The Impostor Queen

  “Your future!” Oskar roars. His voice rings with disgust—he’s killed over and over, and he looks sick with the knowledge. “How many futures have you stolen to ensure your own?”

  Aleksi drags me backward. “I have lived to serve the magic of the Kupari,” he snaps. “Everything I’ve done has been for that reason.” As we near the entrance to the catacombs, I get desperate, and my fingernails claw at his skin. He lets out a surprised grunt and grabs my right hand, grinding the stumps of my lost fingers between his own and making me shriek with pain. He looks down at the cuff clamped over his thick wrist, and then down at me. The swell beneath his chin trembles as one of his hands disappears into his baggy sleeve. “Why didn’t we think of this?” His eyes are shining, and panic fills my hollow chest. “Why didn’t we guess?”

  Oskar and Sig both step forward at the same time, but the sharp prick of a blade at my neck stops them dead. “Come any closer, and her blood will paint these hallowed grounds.”

  I stare at Oskar. Freeze his blood. You can do it. But worry clouds his features. He’s probably scared he won’t be fast enough, that Aleksi will feel the ice magic and kill me. And for all I know, Aleksi is powerful enough to counteract it, especially since he’s wearing the cuff.

  “There are so many things you don’t know,” I tell the elder, hoping to distract him long enough for the Suurin to strike. “The elders have been half-blind all these years. And how many has it been, Tahvo?” As soon as I say that old, evil name, the elder edges the blade up under my throat. The stinging line of pain feels like heat and cold at the same time.

  “I know exactly who told you that name,” he says, his voice ragged. “And it explains so much. But it’s you who are half-blind.”

  Oskar and Sig strike at the same time, their teeth gritted as they send dual blasts of magic at us. Aleksi’s broad hand clamps itself over my neck, and I feel the pull of his magic as he tries to use me to retaliate. Every muscle in my body turns to stone—the horror of being used to hurt Oskar and Sig is more than I can bear. As fire and ice burst around me, I fold in on myself, becoming as small as I can, shielding that bottomless well inside me that wielders use to amplify their own magic. I won’t give it to Aleksi. He’ll have to kill me first.

  As if he hears my thoughts, the blade of the knife lifts, and I glance up to see it arcing down toward me. I throw myself back to avoid the slice of it just as Aleksi staggers under the heat of Sig’s fire. Scrambling out of the elder’s reach, I make it halfway between the wielders when Oskar’s fingers rake the air. Aleksi lets out a choked cough. He pounds at his chest and drops his knife.

  Oskar runs toward me, Sig right behind him. My ice wielder reaches down to take my hand, but then he’s lifted off his feet and hurled against the stone wall opposite the Saadella’s wing. The force of it is so intense that I feel the impact shudder through the floor. I scream and launch myself toward Oskar, but Aleksi’s hand catches my ankle, and I tumble forward, losing my air as I hit the marble. Oskar falls at the same time, sliding to the side, his eyes closed and his arms limp, his big body shivering and shaking. My eyes meet Sig’s. That strike didn’t come from Aleksi.

  “Help me, sire!” Aleksi calls out as a dark-robed figure moves in my periphery. “Elli—she’s an—”

  “There’s no time!” says a familiar voice. “Hold them back!”

  Sig wheels around as Elder Kauko jogs out of the wing, a struggling little girl in his arms. Her coppery hair is in tangled ringlets around her face, and her round cheeks are streaked with tears.

  The Saadella. Lahja. My entire being vibrates with her need and terror.

  “That’s him!” comes Sig’s broken shout as fire shoots from Aleksi’s hands, arcing through the air toward the Fire Suurin. I jump between the flames and Sig, letting them caress my bare back.

  Sig staggers under the heat that manages to reach him, pointing frantically at Kauko. “That’s him, Elli! He’s the one!” he yells as the elder disappears into the catacombs with the Saadella. But then Sig’s gaze streaks from that dark passage, his eyes glowing. His voice becomes a guttural growl. “Don’t you dare.”

  Aleksi screams, high and tortured. The knife he’d been about to plunge into my back falls from his blistering fingers. His skin sizzles and weeps as his robes catch fire, as the copper beneath his feet melts and bubbles. He crumples, and even then, Sig doesn’t let up. He seems determined to reduce Aleksi to ash.

  I run for Oskar, laying my palms across his frigid cheek and feeling an avalanche inside my hollow chest. I pull the magic with all my might, wrenching it from his veins and bones and mind, and Oskar moans. But no sooner have his eyelids started to flutter than Sig is yanking me away. “We have to go after him,” he says, his voice flat with fury. “Oskar will live, and I need your help.”

  To kill Kauko. Who has the Saadella. And who downed the Ice Suurin with one skillful strike. All these years, Kauko’s been the physician to the Valtias. He bled Sofia, and now I know why. “You’re right—he’s the one,” I murmur. “He’s been the one all along.” All that friendly patience, all that mercy, hiding so much evil.

  Aleksi called him “sire,” as if he’s the father of all of them.

  I force myself to turn away from Oskar and let Sig pull me to my feet. He rips his cloak from his shoulders and wraps it around me. “I can’t do this without you,” he says, his eyes glowing yet still full of pleading. “He’s getting away.”

  The damp cloak ripples around my body as I turn toward the catacombs, where Kauko has descended into the earth, taking the future of our magic with him. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 25

  “A few of the priests and apprentices are still fighting,” Sig says as he pulls me past Aleksi’s burned body, his palm sweaty in mine. “A whole group of them escaped into the town as well, more interested in fleeing than fighting. Seeing them run sapped the will of many of the remaining fighters. And the townspeople are on our side. It’s a mess, but we’re winning.”

  “Is it still winning, with so many wielders dead?” I whisper.

  Sig clenches his jaw and keeps moving.

  I dig in my heels as copper glints from Aleksi’s ruined form. “Wait.” I squat by the elder’s corpse and pull the cuff from his red-and-black wrist, wrinkling my nose at the smell of roasted flesh. The cuff of Astia glints as I cradle it in my hands. The magic bleeds from it, dripping from my fingers in invisible drops. “I think we’re going to need this.”

  I clamp the cuff over Sig’s pale, lean forearm. His eyes flash with flames. “Oh,” he breathes, his chest heaving, his fingers flexing. The wave of heat rolls from him, warping the air. He looks down at our joined hands, and then at the cuff. “I feel like I can do anything.”

  “You can’t, though.” Oskar walks unsteadily toward us, his left arm folded against his chest, his teeth chattering. “If that elder sends fire at you, Elli won’t be able to keep all of it off you. He’s too powerful.”

  “But you’re hurt,” I say.

  “Just my arm. I think it’s broken.”

  “Are you strong enough?”

  “I can keep the heat off Sig.” His eyes meet Sig’s. “You’ll have to do the rest.”

  Including protecting Oskar from cold and ice. Sig gives him a curt nod. Together, we reach the stone steps that lead into darkness. Sig creates a ball of fire to float above our heads and light our path. He goes first, then me, then Oskar, whose steps are not nearly as steady as I want them to be. “Oskar—”

  “I’m fine,” he whispers. “Stop worrying.”

  Raimo’s words slide through my head. You’ll regret this love. I grasp the edges of my borrowed cloak and stare at Sig’s back.

  Sig tenses as we reach the base of the steps, his head swiveling back and forth as the maze stretches before us. His ball of fire disappears, plunging us into darkness. And then he takes my hand. “To the left,” he murmurs—at the same time Oskar says the same thing.

  They feel the magic. Which means
Kauko will feel us coming. Sig’s palm is hot on mine as he pulls me forward, but I stretch my deformed right hand back, my fingertips skimming the fur of Oskar’s cloak.

  His cool hand gently closes over mine. I tense, expecting the icy flow of his magic inside me, but nothing comes. He’s holding it back, keeping it for when he needs it. But the feel of his palm against mine is a tiny island of safety. I close my eyes as goose bumps ride along my skin.

  When I open them, I realize we’re not in total darkness. There’s a guttering light at the end of this long, dripping tunnel. And I know exactly where it leads.

  “He might be luring us,” warns Oskar.

  “Or trying to escape,” I say. “This is the path that leads to the temple dock. There’s a boat.”

  “He has no idea how powerful we are.” Sig’s grip on my hand is so tight that it hurts.

  A tiny, high-pitched sob echoes down the tunnel, followed by a metallic clatter. “Lahja,” I whisper, as if she could hear my voice, as if I could reach her. “We have to get her out safe.”

  “We will,” murmurs Oskar, squeezing my fingers.

  Sig tugs us down the tunnel, his hatred throwing off heat so extreme that the air is filling with vapor. “Elder,” he calls out in a jittery, excited voice. “We’d like a word.”

  He tows me around the corner, then pulls up short, cursing. The chamber is lit with several torches. Elder Eljas lies on the table that occupies one side of the chamber, his flat-nosed face turned toward us. It’s blistered and blackened from the fire yesterday. His wrists are red and swollen and crusted from his efforts to free himself from the shackles that hold him prisoner. His eyes harbor his silent scream, but already they’re going dim. His body is trembling and pale, and it’s clear he doesn’t have enough strength to free himself with magic. One of his sleeves is pushed up to his shoulder. Blood flows steadily from several deep gashes along the inside of his forearm, which is positioned over a hole cut in the table’s surface. The thick splatter of droplets echoes as it collects in a copper pitcher sitting beneath the hole.

  Next to the stool is an overturned cup, a trickle of blood on its rim. Elder Kauko has probably just gorged himself, stealing Eljas’s magic to grow his own power. And at the back of the chamber is the entrance to the wide stone corridor that leads to the dock. A ball of fire floating within the passage reveals the silhouette of the elder, dragging a little girl toward the rusted metal door at the end of the tunnel. On the other side lies the pier—and the boat.

  “Stop!” shouts Sig, but Kauko spins, wickedly fast, and sends a wall of ice at us. I feel Sig’s magic reverberate through me as he sends an inferno out to meet it. The tunnel fills with steam that becomes ice crystals that fall to the stones at our feet.

  Kauko grabs Lahja by the hair and pulls her in front of him as she shrieks. “Strike at me again and she’ll die.”

  I squeeze Sig’s hand and he stops. We’re about twenty feet from the elder. The docks are a few dozen yards behind him. “Let her go, Elder Kauko. I know there’s a spark of kindness and mercy in you.” I can’t believe he’s the one. I wish it weren’t true.

  A sad, sympathetic smile curves his thick lips. “I was always fond of you, Elli. You understood how badly we needed the magic.”

  “For the people, though. Not for the elders and priests.”

  “It’s the same thing. We are the magic that defines the Kupari. They’re nothing without us. But I’m sorry you were caught up in it. We all thought you were the Valtia. It was a terrible mistake.”

  I nod at the gasping, struggling child clamped to Kauko’s fleshy middle. “You don’t want to hurt her.”

  “And if you don’t either, you’ll let us go,” he replies. “Haven’t you all killed enough today?” He drags Lahja back a few steps. “I’m trying to protect her!” His gaze is dark and desperate on mine, begging me to understand.

  Sig lurches forward, his entire body vibrating with readiness. “Do you remember me, Elder?”

  Kauko’s eyebrow arches. “Should I?”

  “I’ve got a back full of lash marks that says yes,” Sig hisses. Heat rolls off him like nothing I’ve ever felt, making the dripping water along the cavern walls boil and evaporate.

  Lahja starts to cry as her skin turns pink.

  “Stop it!” I cry, tugging at Sig’s hand. He’s crushing my fingers.

  Oskar counteracts the heat, cooling the air. “Sig,” he says softly, a warning. “The girl . . .”

  Kauko’s eyes narrow as he regards Sig. “You’re the one who escaped. And I know what you are. I tasted it.” His fingers curl over Lahja’s chest and his eyes drift to me, full of accusation. “Elli, do you have any idea how dangerous and unbalanced he is? He’ll kill us all. He was never meant to walk free. What have you done?”

  There are so many things I could say to that, but none of them seem important as I stare at the tiny figure huddled against the elder’s round belly. Her red dress is damp at the hem, and her slippers are sodden. Her rosebud lips are trembling with terror. “I’ve come to take the Saadella,” I say. “She belongs with me.”

  “She belongs with the Valtia,” Kauko snarls, his lips peeling back to reveal the blood on his teeth.

  “And you plan to use the girl to lure her in,” Oskar says, his voice a blade.

  Kauko looks Oskar up and down. “Ice wielder.” He blinks as the temperature in the tunnel drops suddenly. There’s a glimmer of surprise in his gaze, but I swear, I see hunger as well.

  “Kauko,” I bark, drawing his attention back to me. “We’ll let you live if you release her.”

  Blazing heat courses up my arm, but Sig stays quiet.

  Kauko backs up a few more steps. Lahja whimpers. “I don’t know how you convinced all these wielders to follow you, but you’re an impostor,” he says. “You only want her to make a false claim on the throne. You shouldn’t even be involved in this!”

  Sig takes another sudden step forward. It feels like my arm is caught in the jaws of a bear, tugging relentlessly at the power I harbor in my hollow chest. “She’s far from an impostor, Tahvo,” he says.

  Kauko’s eyes widen, but then he controls his surprise. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.” His smile becomes a grimace of anger. “Raimo took something that belongs to the priesthood. I’d like it back.”

  Power pulses from Sig, and it smells of hatred and a deep, bitter need for vengeance. His pale body glows in the darkness of the tunnel, like he’s lit from within. “Oh, I’ll give it back,” he says in that familiar, shaky voice.

  “Sig,” I say, trying to rip my hand from his as I feel his magic drawing from the well inside me.

  “Sig,” shouts Oskar as we both feel the heat. But as he reaches for Sig, the fire wielder twists and sends a blast of devastating flame right at Oskar, who’s thrown against the tunnel wall, stunned and smoking.

  Sig drags me out of Oskar’s reach, and it’s as if he’s scraping his fingers along the inside of my ribs, scooping up the power and preparing to hurl it at the elder. Only a few minutes ago, I was able to prevent Aleksi from using me as his weapon, but Sig’s hatred and determination are pure. His magic is sharp and cutting, hungry as a wolf—and has no balance to temper it. I pull back with all my might, but I can’t stop him.

  Kauko’s mouth drops open as Sig stalks forward with me jerking at his hand, trying to wrench myself away. Lahja shrieks when she sees the fire in Sig’s eyes. She falls to her knees, finally free, as Kauko grits his bloody teeth and raises his hands to defend himself.

  It won’t matter. Sig is a volcano. He’s a raging fire. It’s all he is.

  And Lahja is helpless as he descends. Her heart pounds in my ears. Her fear crystallizes like a diamond in the center of my chest.

  I will not play a part in her death.

  I have a will. And I’m not Sig’s weapon to wield.

  I stop resisting his pull. With a desperate lunge, I round on him. My left hand remains clamped in his right, but I wrap the thr
ee fingers of my right hand over the cuff of Astia on his left arm. We become a circle of flesh and bone.

  Right as the magic erupts.

  Sig arches as his own fiery power loops through me—and back into him. My mind fills with roaring light. The world goes silent and golden, and the pain singes along every inch of me. The magic moves like lightning, circling through the Fire Suurin and back into me, over and over, heightening, winding tight, until finally it explodes. I’m thrown backward as Sig is torn from my grasp. My back slams into cold rock.

  I’m blind. The only thing I can see is white.

  “Lahja!” I shriek, clawing at the air as pebbles pelt my belly and face. Is she hurt? Did we kill her?

  A muscular arm loops around my waist. I clutch at fur-covered shoulders and feel the vibrations of a broad chest pressed to mine—he’s shouting. “Ever,” comes his distant voice.

  “Lahja!” I scream as I’m lifted from the ground. I can’t tell which way is up, which way is out. All I know is that the world is collapsing. I blink frantically.

  “Ever!” It’s Oskar. I’m in his arms, and the sky is raining rock.

  “No, we have to get her!” My vision is coming back, blurry and indistinct. His broad form wavers in front of me, like we’re underwater. I kick and struggle. “Lahja!”

  Oskar’s face appears right in front of mine. His gray eyes are fierce. His lips move, exaggerating each movement. “I. Have. Her.” His hand clutches mine in an unforgiving grasp. My ears fill with the sound of crumbling, cracking rocks.

  He lets me go for the briefest moment—and then presses a squirming form against my body. My arms coil around her as she cries. Tears stream from my eyes as I lean my cheek against her curls, which are coated with gritty stone dust. “Oh, my darling,” I hear myself say. “I have you. I have you.”

  Oskar grips my hand again. “I need you,” he says from between clenched teeth. “Please, Elli, work with me. I can’t do it without your help.”