The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia #2)(8)

"You shouldn't have taken the risk," Alet insisted.

"I had to. I had to buy time." She opened her eyes, wishing she could will them to understand, the way she could force her will on the spirits.

Alet was scowling. "Time for what?"

"Time to cure me." Daleina touched Alet's arm, knowing she didn't want to hear this, but it was pointless to hide it anymore, at least from her. The blackouts had started three weeks earlier and were becoming more frequent. "It's getting worse, Alet. The blackouts. I can't predict them. I can't control them. More will die if this sickness . . . or whatever is wrong with me . . . isn't stopped. I had to make a grand gesture while I still could." Shifting on her pillows, she fixed her gaze on Hamon. "You've had my blood for days now. Tell me what you have discovered."

Hamon shifted his eyes toward Alet, as if he wanted to ask her to leave.

Daleina felt her insides clench. It's bad. I know it. He wouldn't hesitate if it wasn't serious. She imagined building a wall around her heart. Whatever the news, it won't break me.

"You should rest first," Hamon said, "and then we'll talk."

Alet's fingers curled around Daleina's hand, but Daleina shook her away and straightened, sitting upright against the gold headboard. She would be strong on her own. "Don't worry about Alet, Hamon. Tell me. This is not a request."

He took Daleina's other hand and held it tight, so she would not pull away. "I have run every test twice. Some even more. Every answer has been the same. I'd run them a dozen more, if I thought it would change, if there was a shred of doubt-"

"Quit dithering, Hamon," Daleina cut him off. Her heart felt as if it were beating doubly loud, and she thought she heard a roaring in her ears. Placing her other hand on his, she pried his fingers off of hers. She laid both hands freely, calmly on her lap. She wouldn't let Hamon or Alet see what she felt. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

"No!" Alet wailed.

"Stop it, Alet," Daleina said, calm. "Hysterics won't help. And it isn't your style anyway. You're a fighter."

Kneeling on the side of the bed, Alet pledged, "Then I will fight this-" 

"It can't be fought, not with knives or words or any tool or herb or potion known," Hamon said wearily. "You have the False Death."

Daleina nodded, as if she had expected it all along. Inside, she felt as if she were crumbling, but outwardly, she merely clasped her hands tightly together. It did explain what had happened in the grove. "That's why the spirits broke my command. And that's why they didn't kill me. They thought I was already dead."

"You were dead," he said. "For a moment."

That's what the False Death was: moments that mimicked death, gradually leading to a true death. Daleina swallowed, but her throat felt dry. "How long do I have?" She was surprised that her voice sounded so steady.

He reached out as if to take her hand again, and then stopped. "I have an herb, glory vine, that will help slow the symptoms. In the meantime, I will search for a cure. Simply because one doesn't exist yet doesn't mean-"

"How long, Hamon?"

He sighed. "Three months. Maybe more, but maybe less. And the false deaths will become more frequent and last for longer as time passes."

"Can we predict them, the false deaths?" If she could predict them, she could avoid the spirits at those times and avoid disasters like what happened at the new village tree. As long as no spirits witnessed her collapse and as long as she wasn't actively connected to any of them . . .

He shook his head. "In most cases, no. But there is evidence that suggests that using power may trigger a false death-that is most likely what happened to you earlier. You should resist commanding the spirits as much as possible."

She could do that, couldn't she?

"But even if you avoid using your power entirely, that will only slow the disease. The false deaths will still come, and eventually . . ." He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to.

Daleina saw the grief in his face and in Alet's. She looked up at the lace canopy instead of into their eyes. She wanted to rage and cry and scream, shout that he had to be wrong, that this couldn't be happening, that it wasn't true. But she didn't, and she couldn't. Not yet. Hold it together. You're a queen. Behave like one. "Summon my champions."

"Now?" Alet said.

At the same time, Hamon said, "You should rest-"

"Call them quickly and quietly," Daleina ordered. "Do not alarm anyone in the palace." She fixed her gaze first on one, then the other. "We cannot afford a panic. Do you understand? What I have to tell the champions is for their ears alone. Alet, gather them now, as many as you can, and brook no argument. Hamon, fetch me a painkiller, one that will allow me to walk to the champions' chamber without anyone suspecting my wounds. I must be seen as strong, for as long as that is possible." She held out her arm so that he could help her stand. She swung her legs out of bed and placed both feet on the floor-pain swept through her body, and she hissed. She forced herself to breathe evenly and straighten. I will not panic, she thought. I will not break.