmistress's bosom, so to speak. She had to learn she could handle things on her own, and it would defeat the purpose if Piriandra were to rush in there. Give her space, Piriandra told herself. Let her learn. If she continued to have a safety net, she'd never learn to trust herself, and that was one of the most important lessons.

Besides, it was only one spirit. An ice spirit, but still, a small one.

Piriandra ate the nut bar, making herself chew at a normal speed rather than gulp it down. Finishing, she wiped her lips with a napkin and cleaned her plate. She hadn't heard any more screams, and Beilena hadn't called for help, which was good. She wondered if she really would have the strength to stay outside if her candidate did call for her. She was a tough teacher, but she wasn't heartless. And I've already lost one candidate.

She pressed her ear against the door. It was silent in there. A good sign? Except if Beilena had defeated the spirit, wouldn't she have come out? "Beilena? Is it defeated?"

No answer.

If she rushed in and interrupted, then her candidate would think she didn't trust her, which would undermine everything this exercise was designed to achieve . . . "Beilena?"

Still, no answer.

Piriandra flung the door open-everything was coated in ice. She drew her sword. Wind whipped through the open window, but the cloth from the cage didn't stir. It had been frozen solid.

"Beilena?" She stepped inside.

Scanning the room, she didn't see the ice spirit, or her candidate. Everything was frosted white . . . except for the red leaking out from under the tarp. Drawing her sword, Piriandra crossed to it.

She pulled back the tarp.

In the center of the pile of weapons lay Beilena. Her eyes were open, sightless, and a drop of blood had pooled in the corner of her mouth, staining her lips. She had a collection of icicles jabbed into her throat, like a necklace.

She must have gone for the weapons but failed to reach them in time.

It could have happened in the first moments, Piriandra thought. That first scream. But the ice spirits shouldn't have been so hard to control. It was only one, and not overly bright.

A flicker at the window caught her eye, and Piriandra moved toward it, smoothly and silently, her sword raised. The ice spirit lay on the sill. It was still alive. Its arms were missing-those must have been the icicles embedded in Beilena. 

Beilena must have fought back, nearly defeating the ice spirit. In the end, though, it had been too much for her.

Piriandra swore softly, then more loudly.

I should have stayed in the room. I shouldn't have left her alone. She wasn't ready. I knew she wasn't ready. This was my fault. My fault alone.

Piriandra scooped up the weakened spirit on the blade of her sword, carried it to the cage, and locked it inside. She covered it with a cloth. It wouldn't be punished-it had only done what it had been goaded into doing. Spirits used in training exercises were typically exempt from retribution. She'd have to take it away from the capital and release it.