"Good."
Taking a deep breath, Naelin steadied herself. She cleared her mind and then sent a single thought spiraling toward the spirit: More?
It perked up, rising onto its hind legs and pricking its ears forward.
She pictured a nut tree. Painted an image of a belen nut, its pink shell, its chewy inside. She pushed the image toward the spirit. Grow more, eat more.
"Gently," Queen Daleina said. "Only suggest."
Naelin drew back her thoughts. The spirit looked around-down, up, right, left-its movements quick and jerky.
"Focus on what it wants. Encourage that."
You're so hungry. So very hungry. You want more food. She pictured the tree again, with its twisted limbs and wrinkled bark. She filled its branches with clusters of nuts. The spirit chittered like a squirrel, and Naelin tasted the bitter-buttery nut taste on her own tongue.
"Good," the queen said softly. "Now guide it to one of the barren patches. There's one just to the east, half a mile. Just suggest it. Don't order."
"How?"
"Picture it."
"But I've never seen it."
"The spirits have. Reach east, and look through their eyes."
"We can do that?"
The queen placed her hands on Naelin's shoulders and positioned her to face east. "Quiet your own thoughts, and look. Think of their eyes as your eyes."
Naelin reached out, expanding her awareness as Ven had taught her. She brushed past the spirits around the palace. So many spirits. Burrowing, flying, sleeping, crawling . . .
"They aren't Other," the queen said. "They're you. Parts of you. See with them, through them."
She felt . . . Shaking her head, Naelin yanked away. She'd felt their hunger, their hate, and even worse, their indifference. She'd felt their oddness, their slippery, slimy . . .
"You can't hate them," Queen Daleina said, and Naelin thought she sounded sad. "That was the hardest thing, when they crowned me. They'd killed . . . Regardless, you can't hate your foot even if it hurts you. You can't hate your eyes even if they sting. In order to command them with precision, rather than bludgeon them with raw power, you need to accept them as a part of you."
Lovely sentiment, but not practical. "I hate them, and I'll always hate them."
"You can't," Queen Daleina said. "You and I . . . We don't have the luxury of hate anymore."
"I don't forgive easily." She thought of Renet. Thinking of him felt like a fist in her stomach. They were supposed to spend their future together, grow old and crotchety together, bounce grandchildren on their knees, feed each other soup when they grew too weak to chew . . . He'd taken that away from her. She could easily hate him. But not forgive. "It may be that I have personality flaws."
The queen rolled her eyes-a very unqueenly expression. "Do you believe I am flawless?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. Except for letting yourself get poisoned, and then concealing the truth from everyone so that they were caught unprepared when you collapsed." Instantly, Naelin wished she could take the words back. This was the queen. You didn't talk to the queen that way! If Erian or Llor had talked to anyone that way, Naelin would have sent them to sit in the corner on an uncomfortable stool.
But Daleina just sighed, looking-if anything-a bit abashed. "I was attempting to avoid panic and riots. My hope was to have an heir in place before anyone needed to know. But the champions tell me that their chosen candidates are not ready. In fact, they are so far from ready that it's laughable. Whether I hold the trials in ten days or two months, they'll die. All of them. Like the Coronation Massacre, except it truly will be my fault."
Naelin felt as if the air had thinned. "Then why-"
"You are the only one who is close," the queen said, "and if you do not quit clinging to your ego as if your hatred is some kind of child's blanket, then we are all doomed."
"You're much less diplomatic than I thought a queen would be," Naelin said.
The queen blushed slightly. "I've had a bad day."
"No, it's all right. In fact, it's good. You might be young, but you're an excellent queen. I very much hope you don't die." Naelin meant it with all her heart. She'd never truly thought of the queen as a person before, not a real flesh-and-blood one with feelings and thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears.
To Naelin's surprise, Queen Daleina smiled. "Glad we can agree." Reaching out, she took Naelin's hands. The queen's hands were tiny, with bones that felt as light as a bird's, and oddly rough-she had as many climbing calluses as Naelin did. "We're going to try this together. Be ready, though. Using my power can trigger blackouts."