The Deepest Blue(32)
Kelo felt hope drain out of him, as if he were a sack of sand that had been pierced. “I’m sorry for your loss. What happened when you tried to rescue her?”
“I failed, of course. One against twelve Silent Ones? She was taken to the island, and she lasted for a full week before the spirits got her.” There was pride in his voice—Kelo supposed that was all he had left. If he didn’t feel pride, he’d be swamped with sorrow.
“Then you must understand why I have to try.”
“And you must understand why you cannot see the queen. Every test, she must send twelve women to possible death. She can’t listen to the pleas of their families. It would be too much to ask her to bear. You cannot add to her sorrow. Every guard, every courtier, every counselor will tell you the same.”
Kelo tried again. “But if she would only consider ending the tests—”
“She cannot, for the sake of all of Belene.” The soldier’s pity had an edge of steel in it now. “Go home. Rebuild your life. Hope for your loved one to survive but don’t count on it.”
This couldn’t be it! He’d traveled all the way here, and he was so close! The queen was within these walls. She could stop the test before it began. “There’s still a chance that this time, the queen calls off the tests. If I could only speak to her for one minute before the test begins—”
“I am deeply sorry, but it’s too late. All the spirit sisters have been taken from the strongholds and brought to a secret location for final training. In three days, they will be delivered to Akena Island.”
Kelo felt as if the blue stone bridge had shattered beneath him. “No, that can’t be.” He was supposed to have more time! The tests weren’t supposed to begin until there were a total of twelve spirit sisters. Unless Mayara was the twelfth. . . .
Gently but clearly, the guard said, “Your wife’s fate is in her own hands now. You can’t help her, and neither can the queen.”
QUEEN ASANA OF BELENE WISHED, NOT FOR THE FIRST TIME, SHE could chuck her crown into the ocean. Not literally, of course—the crown itself was a lovely band of black, ivory, and pink pearls that was at least a century old, which, coincidentally, was about how old Asana felt after she’d heard the news that a twelfth spirit sister had been identified and captured. She had received the news from her least favorite nobleman, Lord Maarte, whose oh-so-polite letter had informed her that he and the other Families were delivering the women for their final training.
The twelfth woman had been discovered after a spirit storm had devastated her fishing village—a storm that had hit in the exact location that Queen Asana had predicted, on the southern shore of the island of Olaku. But the Families had decided to dispatch the heirs to protect the Neran Stronghold on the northern shore, near the city of Kao, instead.
It had gotten a bit breezy there.
Innocent islanders died, while the Neran Family, snug and safe inside their fortress and guarded by the most powerful women in Belene, lost a few petals off their fancy rosebushes. If this woman hadn’t stepped in, it was probable that they all would have died.
And how do I repay her? By ruining—and endangering—her life.
Stomping into her private chambers, Asana scooped up a probably priceless heirloom pillow off a couch, squeezed it against her face, and screamed into it. Sadly, it did not make her feel better.
A voice spoke up from one of the other reclining couches. “You could try poisoning someone. That always makes me feel better.”
With as much dignity as she could manage, Asana restored the pillow to the couch and fluffed it back to its original plumpness. She’d forgotten that she’d requested her new adviser join her after her meeting—her adviser had been, in fact, waiting for Asana already when she’d stormed into her chambers. Keeping her voice mild, Asana said, “I’m never quite sure when you’re joking and when you’re serious.” Her new adviser was from Aratay, where she’d held a position of importance in the Aratayian queen’s palace. Her name was Lady Garnah.
“I’ve been told that’s part of my charm.” Lady Garnah smiled cheerfully. An older woman with a fondness for many-layered lace ruffled skirts, Garnah did everything cheerfully, from eating pineapple (which she was currently doing, with juice dripping off her chin) to assisting in the major trauma ward in the healer’s school (which she’d done this morning). Asana found her relentless joy to be both refreshing and fascinating. Perhaps because it’s so different from my relentless doom and gloom.
“Come now,” the garishly dressed woman said, patting beside her. “Tell old Garnah your problems, and I’ll tell you who to kill to fix them. Never met a problem that a little murder couldn’t solve.”
Asana laughed.
She hadn’t expected to ever laugh again, not since she’d been crowned and had her husband, her daughter, and her elderly parents taken from her. She’d had precious little to laugh at.
She’d been introduced to Garnah a month ago, while her capital city, Yena, was recovering from a vicious spirit storm. Asana had collapsed after the attack. Her own physicians blamed exhaustion, but Garnah, a visiting doctor who’d come to the islands to study the medicinal properties of their indigenous plants, had correctly identified a toxin in Asana’s bloodstream and cured her.
She’d then helped Asana poison the one who’d fed her that toxin. Not enough to kill them, but enough that they were still vomiting when the Silent Ones arrested them.