The True Queen

  I rock her as I walk to the open front of the grand chamber, which faces out on the white plaza and the city beyond the walls of the temple. What I see lances at my heart. Plumes of smoke rise over Kupari, and a few of its tallest buildings have collapsed, leaving nothing but jutting timber and loose piles of rock. The plaza itself is fissured, with slabs of marble upended to reveal bare earth underneath. What had remained of the towering Valtia statues after our battle for the temple is now two shattered stumps of crystal and stone. My city lies in ruins, and my people are hurting, and to protect them, I must rely on the magic of others.

  I turn my back to it, focusing within for the moment, because without the souls in this temple, I am lost. “Kaisa,” I call out, “are you hurt?”

  Kaisa rubs stone dust from her short blond hair. There is a smear of dirt across her cheek that covers the mole there. She laughs, a rustling, labored sound. “I’m not hurt. Just . . .” Her hand shakes as it falls to her side.

  Like Oskar and Raimo, something is not right with her. But when she sees me watching her with concern, she shakes her head. “I am completely at your service, Valtia. Tell me what you need from me.”

  “I need you to take her,” I say, kissing Lahja’s tear-damp cheek. Her grip on me tightens, and I press my lips to her ear. “You are safe, my darling,” I whisper. “And I must make sure everyone else is safe too. This will be your responsibility one day, but on this day, it is mine. Can you understand? It’s what we were made for.”

  Well. I’m not sure what I was made for, but I know it wasn’t to sit around and let others face their fate alone. Perhaps because she is truly meant to be Valtia one day, Lahja nods her agreement. She senses that the Kupari are ours to protect and nurture, and she understands that our own comfort is less important. She allows Kaisa to take her once more.

  “Is her chamber safe?” I ask.

  “It is.” Kaisa turns as Raimo slowly walks out with Janeka leaning on his arm, making sure Lahja is looking at me instead of her sister. The girl has scrapes and bruises on her face but otherwise seems unhurt.

  “Please get her cleaned up before she comes to attend the Saadella,” I tell Raimo. Lahja will be scared if she sees Janeka bleeding like that.

  Raimo nods. “Afterward I’m going to the library.” His tone tells me all I need to know—he is as surprised by this earthquake as the rest of us.

  “Only a few columns in Lahja’s chamber collapsed,” Kaisa says. “Janeka was on the balcony clearing the tea when the ground began to shake. She caught the worse of it.”

  “Stay with Lahja and do not leave her side,” I instruct. “You know your priority.”

  She nods solemnly, and when I catch her eye, the flames there tell me she will protect the Saadella with her life.

  With my princess as safe as our current predicament allows, I turn back to Oskar. He still sits on the floor of the grand chamber, his long legs stretched over the gold infinity symbol of the Valtia, his right hand still tucked into his tunic.

  “Let me see it,” I say.

  “No.”

  “Oskar.”

  He raises his head. “I am not your concern.” I can tell he is working to keep his voice steady. I can also tell he is scared.

  I drop to my knees. “You have no right to say that to me, and you know it.” I gesture impatiently at his hidden hand.

  He sighs and slowly draws it from its hiding place. He breathes slowly, his nostrils flaring, as it dangles limp in front of him. His fingers are still white, like the hand of a corpse, and his skin only becomes alive at his wrist. “It’s not good.”

  Gently, as if handling the most delicate porcelain, I lift my palm to hold its weight. It’s not cold, not frozen. It’s just . . . dead. “What happened?”

  He opens his eyes but looks away from me. “It froze.”

  “But you’ve been wielding ice magic for many years. You—” As he squeezes his eyes shut, I realize. . . . “I did this?”

  “No.”

  “Yes. I did.” I did something wrong. I pulled too hard or too quickly or in the wrong way. “Oskar.” That is all I can say. Tears swallow the rest of my words.

  “It was us together,” he says quietly, staring at the back of the chamber, at swirls of copper that have torn loose from the walls and glint dully in the rays of the sinking sun. “I felt it happening. My hand was caught beneath your body, and it just . . .”

  I cover my mouth to stifle the sob. “We can see what Raimo can do. He can heal you.”

  “Perhaps,” Oskar says, sounding bleak.

  “I want you to rest now. Will you do that?”

  It is a testament to his exhaustion that he does not argue. “Will you be with Raimo?”

  I nod. “Regain your strength. Will you do that for me?”

  “There will be other people in this temple who need help.”

  “I understand. You must rest so you can assist. But right now . . .”

  “Go see Raimo. I’ll be all right.” He holds his arm pressed to his middle as he rises from the floor.

  I stroke his sleeve as he steps out of my reach. “I will come find you soon.”

  He nods as he walks away. I watch him for a moment, my throat tight, and then march toward the library. My steps are hardened by fear for the people I love. I find Raimo sitting on the floor of the library, surrounded by scrolls. They’ve all fallen from their shelves, most of which are overturned or collapsed. The old man has cleared himself a space and reads by the light of a ball of fire that floats a few feet from his shoulder. Every few seconds, it sputters and throws off sparks. When they land on his shoulder, he brushes them away with an unsteady hand.

  “We’ll need to meet with the council,” he says without looking up. “The city will need help from the temple to recover.”

  I groan inwardly. The last thing I want to do right now is meet with our esteemed town leaders, the richest merchants of Kupari who always seem to be seeking ways to get richer. They resent my refusal to use the Valtia’s magic to solve every problem, as well as my demand that we arm ourselves against the barbarians.

  This earthquake is unlikely to make them more cooperative.

  “I will summon them here tonight.” Because it is my burden, and there is no one else to bear it.

  I bite my lip as I glance down at the scroll he’s reading. It’s a star chart, not a text. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  “It is completely without precedent.” He offers a wry smile. “But so are you. So is our lost Valtia who has none of your balance.”

  “Are we responsible for this?”

  His smile fades. “I don’t think so. I think this was caused by something else.”

  “Do the stars give you answers?”

  “Ha. They only reveal more questions.” He curses and tosses the scroll aside before grabbing another. “But I have long wondered what would happen if the Kupari people pulled all the copper from the ground.”

  His words wind around my chest, making it hard to breathe. “You think we’ve destabilized the land itself.”

  “It’s possible these wounds are entirely self-inflicted. I must do more digging before I’m sure, but I’ve been expecting something like this. The elders were hoarding copper, thinking that would save them. Instead, they’ve pushed us to the edge of a cliff.”

  I think back to what Raimo told me about what might happen when the last copper was mined. “You told me the fire and ice magic might just disappear—or turn on its wielders. . . .” I look down at his shaking hands. “And it looks like the latter. Every magic wielder felt it before it hit. You, Oskar . . . all of you said you felt off today. And then the ground began to shake.”

  He holds his trembling fingers in front of his face. “Oskar felt it too, you say?”

  I nod. “Worse than you did, I think.”

  “Of course he did. Much more power. Far less balance,” Raimo mutters, then curses again. “Elli, I might have been right about the copper but wrong a
bout the war.”

  “I would be grateful if you were. You think the Soturi will leave us alone?”

  He shakes his head. “I think we’re more vulnerable than ever, and if they still desire our riches, now would be the best time to attack.” He chuckles, but it is pure desolation. “I mean that it might be the least of our worries now.”

  “How can invading barbarians be the least of our worries?”

  When he looks up at me, my stomach knots. I have never seen the old man look scared until this moment. He searches my face, then smiles. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve barely begun to explore what could be happening and how it might be remedied. Go summon the council and let me do some research, and we will speak later tonight.”

  When I don’t move, he shoos me away. “Go busy yourself being the queen! Take Oskar with you.”

  I swallow back the sick feeling I have when I picture his hand. “I can’t. He is injured. He needs your healing touch.”

  Raimo sighs as he lowers his unsteady hands to the scrolls piled on his lap. “I will attend to him shortly.”

  “He needs you now, I think.”

  “Elli, at present I’m not sure I could do much for him. Or, more accurately, I’m afraid I might damage him further.”

  I stare down at his twitching fingers. “Gather your strength then,” I say firmly. “Then you and I will attend him together, and you will tell me what to do. I can amplify your magic—these tremors do not affect me.” And I feel desperately guilty—if it weren’t for me, Oskar’s hand would be fine.

  Raimo’s bushy eyebrows rise. “Now, there’s an idea.”

  “When I next see you, I would like to hear answers. I need to know why this is happening now. And I would like to know what I can do.”

  I leave him with the weight of that responsibility and stride back toward the domed chamber, breathing steadily and counting each step. If I think too hard about what I am facing, I will fall to my knees and weep. If I give all these threats to our existence even one chance to grip me, they will pull me down into its watery pit and drown me. So I steel myself against the doubt, the worry, the future. I take one step, and another, and another, and do not let myself think beyond it.

  I am one girl. I am an impostor. My city is rubble. My people are hurting. And the Soturi are coming for us. The gnawing ache of what is missing—my Valtia, the real one, the half of me I have never met but crave with every heartbeat—coils inside me, hidden and hurtful. But she is not here, and I am all the Kupari have. Somehow, I must be enough.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ansa

  When I wake, I am beneath Thyra’s blanket. Her lean arms are wrapped around me, and she is molded to my back. I can feel her warm breath on the nape of my neck. The sun is sparkling off dewdrops in the meadow and lighting the edges of the blackened forest, and the air is clear, no longer hazy with smoke.

  “Are you awake?” murmurs Thyra.

  “I am now.” I lay my palm over hers where it rests over my heart.

  “Last night, when you came to me, you didn’t answer when I spoke to you,” she says as I turn to face her.

  Our noses touch as I reply, “I think I was walking in my sleep.”

  “Your body knows what it needs even when your mind is stubborn, then.”

  I let out a quiet laugh. “I suppose it does. I didn’t hurt you?”

  “The opposite.” Her fingers push my coppery hair away from my brow. “Are you ready for today?”

  My gaze strays over her shoulder, back to the forest. “I don’t know. I still feel unsteady inside. Like a dam about to burst.”

  She touches the cuff of Astia. “Doesn’t this make it better?”

  “I’d hate to think of what I’d be like if I didn’t have it.”

  “So . . .”

  “I’ll be fine.” Even if it takes every ounce of restraint I possess. I will not lose control again—the future of the Krigere is depending on it. “Shall we go?”

  She smiles. “As you wish, my queen.”

  I spend a few luxurious moments kissing her, and then we get up and help the others break camp. They are quiet, grim and focused. As warriors, they are not about to voice fear aloud, but I can smell it on them—and on my own skin. My attention keeps straying to the forest like a rabbit to bait in a snare.

  By the time the sun tears itself loose from the horizon, we are leading our skittish mounts into the Loputon Forest. I leave the narrow, barely there footpath for a few moments to do my business behind a broad tree, and as I return, I catch Preben’s eyes as he and Bertel move up to walk next to Thyra. The cold distrust in his gray gaze chills me, mixing with the icy magic inside me and wrenching a shiver down my spine. This is the way he looked at Sig, and now Sig is gone.

  It reminds me of how all of us were calling magic “witchcraft” only weeks ago. It reminds me of what we have done to suspected witches among us. I remember, so long ago, when I was still a raid prize, only just brought into camp. The man in blue was a prisoner too, and warriors had staked him to the ground. His screams made me clap my hands over my ears. Then I couldn’t see him anymore, because all the Krigere gathered around, stones in their hands. His shrieks didn’t last long after that.

  Afterward, I asked the warrior who had stolen me what the man had done. I still recall how the Krigere language rolled in my mouth like stones in a tumbler. My captor gave me a funny look, and I thought at the time it was because he was shocked that a child—a prize of war, no less—was bold enough to speak to him, or maybe that I had mastered his language so quickly.

  “The man is a witch,” he said to me. “From Kupari.” Then he spat on the ground at my feet. “Remember that.”

  Now I know his look, his disdain, his warning. . . . It is because he knew—I was Kupari as well.

  My memories roam the inside of my skull as we pick our way along through thigh-high brambles and brush. It is slow work, and the already tense mood only gets worse as the daylight disappears behind the forest’s shield of leaves and branches. My own temper grows thin and taut, stretched like a hide on a rack. With every step, I am deeper into this land, but it feels like it’s about to fall out from under my feet. My heart beats wary and wild, unwilling to carry a solid rhythm to calm my nerves. And the cuff on my wrist hums, a vibration that travels along my bones and into my skull, where it grows into a blinding headache. The strange urge to tear the cuff off my wrist nearly overtakes me on several occasions, but each time, I clench my fist on the reins of the piebald mare I’m leading. She whinnies her displeasure, or perhaps her fear, but I’m too lost in my own suffering to tend to her.

  On three separate occasions, the ground rumbles beneath our feet. Nothing like the first temblor, but enough to make us stop and hold our breath as the trees sway over our heads, branches clacking in warning while our horses scream. The shaking ends quickly each time, though, and we press on, our pace a little quicker.

  We stop for noonmeal long after our stomachs complain. It is dark even though the sun must be directly overhead, streaming over the forest canopy. In the depths of the woods, almost none of it reaches us, save for a thin golden beam here and there along the surface of the rotting leaves at our feet. We do not light fires; I think after watching Sig make the forest explode into flame, none of us are tempted.

  I squat next to Thyra, who is sharing a log with Preben and Bertel. “Sig said it would take a day to clear the forest and reach the outlands of Kupari. We must be close.”

  “Assuming he was telling the truth,” mutters Bertel.

  I squint, trying to read his expression. “You think he wasn’t?”

  “It would have been a great way to lead us into a trap,” Preben says. “We’re all so desperate for a new, safe haven that we followed him here—”

  “Are you questioning Thyra’s leadership?” I ask.

  “It’s a fair question,” Thyra says quietly. “Sig left us the moment we reached the border. He could have run to tell the impostor where we are, an
d the exact number of our forces. Or he could have fled to find Jaspar and Kauko, wherever they are. We only know he didn’t stay with us.”

  I stand up again as the fire inside me flares. “You saw him. You all saw him. He was scared. It was not the look of a schemer.”

  Thyra’s eyes lock with mine, and I know she’s recalling what I told her about how Sig got me away from Kauko—by using the elder’s own thirst for power against him. It was indeed a clever scheme. “That was different,” I say. “And it should tell you how much he hated Kauko. Why would he run to him now?”

  “Seeking revenge,” Preben says. “Or maybe his mind is so warped that he returns to the one who abused him. We see this in prisoners and raid prizes all the time.”

  I turn away from him, unable to dismiss the implication as unintentional. “I am going to fill my waterskin at the stream.” It comes out of me flat and cold, my breath huffing in a white cloud in front of me.

  Part of me hopes that Thyra will follow, but the rest of me is glad when she doesn’t. I kneel by the burbling stream, and a thin skin of ice crackles over its surface the moment I wet my fingertips. I bow my head and breathe, willing away the unsteadiness.

  “She wants to think the very best of you.”

  My head jerks up and I look over my shoulder to find Bertel leaning against a tree. All I see of him is the snowy glow of his beard and the whites of his eyes, so deep is the shadow around him. It occurs to me that I won’t know whether he’s holding a weapon unless he moves, a strange thought to have of one who is supposed to be your brother, your people. “And you—what do you think, Bertel?”

  “I am trying to decide.”

  I shift on the balls of my feet, unwilling to turn my back to him. “And Preben?”

  “The same. All of us wonder.”

  “Whether I am stable, you mean. Because you cannot question my loyalty.”