The Deepest Blue(33)
Naturally, Asana was fond of her.
“It’s the Families,” Asana said. “Specifically, the Family Neran. Several days ago, I told them a spirit storm was approaching their island, and they chose to defend their own home rather than help the people actually in danger.”
“Can’t you overrule them? You’re queen.”
“A title that comes with surprisingly little power.” Queens in other countries in Renthia might have true authority, but not the queen of Belene. The Families made certain of that. Asana flopped on one of the couches and removed her crown. She set it gently on a table, which was inlaid with mother-of-pearl mosaic like nearly everything in the palace. She rubbed her temples, wishing she had at least the authority to send her headache away. “I’m the official scapegoat for all that’s wrong on the islands. I’ve just gotten a report cataloging the extent of the damage, so you can expect a delegation from Olaku to be arriving within a few days to complain in person—rightfully—that the heirs, and therefore I, failed them.”
Ugh, it wasn’t fair.
She felt like a six-year-old thinking that, but it was true. She hadn’t asked for this “honor.” She’d simply been unlucky. Three years ago, she’d been one of the heirs, a lesser one in fact. It had been her turn in the grove—every heir was required to spend a certain number of days per month in the sacred coronation grove, so that someone qualified and trained was present in case the current queen died. Without a queen, all the “tame” spirits on the island turned wild pretty much instantaneously. But a new queen could be crowned only in the grove. So to minimize the death and destruction between the passing of one queen and the crowning of the next, every heir took their turn there. No one had expected the queen to die on Asana’s shift.
But she did. Lucky me.
She’d emerged from the grove as Queen Asana, and then she’d found out how much worse being queen was than being an heir. I wouldn’t have thought that possible.
But it was. The instant she’d emerged, she’d been informed by the Families that her loved ones had been taken to a safehold for their protection. No, she couldn’t see them. No, she couldn’t know where they were. No, she couldn’t know which Family held them. And no, she couldn’t tell anyone they’d been taken.
If she wanted to ensure they remained protected, though . . .
She’d tried once to free them, a week after her coronation. In retaliation, the Families had had her husband secretly killed and informed her that her daughter would follow if she did not act “for the good of Belene.”
She’d been made a widow, and the Families had seen to it that no one even knew.
Since then, she hadn’t dared speak or act against them. Which was why she could do nothing about what happened on Olaku except scream into a pillow and vent to her only adviser who wasn’t connected to one of the ruling Families of Belene. So long as they held her parents and daughter hostage, the Families were the true power in Belene. I’m just a puppet . . . and a scapegoat.
“They’ll probably try to kill you at some point,” Asana mused out loud. The Families didn’t like anyone they couldn’t control.
“They can try,” Garnah said. “I’m remarkably difficult to kill.” She popped another chunk of pineapple into her mouth. “But just so I can be prepared, who precisely do you think will try to kill me?”
“Everyone,” Asana said. “Welcome to Belene.”
Picking up her crown again, the queen sighed heavily. She had no right to whine like this when her people had suffered. But there was just so blasted little she could do! She had already ordered workers be sent to help with rebuilding, along with supplies of food and fresh water. It wouldn’t be enough to replace the lives lost, though. Unnecessarily lost.
The thing was, she wouldn’t mind the Families ruling the islands if they weren’t so damn bad at it. And if they hadn’t taken my family and killed my Camuk. Her beloved Rokalara had been fifteen years old when Asana was crowned. She’s eighteen now, a young woman ready for the world, and I’m not there to guide her.
Then again, I can barely guide anyone as queen.
“You need to find a way to take power,” Garnah said, as if hearing that bitter thought. “For your sake and mine. Just because I can defend myself against assassins doesn’t mean I enjoy the anxiety of being a target.”
Asana snorted. “A nice thought, but impossible.” She heaved herself off the couch. Her joints ached a little more than they used to—all the constant stress, and the lack of any real exercise. She knew she didn’t take good enough care of herself, but it was hard to worry about that when there was always some other disaster that needed her attention, in addition to the primary burden of protecting the land from the sea. She’d been warned about that—the constant strain and the drain of keeping the slumbering giants of the sea safely asleep—but the reality was so much more difficult than she’d imagined. It was the reason she needed the heirs to combat spirit storms; with all her power focused on the Deepest Blue, she didn’t have enough strength left over for other battles. And now she needed to find the stamina to handle the administrative duties to see her people through this latest disaster and the emotional fortitude to face the upcoming results of the latest test on Akena Island.