"Make them ready."
"You can't just will it so. Even you, Your Majesty."
She closed her eyes as he laid her gently on the bed. "I can try." Listening, she heard him close the curtains around the bed and back toward the door. She heard him and Alet talk in low voices. He'd stay and guard her, she knew, along with Alet. Ven had trained him well.
He was a good teacher. She thought of his student, the woman Naelin. He hadn't had a chance to answer on her progress before she collapsed. She hoped Naelin was as advanced as he'd expected. From the champions' reports and Havtru's statements, she had the clear impression that no one else was.
She felt a spirit arrive. The curtains shuddered, but she didn't move. Even tired, she knew she could control one spirit if she had to. But if she didn't have to, she wasn't going to expend the energy or risk another false death. The spirit perched at the foot of her bed.
At last, she opened her eyes to glare at it.
It was a tree spirit, tiny and gnarled, with leaves matted all over its body. Possibly the same spirit who had been in her bedchambers before. "Come to gloat?" she asked it.
"Yesss," it hissed.
"If you would be so kind as to gloat elsewhere, that would be delightful." She wished she could tell it to burn. She wanted to destroy every spirit that had participated in today's slaughter.
"Their blood was sweet. It flowed into our branches."
"Go," she told it, but she didn't put the force of a command behind the word.
"We watch. We wait. You will fall again, and more will be ready." It rubbed its hands together, and it sounded like leaves in the wind. "We will feast."
It's right. Next time, the death toll would be worse, because more spirits would be ready, waiting, watching. She couldn't let that happen. As soon as anyone was ready to be heir, she had to abdicate, whether or not the poisoner had been found.
She raised her voice. "Captain Alet! Champion Havtru!"
The two warriors burst into her bedroom, swords and knives drawn. Squealing, the spirit darted out the window. Alet shut and locked the door behind it, and Havtru stalked around the room with his sword raised.
But even with the two of them, she did not feel safe.
Chapter 22
As soon as she felt the queen take control of the spirits, Naelin ran. Scrambling over the roots that bulged out of the walls, she squeezed down the stairs. There were caretakers and courtiers in every room and every hall, with healers moving between them. She saw sheets over bodies, far too many bodies. People-many who looked wounded themselves, who shouldn't even be up-were cleaning the residue from fires and hacking at tree limbs that had grown out of walls. She didn't pause.
Erian. Llor.
She burst into their room-and saw no one. "Erian! Llor! Are you here? Please answer me. Come out. It's safe now. Please be okay." She ran for the curtains that blocked the beds and threw them back. There were drops of blood on one of the sheets. Her knees began to buckle, but she didn't let herself collapse. "Erian! Llor! Come out! It's Mommy!"
She forced herself to stop and listen. She'd trained them to hide. They were sensible. As soon as they knew there was danger . . . but had they had a chance to know there was danger? They'd felt safe in the palace. Quiet, listening, she searched. Under the bed. In the wardrobe. Behind the couch. The upholstery had been shredded. Vines were wrapped around a mirror, and a crack ran down its center.
"Naelin?" Ven was in the doorway.
She ran to him. "I can't find Erian and Llor."
"It was you, wasn't it? You held the spirits."
"Help me look. Please. They would have hid, but there's blood on the bed and . . ." Her heart felt as if it was thumping in her throat. Her children were clever and quick. And small. They could squeeze into places. She scanned the room.
A wardrobe was encased in vines, sealed shut by spirits. Crossing to it, she pressed her ear against the wood. "Erian? Llor?"
She heard a voice from inside, faint, muffled by the thick wood. "Mama?" Llor!
"Llor, baby, are you okay? Is Erian with you?"
"She pushed me in! Mama, I can't get out! It's dark!" She could barely make out the words. She heard him start to cry, or continue to cry, in great heaving hiccups and she turned-but Ven was already there. He swung his sword at the vines, hacking at them.
"Search for Erian," Ven told her. "I'll free him."
"Llor, baby, stay back against the wall. Back! Understand? Champion Ven is going to get you out. I need to find Erian. Do you know where she hid?"
He was still crying, but the answer was no. Erian had pushed him into the wardrobe, told him to be quiet, and promised to get the spirits away from him. My brave girl, Naelin thought.