The True Queen Page 10

  My throat is tight as I say, “I promised her I would lead them. Make a home for them.” I wince. “In Kupari.” My supposed homeland and domain—and the source of all this agony.

  “We’re not in Kupari right now,” Jaspar says. “The ground is so unstable there that we camped outside its borders. Kauko here says that it’s the impostor queen and her followers—they’ve upset the balance of magic. Kauko himself was feeling the effects—it was making him sick.”

  As if summoned by the mention of his name, the old man appears at Jaspar’s side. He’s no longer completely bald—he has a helmet of dark hair over his round head. It makes him look younger, though I’m not sure how old he actually is. His skin is smooth and holds a healthy glow at odds with the gaunt looks of the Krigere warriors who cautiously pass my cot and gather around the fire where Carina sits. How has he fared so well? “My magic,” he says, wiggling his fingers over my body. “I nearly lost control.”

  “He and his priests nearly set the camp ablaze,” Jaspar says. “But once we crossed the border out of Kupari again, all of them were fine.”

  Kauko must discern the look on my face, because he says, “You felt it too. The sickness in your magic.”

  I cannot deny it. “As soon as we reached the Kupari border.” I glare at the cuff on Kauko’s thick wrist. “And that was the only thing keeping me well.”

  He touches the cuff. “I needed it to heal you, my Valtia. Without it I might have killed you.”

  “It’s true,” Jaspar says. “He tried. It hurt both of you.”

  I still hurt. Every part of me aches and itches. “Give it back, then.”

  “When you are well and able to wield your magic, it will be yours, my Valtia. Until then, I use it to defend the camp and heal all wounds.”

  He thinks I have forgotten how greedy he is, apparently. But right now there is nothing I can do—I’m too weak to move and held here by bonds of iron. If I tried to use magic to melt them, I would burn my own hands off. “I’ll need it before I go back to Kupari. I’ll be dangerous without it.”

  They both nod. “The impostor is destroying the land,” says Kauko, frowning. “It rebels against her rule. Or perhaps she has found a way to cause the tremors—to stop us.”

  I look up at these two men. They’ve both earned agonizing death several times over, and I dearly wish I could offer it to them now. I don’t want to believe a word they say, but something about this explanation makes sense. If this fraud does not have magic, she wouldn’t be affected the way true magic wielders are. Has she found a way to hold me back and defend her throne?

  Was Sig her ally all along?

  The memory of him and the other one, the big ice wielder, flashes in my mind. Sig had told me that the impostor queen had a powerful ice wielder at her side. Did the impostor send the two of them to destroy us? Was it her wielders who attacked our camp? She could not have landed a more devastating blow to our people.

  Or maybe these two men are lying to me, just as they have in the past. Maybe they are using me, just as they have so many times before. But they are also offering me something—a target for my vengeance. “Jaspar, I’ll drink the broth.”

  He grins and carefully holds the wineskin while Kauko slides his arm under my head to lift it. He is gentle and sure in his movements, as if he is accustomed to caring for people. “You must drink it all,” he says. “You will run dry if you don’t.” His breath is terrible. I’d obey him just to escape it.

  Also, he’s right—I feel like a fallen leaf crisped by the sun. I drink slowly, and finally the old man takes the skin from Jaspar. “She will need solid food by tomorrow. Meat.”

  “I’ll have Carina and Rask go hunting.” Jaspar pats his belly and gives me an apologetic look. “We’ve mostly been living off the edible plants this forest has to offer—it’s a good thing it’s so vast, for there are nearly two thousand of us with warriors and andeners combined. If Kauko hadn’t been with us, we all would have starved by now! But he was able to send a signal that drew many of his fellow exiled priests and apprentices back to his side, and they have kept us protected and fed.”

  He pats the elder’s back and walks away, leaving me chained and helpless and staring up at the man who drank my blood. “I would kill you if I were strong enough,” I blurt out.

  I didn’t mean to say that, and again he seems to read my chagrined expression, because he laughs. “Warrior Valtia,” he says, his tone one of approval. “You and I will reclaim Kupari from the impostor. My brothers in magic will help.”

  I stare up at him, a war raging in my chest. This man is evil. And he is a liar. But he knows magic, and he knows Kupari. He knows this impostor who sits on the throne. I know none of those things. I don’t even know where our loyal warriors are—they might not even know Thyra is gone. They might have perished in the fire I created in my storm of grief. I am blind, and Kauko has eyes. He also, apparently, has allies who can help. And I will need that help if I am to avenge my love.

  Despite all that, I crave his destruction. But . . . it is almost as if I can hear Thyra whispering in my ear. Control yourself, she says. For once. The memory of her rueful smile makes me grimace to keep from crying. Kauko clucks his concern and swipes a warm cloth across my face.

  “You are the strongest Valtia who has ever lived,” he says quietly. “You have the power to punish the ones who destroyed her. I can help you. We want the same thing.”

  I think this might be the first truth he has spoken. Our eyes meet. “I want to be the one who kills the impostor,” I say slowly.

  He smiles. “You cannot kill her with magic. It has no power over her.”

  “I can kill her with a dagger just as easily.”

  “Yes,” he says. “We must cut through her wielders first.”

  “They’re the ones who killed Thyra.”

  “Yes. Sig. You were saying his name as you started to awake.”

  “He betrayed us.”

  “Because that is what he is. Remember he betrayed me first. After I had saved his life.” The old man’s softish face has taken on a hard look. “He and I will meet again.”

  For some reason, I am relieved to hear that he wants to be the one to kill Sig. I still can’t believe what the fire wielder has done, and I want him dead, but . . . I remember what he taught me, how he and I were friends once. Or, at least, I had thought so. “Who was his ally?” I ask. “The dark ice wielder.”

  “I do not know his name. But he and Sig are a pair. They are Suurin. Together they are nearly as powerful as the Valtia.” Kauko looks as if he has swallowed something bitter. “I do not know why they serve one so unworthy.”

  “Who is this impostor?” I ask. “How does she have that much control over them if she has no magic?”

  Kauko sinks down and settles himself next to my cot. “It is my fault. I nurtured this snake, and I should not be surprised it bit us.” He points to my calf, where my red flame mark rests beneath the covering of my stocking. “Your mark emerged the moment of the old Valtia’s death. Her name was Kaarin. She served well for many years, and we served her. She was succeeded by Sofia, another loyal and tireless queen. She gave her life protecting Kupari from Krigere.”

  For a moment I can’t breathe. Sofia. The witch on the lake. She was the one I nearly touched. She was the one who killed all my people—and saved me. “And her magic is inside me now.”

  “We thought it would pass to Elli. That is the impostor’s name. She has a mark as well, and we were so sure we had the right girl. Now I know how wrong we were.”

  “What did you do when you realized she wasn’t the rightful heir to the magic?”

  He looks anguished. “We tried to explain to her that we had been wrong! But she wouldn’t accept it. She said the throne was hers. When we refused to let her rule, she stole away to the outlands to recruit an army of wielders from the criminals who live there. Sig was among those she enticed, probably with promises of wealth and power. When they stormed the temple, w
e fought hard to protect it—and the young Saadella who is still captive there.”

  My heart squeezes suddenly. “The Saadella.”

  His eyes glint. “She will receive the magic when you die. In many ways, she is your daughter.”

  Daughter. I look away. I cannot imagine it, yet as he says the words, I know he has spoken another truth. Unbidden, a part of my heart that I did not know existed steps into the sunlight and takes its first breath. “What is her name?” I ask quietly.

  “Lahja,” he says. “She has hair exactly your color. Eyes exactly your color. A mark exactly the shape of yours—only hers is on her back. It hurts that I cannot protect her now.”

  “Will they hurt her?”

  “If the impostor decides Lahja is a threat to her claim on the throne, she might have done so already. And if that is the case, the magic will die with you. This cannot happen.”

  “And if I die now?”

  “The magic will enter her. But she is just a little girl, with no priests to train her.”

  I think back to all the times this magic has hurt me. Burned me, frozen my skin, left me with scars. And I picture this tiny girl, a younger version of myself, suffering and screaming in pain. I suck in a deep breath, and for the first time since Thyra’s death, there’s a moment when I am grateful to still be alive.

  “You look like a woman who lives for more than herself again.” Kauko pats my arm.

  “You think we can regain the temple?” I ask. “What of the people of Kupari?”

  “When you show them you are the true Valtia, they will rejoice,” Kauko says. “With priests by your side and magic at your fingertips, it will be easy to show that you belong on the throne. Though we may have to fight for the temple, the people will not stand in your way. They crave a queen who will take care of them.”

  “But I . . . I have to take care of the Krigere first.”

  Kauko bobs his head, sounding excited now. “Yes, you must. I understand this is your responsibility. Which is why I will help manage the temple. I did it for years.”

  “But the Saadella is mine.” It comes out of me without thought or calculation. It is just a fact.

  Kauko chuckles and holds up his hands. “I would expect nothing less. But perhaps you will agree she is safer in the temple than in the wilderness, assuming the temple still stands.”

  If it does, I will take it apart brick by brick just to get to her. “She will be wherever I am.”

  His hands fall to his lap. “I am your ally.”

  My hatred of him doesn’t allow any room for trust. Sig told me Kauko drained the blood of the Valtias past, and that matches what the elder has done to me. But I also know the impostor queen is my enemy, and I have no hope of getting to her if I don’t have help. I am weak—and I could wander lost in the woods for months without even knowing how to find Kupari, let alone make it to the temple. “Tell me what you want of me.”

  “I want you to heal. Then we will march on the city and save the land from the impostor. You can avenge your chieftain. You can save your Saadella. You can make a new home for your people. I can help you make all these things happen.”

  “And in exchange?”

  His expression goes soft and sad. “I am an old man. Older than I look. I merely want a safe haven for my priests now. I want the Temple on the Rock for my own. I want to see Kupari prosper as it did before the impostor attacked and destroyed my home.”

  I care little for buildings. Before Vasterut I had never even seen shelters so huge—they felt like caves. Or cages. I prefer sleeping under stars. “Very well. You can have your temple.”

  Kauko bows. “Allies.”

  I stare at the top of his dark brown head. Thyra made me promise to take care of our people. This is what she would want, if it keeps our warriors safe and alive. And it is what I want, if it means avenging her death. “All right. Allies.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Elli

  My hands shake as I hold them over Sig’s sweat-streaked chest. I avoid his gaze, because the last time I looked into his eyes, I saw how frightened he was. He is probably remembering the last time I was this close, and how I turned his own fiery magic against him. “I won’t hurt you, Sig. We’re on the same side.”

  A dry, nervous chuckle escapes him. “Ah, words. I learned long ago not to trust them.”

  Oskar reaches out an unsteady hand and touches Sig’s shoulder. His other, the one that is white and still and dead, remains tucked against his side. “She has more control than she did when you were with us last.”

  Sig looks over at his opposite, his enemy and, I suspect, the only person in the world that he actually loves. “Easy for you to say. She’s never roasted you from the inside out.”

  “I never deserved it like you did,” Oskar growls.

  Sig grins, though it looks more like a grimace. “You’re just as boring as I remember.”

  “I saved your life in those woods.”

  “And I saved yours.”

  “Yes, yes, we’re all happy to be back together,” says Raimo, who is sweating even though the only fire in the lean-to—apart from Sig himself—is a single candle held by Freya, who we allowed back in to assist. But she is a fire wielder as well, and is giving off waves of heat. “Child, calm down or I’ll send you outside.”

  Sig raises his head. “I always knew you were more like me than your older brother,” he says to her.

  Freya throws her shoulders back. “Quit trying to put this off, you big coward. Shut your mouth and let them heal you.”

  He laughs now, more than a chuckle. “I missed you too.”

  I stare at his face, his scarred cheeks. Freya and Oskar are as close to family as Sig has, and though he has done terrible things to them, somehow they have welcomed him back. I have too, because I think Oskar needs him. As bad as both of them look, I think they’d already be dead without each other. “I’m going to channel Raimo’s magic now.”

  Raimo and I talked about how to perfect this process as we rode through the woods. Last time, he was trying to control it while he used me like a funnel. But the unsteadiness of the land has infected his magic, and I must be more than a simple tunnel through which the fire and ice flows. I have to learn how to heal as if the magic were mine alone. So Raimo lectured me on how it’s done, and now he mutters reminders.

  “Stay focused on one place—don’t let your eyes or mind wander.”

  I stare at the blistered patch of skin just below Sig’s right collarbone.

  “Don’t overdo it, or you’ll go too deep. You’ll damage what’s beneath the surface.”

  “Stars,” mutters Sig. “Maybe I’m better off—” He gasps as the magic pours from the old man, through my body, and then from my hands. I do exactly as Raimo instructed, narrowing my gaze to a tiny patch of skin, making it my whole world. My hands tingle, pins and needles, tiny sparks of ice and fire combining in a way that defies nature. This is the heart of magic—we understand ice and fire, but when their source is magical, their power goes beyond heat and cold, snow and flame. They become something vast and indescribable, inhuman . . . divine. Suddenly, the responsibility of bearing this gift from the stars weighs heavy on me. I know I’m meant to do something with it, but right now I will use it to heal this Suurin, because we need him to save us.

  I am not aware of time. I am only aware of the skin beneath my hands. I try not to think about whether it belongs to Oskar or Sig. As Suurin, they are equally important. As men, only one has my heart. Right now, though, I am not a woman—I am the Astia, and I will magnify and direct the magic of a powerful old wielder as it does its work on their bodies.

  “Elli, that’s enough,” Raimo says. It’s the catch in his voice that causes my fingers to curl into fists, which ceases the flow of power from my palms.

  “What?”

  “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  I look down at my hands and try to steady them, but it’s impossible. “I . . .”

&nbs
p; “You did well,” says Oskar. He looks so much better. I can still see the faint flush of frost on his cheeks and brow, the harsh crust of it in patches on his arms and chest, but he is no longer a ruined mess, and neither is Sig, though the fire wielder bears scars from other run-ins with fire—probably from that night in the temple when I kept him from getting his revenge on Kauko at the expense of Lahja’s life.

  “Not bad,” says Sig, running his hand over his scarred jaw. “I may yet find love.” He snorts.

  “Now that every word isn’t agony, you need to tell us what happened,” says Raimo. “How on earth did you end up killing . . . who did you kill, exactly?”

  “That’s just it,” Oskar says. “I don’t think we killed anyone.”

  My heart skips a beat. “So Ansa only thinks her love is dead? This is much better news than I—”

  “No, Elli—I saw the woman fall, and I saw Ansa run to her.”

  “He’s saying we didn’t kill her,” says Sig.

  I look back and forth between them, and Raimo does the same. Then, at the same time, we both say, “Kauko.”

  And Oskar and Sig say, “Yes.”

  Raimo tugs at his beard, his fingers tangling in the scraggly strands. “Explain.”

  “We spotted the elder as we approached the place where Sig thought the Valtia would be,” Oskar says. “There was fire raining from the sky. When we got close enough, we saw who was attacking—it was Kauko. But as we got closer, the young warrior came charging up from a hollow.”

  “If I know Thyra, she was stalking him,” says Sig. “That one never made an impulsive move in all her life.” He winces and turns away. “She didn’t deserve to die that way.”

  Oskar looks grim. “She chased him into a clearing, dodging the magic he hurled behind him. We ran along either side, and we tried to counteract what he was throwing. We protected her.” His broad shoulders sag. “Until she charged unexpectedly.”

  “And here is where the elder’s cunning comes through in the extreme.” Sig’s lips have a harsh and bitter twist to them. “He brought his hands together and hit her on either side—with fire on the left, and ice on the right. So it looked—”