The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia #2)(87)

"Where's Ven?" Daleina asked. He should be here, defending her. She then squashed that thought. He'd know she was safe while dead. He must have gone to defend those who weren't safe. Like Arin. "I must know what's happened. Help me."

Hurrying to her side, Havtru supported her. More slowly, Piriandra helped her on the other side. Daleina felt as if her bones had been softened into churned butter. Her knees buckled, and she leaned heavily on the two champions.

She made it three steps before she stopped. "This is too slow. Go, both of you. Find out what has happened. Help who you can. I'll regain my strength here."

Piriandra released her, and Daleina sagged half onto the floor until Havtru shifted his weight to support her against his side. "We won't leave you, Your Majesty," he said.

She hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to be alone with anyone, but Havtru was a new champion. He couldn't yet despise her, could he? He could. Any of them could want her dead. Or none of them. Or . . . She couldn't think straight. She felt as if the spirits were shrieking inside her head loud and high enough to shatter her skull. "That's an order."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. Your safety overrides your orders," Havtru said. "Champion Ven was very clear on that, when he recruited me. You had a brush with death. We will not leave you alone until you are fully well."

"Fine. Go, Piriandra. Havtru will prove his worth." She kept her eyes on Havtru, hoping this wasn't a mistake she'd regret, hoping she hadn't misjudged him, hoping Ven hadn't. If she couldn't trust her own judgment, she thought she could trust Ven's.

Champion Piriandra sprinted for the stairs and was running down the steps without a sound. Daleina was alone with Havtru. There wasn't even a breeze. No spirits were nearby.

She went for blunt. "If you kill me when there is no heir, all of Aratay will suffer."



       
         
       
        

His eyes widened. "Your Majesty!"

Either he was an excellent actor, or he was innocent. She chose to believe the latter. Closing her eyes, she reached out her mind toward the knot in the stairs. The hostility had drained out of them, and the fire spirits spread back into the lanterns. She guided the water spirits toward the fires that had started throughout the palace. She set the earth spirits to soothing the fault lines beneath the city. She instructed the tree spirits to regrow the palace, healing the places that had been torn apart, withering the branches that had been grown where they shouldn't. She couldn't sense humans, but she could feel where the spirits had been-the damage they had caused, and she felt her stomach knot. So much damage.

Please, don't let this cause another false death. She had to gain control . . . but gaining it meant risking losing it again. Still, she had no choice.

After she had distributed the spirits, she opened her eyes. Havtru was watching the sky, his back was to her, and he had a staff held ready in his hands. The air spirits filled the sky again, flitting from cloud to cloud, as if they hadn't just tried to kill everyone.

She felt stronger, somewhat. "I need to see."

Putting down his staff, Havtru crossed to her and without a word scooped her up in his arms. She wanted to object, but she knew she didn't have the strength for the stairs. And who will I impress? By now, everyone must have lost faith in me.

He carried her down the stairs. She saw the cracks in the steps, which looked as if someone had tried to tear the staircase away from the wall of the tree. Cracks snaked up the wall, and the railing was strangled with vines. Farther down, she saw vines ran all along the outside of the palace, as if they had wanted to squeeze the walls until they split.

At the base of the stairs, she saw the first bodies: caretakers, two of them, their arms wrapped around each other as if they'd tried to comfort each other. One was young, barely a woman, and her hair was streaked red with her own blood. The man's leg was burned.

The next, farther down the hallway, was unrecognizable, a mass of blackened flesh. "Don't look, Your Majesty," Havtru said.

"I must. This was my fault."

"It was your illness. You cannot blame yourself."

She did blame herself, for not finding the poisoner, for allowing herself to be poisoned, for not pushing the champions harder to find an heir. "Take me to the east staircase."

She passed others who were still alive, but wounded and stunned. They stared at her as she passed. One leapt to his feet and kissed her hand. "You live!" he cried.

"Help them," she told Havtru, pointing to the wounded. "Wrap this around their wounds." She wormed her fingers into one of the holes of her skirt and tore the fabric. Setting her down, Havtru helped her slice off bandage-size strips.