The Impostor Queen (43 page)

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.”

I hold Lahja in my arms and let Oskar haul me along a brutally cold path. He's pulling on me as hard as Sig did, but instead of resisting, I offer him all I have, letting it flow from me and into him. We're surrounded by blackness as his magic pours from him, pushing along in front of us. There's ice beneath my bare feet. “Oskar?”

“It's caving in. I'm using the ice to hold it up so we can get through.”

Together we stagger toward a flickering light, Lahja holding tight, her arms around my neck, her legs clamped around my waist. Behind us, there's the dull roar of rocks falling, and I turn to look behind me, but Oskar yanks me forward. I nearly fall as we start to run.

We dive into the torch-lit chamber just as the tunnel to the docks caves in completely.

Oskar falls to his knees and braces his palm against the stones, his broken arm tucked to his body. Panting, he looks at the wall of crumbled stone behind him. Sweat beads his brow and his teeth are chattering. His eyes meet mine. “We should get up to the surface. I don't know how stable these catacombs are.”

I stroke Lahja's hair, my body made of instinct. She's shivering, her face pressed against my neck. “Kauko let her go,” I murmur.

Oskar shakes his head and slowly gets to his feet. “Elli—”

“I had to do it, Oskar.” Though I'm not entirely sure what I did. “I couldn't let Sig hurt her. Vengeance was more important to him than her life.”

Oskar's granite eyes are shadowed with an emotion I don't understand. “It happened so fast. The two of you became a blinding light, but then you exploded apart.” He inclines his head toward Lahja. “She was thrown free, but Kauko—”

“Is he dead?”

Oskar stares at the caved-in tunnel. “I don't know. When Lahja landed, I grabbed her, and then I grabbed you.” He turns to me and runs a gentle hand down Lahja's back. “The tunnel was collapsing, and it was all I could do to get the two of you out.”

Dread burbles in my stomach. “I didn't mean to hurt Sig.”

“You made a choice,” Oskar says softly, putting his arm around me and guiding us out of the chamber. “And so did I.” He lets me go and plucks a torch from a sconce, then holds it in front of him as he leads us up the tunnel.

I made a choice. And because of that choice, Sig is probably dead. It feels wrong. Not because I didn't make the right decision, but because I shouldn't have had to choose in the first place. If my will had been strong enough, couldn't I have stopped his magic, tugged it right out of his grasp? I swear, if the stars give me more days than this, I will learn how to control this gift better.

But right now I have something else to attend to. I press my face into Lahja's hair, which smells of warm honey and cold rock. She whimpers and hugs me tighter. “You're safe,” I whisper to her. “And I'm going to take care of you.”

We reach the steps leading up to the domed chamber. Oskar walks in front of us. I sense his icy power pulsing from him. We don't know what's waiting for us at the top.

I touch his back. “Thank you,” I whisper. In case I don't have another chance to say it.

He looks over his shoulder at me. “I'm yours to wield.”

We reach the top of the stairs. Oskar stands in front of me. “Raimo,” he says.

“Do you have her?” comes the creaky reply.

Oskar steps aside and guides me into the chamber with the Saadella still clutched against my body.

We're surrounded. The chamber is packed with people. Raimo, leaning on his walking stick, his pale eyes glittering. Usko, half his coppery beard singed away. Veikko, his fingers gray with frostbite. Tuuli, her brown hair loose around her face, still shivering but otherwise unhurt. Aira, her neck and hands burned and blistered. No stout, black-bearded Ismael. No beaky-nosed Mikko. But there are at least twenty constables, clubs at their belts. Countless citizens, still bearing scythes and hammers and tongs, their faces smudged with ash. A few dozen acolytes, their robes torn, some of them bleeding, some of them burned, some of them shuddering with chills. And the councilmen, all staring at me—my nakedness covered only by Sig's cloak and the child huddled against my chest.

Topias, the head councilman, removes his embroidered cap and steps forward, his head bowed. “My Valtia,” he says quietly. He kneels in front of me. “We acknowledge you as our queen.”

My heart thumps hard in my hollow chest as every person in the domed chamber falls to their knees and bows, their foreheads touching marble.

I
walk into her chamber with my offering behind my back. I'm running late because I've spent half the day in meetings with Topias and the other councilmen. Lahja's already dressed in the new scarlet-and-copper gown made just for her, those bouncing ringlets tamed into coiled braids at the back of her head. She's lying on her belly on a soft rug in front of the fire, her stockinged feet kicking in the air as she stares down at a picture book. Her handmaiden, who also happens to be her older sister, Janeka, a girl of about twelve with a quiet demeanor and long black hair, sits nearby, knitting her a new cap. I chose her myself. I wanted Lahja to have a familiar face within these walls. I want her to know she is safe.

Janeka's eyes go round when she sees me standing at the edge of the rug, and she makes a startled squeak. Lahja's head jerks up, and she spins around, looking frightened.

“It's just me,” I say quietly, dropping to my knees. “I brought you something.” I bring out my gift, a doll given to me by Sofia, one I found tucked away in my belongings, the ones Mim packed before I escaped and she was taken into the catacombs. I hold it out to Lahja. She's such an exquisite creature, wide, smooth brow, big blue eyes, rosebud lips. But her serious, wary expression tells me of everything she's been through. There was no Valtia to enfold her when she was brought to the temple. A few of the maids told me she hasn't said a word since she arrived, but Janeka has told me she used to be a chatterbox.

“Do you like it, darling?” I ask as the little girl inches forward, her eyes on the doll, which is painted like I will be soon. My coronation is today, and all my fears sit heavy inside me, enough to bring me to the ground. I stroke my fingers over Lahja's little hand as she touches the doll's face, but I keep my right hand tucked beneath the porcelain figure, afraid my missing fingers will scare her. She rubs her thumb over the soft, silky fabric of the doll's dress, and a tiny, fragile smile pulls at her lips. She nods, and my chest squeezes tight.

“Good,” I whisper. “Later, we'll play with her. It's almost time for me to get ready. I just wanted to see you before I got dressed.”

Before I look like Mim did, in the last minutes of her life.

Lahja's eyes meet mine. She leans forward and kisses my cheek. Slowly she puts her arms around my neck, and I enfold her, silently promising to do right by her. She's not mine. I'm not hers. The true Valtia should be here, not me. But until she is, I'm going to stand between Lahja and any danger that comes.

I kiss her good-bye and stride into the hall. I won't let them carry me in a sedan chair, seeing as I'm perfectly capable of walking. I enter the domed chamber. It's been cleaned and repaired in the last two weeks. A few of our acolytes are placing candles around the edges of the chamber in preparation for the procession. One of them is Kaisa, the girl with blue eyes and a mole on her cheek. Her head is covered in short blond fuzz. It seems ridiculous for the acolytes to be bald unless they really want to be, and I told them so. She waves at me as I make my way toward the Valtia's wing, and I wave back.

If she knows I'm not the true Valtia, she's not saying. No one is. Their need to believe is so strong and desperate that it silences all doubt.

Never doubt,
whispers Sofia. I will never stop missing her.

My stomach tightens as I enter the ceremonial dressing chamber. It's just me today—I won't let Lahja be painted up for this occasion. She's so young, and I'm afraid she'll associate it with what she went through, watching Mim burn before her eyes. Today she'll ride with me, on my paarit, and she'll be comfortable. I'll make sure of it. We need her smile today.

I glance out the window at the Motherlake. Her winter armor is cracking, but it hasn't yet thawed. I never thought I'd fear the spring, but now the thought of it fills me with dread.

Raimo hobbles in from the balcony, wearing a new black robe belted with hemp rope. He's taken charge of the fifty or so acolytes and apprentices who lived through the battle and didn't decide to flee the city, as all the surviving priests did. We believe at least a dozen escaped with their apprentices, and there's been no sign of them. One more worry to add to my list—which makes me all the more grateful for the frail old man in front of me . . . and afraid that his early emergence from his self-imposed hibernation will take a lasting toll. His walking stick clacks against the stone floor, and his stringy beard swishes back and forth as he comes forward.

“The council granted me access to the archives,” I tell him.

“And?”

“The news isn't good. There were three girls born during the alignment, including me. And the other two are dead. Their deaths were recorded in the registers.” One of the names gave me such a pang—it was Ansa, Maarika's beloved niece, who died when her family's homestead was attacked by the Soturi.

Raimo sighs. “And that means our Valtia's birth was probably not recorded. Either her family was living outside the walls or they were homeless beggars, too poor to pay the birth tax.”

“What do we do now?”

His eyebrows twitch. “We keep looking. She can't hide forever.”

“And do you have news?” I ask. “I'd especially appreciate the hopeful, non-dire kind.”

He shakes his head. “I checked with the relay riders. The constables at the border have seen no sign of the Soturi yet. I'm wondering if the barbarians are waiting for the Motherlake to thaw. They could attack simultaneously by land and water if so.”

I let out a shaky breath. It's only a matter of time until the Soturi come for us, and I'm determined to stop them—with the help of my people. “All right.”

He clears his throat. “They finished clearing out the tunnel connecting the dock to the catacombs this morning.”

A sharp pang stabs through me. “And?”

The knobby lump in his throat bobs as he swallows. “Sig and Kauko were nowhere to be found.”

I close my eyes. “The boat?”

“Gone.”

“Sig,” I whisper. I hurt him. Burned him. And then left him at the mercy of the man who'd whipped him and drunk his blood. “Do you think he survived?”

Raimo gives me a pained look, his face becoming a maze of wrinkles. “Kauko, as he's called now, has always been a talented healer.”

I lay my hand over my stomach, feeling sick. I made a choice, and I didn't choose the Fire Suurin. And now . . . “What will he do to Sig?”

“It's hard to say, Elli. But it won't be good.”

“We have to find him.”

He nods. “Oskar said the same.”

Our eyes meet. “You talked to him?” My heart kicks against my breast.

Raimo smiles, but it's tinged with unease. “He's been quite successful. He knows all the camps that harbor wielders throughout the peninsula. It will take some time to earn their trust, but he's working on it.”

“Who's with him?” Who protects his back? Who kindles the fire when he shivers at night?