Listening, everyone was silent. Not everyone, she corrected. Flying through the leaves above, the birds cried and sang. Squirrels scurried through the branches. The spirits burrowed through the earth and slipped through the air.
She did not look at her champions or her courtiers or her caretakers. Not even at Alet or Ven or Hamon. She looked instead into the eyes of the families of the dead. "I want to say I am sorry. I am sorry that I'm standing here, not your loved ones. I'm sorry I couldn't save them. I'm sorry for the emptiness you feel." She smoothed the paper she had in her hand, the notes for her speech, and then crumpled it, and then smoothed it again as she spoke. "I could tell you that time will heal you, but I think that's a cruel thing to say, because right now you don't want time to heal you. You don't want to forget. Because forgetting means that they're really gone." She thought of her friends-Linna's smile, Mari's voice, Revi's laugh. She thought of Master Bei and of her childhood friends, the ones who died in Greytree. "I don't want you to ever forget them. But I do want you to forget this, the pain you feel today that feels as if it's eating your skin and consuming your soul. I want you instead to remember the joy these people brought to your lives. I want you to remember the moments they made you smile, or cry, the moments they made you feel alive. I want you to honor the ways they shaped who you are and who you will become. For they are a part of you, now and forever. And I know that it's not the same. I know that it's not enough. I also know that I cannot truly understand your pain, because your pain is not my pain. It is yours, uniquely yours, and it is all right to feel it fully and deeply for today and for as many days as you need to feel it, until you can feel joy again."
The birds kept singing. The squirrels kept scurrying.
But the spirits were listening.
And so were her people.
"Feel the pain. Feel the anger. Feel the sorrow. Feel the loss. And then when you have felt all of it, forgive them for leaving you. Forgive yourself for still being here." Forgive me, she wanted to say. "Forgive life for being fragile and brief. Forgive time for passing. Forgive . . ." She faltered as her eyes locked onto a child's eyes. He was tiny, maybe four or five years old, and enveloped in too-big clothes that must have been borrowed for the funeral. He was clutching the right hand of a man in caretaker garb. His hand was swallowed in the man's hand, and he was staring at Queen Daleina with red, puffy, angry eyes.
Abruptly, Daleina said, "You deserve to know why."
She heard the champions shift and murmur. One of them said, "Your Majesty . . ."
She quelled them with a look. Raising her voice so that she could be heard beyond the grove, she said, "I am sick. As a result of my illness, I was unable to contain the spirits for a period of time-during that period, your loved ones died. It may happen again, and I may or may not recover. During this time of uncertainty, I ask you all to make every effort to protect yourselves. Prepare charms. Do not travel alone. Keep away from spirits as best you can."
The crowd began to murmur. Some were crying. A few were shouting.
The queen held up both hands. "I have asked my champions to prepare their candidates. Trials for heirs will be held in ten days."
Now the champions were talking, protesting-it was too soon! They couldn't! She was asking the impossible!
"Ten days until the trials!" she said.
And the spirits, without her command, all cried together, "Ten days!"
At the sound of their voices, the people huddled together, looking up at the sky and the trees. Into the silence, Queen Daleina said, "In ten days, you will have an heir. If I am cured by then, the heir will ensure a safe future. If I am not cured by then, I will step down, and your new queen will protect you. Until then, be safe."
Chapter 23
Arin lingered by the window. She heard the bells, muffled, in the distance, hundreds of piercingly sweet bells, and she knew she should be at the funerals. "My sister needs me." She'd seen Daleina only once since the tragedy, for a few minutes to reassure each other that they were alive and unharmed, and then the champions and counsellors and courtiers had needed their queen.
Hamon's mother clucked her tongue. "I need you more, precious."
She felt a sudden warm wave of happiness crash into her-the kind of whiskey warmth that burns down your throat and shoots down your arms and legs. It hit so fast that it made her dizzy, and she turned from the window to smile at her mentor.