The Morning Flower

by Amanda Hocking

  He paused, drumming his fingers on the island. “Or so the Vittra records say. It’s hard to ever know how accurate our history books are. We’ve all lived so much in secret, deliberately hiding as many of our tracks as we can.”

  “And Eliana is related to them?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head once. “I’ve tried talking to the Ögonen, but it’s hard to communicate directly with them. They only speak in telekinetic images, which can be very tricky to decipher. I even had Mästare Amalie helping me to translate, and I don’t know that I was ever properly able to convey the idea of Eliana or the questions I had about her.” He sighed. “I suppose that’s a really long way of saying that I don’t know.

  “But this is still good news,” Elof reassured me. “This is a connection we didn’t have before, and everything we learn bringsus one step closer to understanding her and finding her.”

  “Good. Good.” I stared down at the floor. “I’m glad one of us is making progress. I’ve been doing everything I can to find the First City.”

  He pointed to my book. “Is that why you took this?”

  “Yeah. I was hoping this might give me something to go on.”

  “Have you tried talking to Calder about it?” Elof asked gently.

  “I have,” I admitted. “But I think he’s getting annoyed with me.”

  Elof clucked his tongue in understanding. “There are other avenues outside of Calder. I would like it if you could come back when you’re feeling better—and Dagny is around to do the procedure—so we can run another blood test.”

  “Oh, yeah, absolutely, I’d like that too,” I said. Then, more hesitantly, I added, “I did have a … question. Could you compare my blood sample with a baby’s to see if we’re siblings?”

  “You think you may have found a sibling?” Elof asked, surprised.

  “No. I don’t know.” I frowned, thinking of Indu and all his dead children, and Bekk Vallin’s rotund belly. Her baby’s father was Indu Mattison, and I had begun to fear that Indu might be my father too. “There’s this guy who claims he’s Älvolk, but he’s definitely some kind of … romantic, we’ll say. I would feel better if I could rule him out.”

  “Understandable. I can compare samples to see if there’s a familial match. Just send him my way, and I will do the draw.”

  “Thanks. I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be here.”

  25

  Adlrivellir

  “Sweet Freya, mother of all,” Dagny said once she saw me—a rushed prayer under her breath.

  I’d been back at the apartment for about five minutes, but she hadn’t looked up from her book. She was sprawled out on the lumpy couch, with a dog-eared copy of a Lois Duncan book in her hands and Jewel playing through her laptop speakers.

  “What happened?” Dagny sat up and set her book aside. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Elof patched me up.” I collapsed on the couch beside her, and then I ran through the events of the evening.

  When I finished, she asked, “Do you want some lemon tea?”

  “No. I seriously just want a hot bath and to go to bed.”

  “Coming face-to-face with an Ögonen can be unnerving,” she said. “I’ve interacted with them a few times for work, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get comfortable with them just … pushing their thoughts in my head like that.”

  “Yeah, I can’t say that I enjoyed it either.” I shivered involuntarily at the thought of the spiders and the words frozen in my throat.

  “So, do you think the book was worth it?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I leaned over, moving slowly in a vain attempt not to exacerbate the aching pain all down my back, and I winced as I pulled the book out from where I had stowed it in my bag. “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

  Dagny took it from me and flipped through it. “Is this a fairy tale?” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been listening to Hanna too much.”

  “No, it’s not Hanna,” I said, and she gave me a dubious look. “Okay, it’s mostly not because of Hanna.” I tapped the gilded sigil on the cover. “That’s the Älvolk symbol. Finding more about them is a high priority right now.”

  “So that’s why you picked this book? Because of the cover?” Dagny asked.

  “I’ve seen it before,” I said as she handed it back to me. “Have you heard of Jem-Kruk?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I remember reading stories about him when I was a kid. He was something like a Viking Robin Hood. A swashbuckler who saved damsels and slayed dragons.”

  “I don’t remember there being dragons in Robin Hood,” I said wryly.

  “That’s true. Maybe I used the wrong example, but you get the idea,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I read any of the stories, but I don’t recall anything that relates to the Älvolk.”

  “I guess I’ll find out.” I got slowly to my feet. “I’m doing some reading in the tub.”

  While the tub filled up, Dagny insisted on lighting incense on a tray on the back of the toilet. “It sounds silly, I know, but you’ll never have a more relaxing soak.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and lavender smoke. I slid under the water—it was almost too hot, stinging my scrapes, and I knew when I got out my skin would look like a boiled tomato—somehow it was completely perfect and wonderful.

  And then I dove into the tale of Jem-Kruk and his adventures in a far-off land. It was a single novel, but it was really a series of short stories detailing various escapades of Jem-Kruk and his friends.

  It would be fair to say that the sun always felt the warmest after a storm. So it was after the Great Blue Thunder—which had unequivocally been the worst storm that either Jem-Kruk or Jo-Huk had ever witnessed, with thunder shaking all across Adlrivellir. Rain came down for three days and four nights, until the water filled the Valley, but it had finally come to an end.

  On the very first morning that Jem-Kruk awoke to a silent world and a cloudless sky the color of fresh grapefruit, he knew what he had to do. First, he woke his brother, pulling him half asleep from their tree house. Jo-Huk was still quite sleepy, squinting his eyes against the bright light of the three suns Kyr, Nuk, and Veli. He was about to grouse about it, like a cranky bear disturbed too early in spring, and then he finally saw that it wasn’t too early.

  “The storm has passed,” said Jo-Huk, in awe now that he finally beheld the Valley. “But I worry it will come again.”

  “You worry too much, my brother.” Jem-Kruk slapped him merrily on the back.

  “It is as the häxdoktor said,” Jo-Huk said, reminding him of the warning they had heard. “The suns set in the green sky when the good morning becomes the violent night. Before the storm, the sky was green, this morning it is good.”

  “If it is a violent night, then we must greet the day with open arms.” Jem-Kruk spread his arms wide. “But now we must dry out!”

  “Everything in our sight is soaked through. How shall we dry?”

  “There.” Jem-Kruk pointed to the mountain across the flooded Valley, before the caves where the etanadrak slumbered.

  “It’s too far, and the path is much too dangerous!” exclaimed Jo-Huk.

  Jem-Kruk laughed, for he knew that was what Jo-Huk would say. Many called Jo-Huk the wiser of the two, but Jem-Kruk knew that wasn’t true. He’d come to learn that what most called “wisdom” was nothing more than “fear” in fancy dress.

  “The rains have gone, the air is sweet, today is the day we go to meet the suns!” Jem-Kruk threw his head back so that he was yelling at the sky in a gleeful threat.

  Jem-Kruk ran on ahead, knowing that Jo-Huk would give chase, and he did. But Jem-Kruk knew that if Jo-Huk caught him, he would have to go back. Those were the rules they agreed to, but all that ever truly meant was that Jem-Kruk would never let himself be caught.

  As they raced through the woods, of course, they
did not yet know of the trouble that lay ahead of them. Before they reached the mountaintops, they’d first have to pass the fairy lagoon.

  “What?” I whispered incredulously in the silent, steamy bathroom. “Are there gonna be fairies and mermaids too?”

  It was one thing that information about Áibmoráigi was hidden away in old books, but it was an entirely different thing to take advice and directions from a silly children’s book full of make-believe.

  Or maybe I was too tired and my head hurt too much. But either way, I wasn’t in the mood for this anymore, and I headed to bed.

  26

  Routine

  After twenty minutes of fighting with the internet, I finally enlisted Dagny’s help. She was getting ready for work, standing in front of the bathroom mirror straightening her long black hair, and when she’d finished, she pulled it back into a slick high ponytail.

  “Why are you so technologically illiterate?” Dagny asked. She’d been letting me use her laptop because she claimed it was easier to connect to the internet, and she took it from me to hook it up to the landline.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t grow up around a lot of electronics.”

  “That doesn’t stop Hanna from being savvy.” Dagny tapped a few keys, then pushed the computer across the bistro table to me. “She’s great at troubleshooting, and you two grew up together.”

  “Her family has been nothing but awesome to me, but I didn’t come into their house until I was fourteen. And then a lot of my time was spent helping take care of Hanna and her siblings. Finn insisted I get an education, but he didn’t exactly value technology, so it didn’t really make it into my curriculum.”

  “I don’t know why trolls have to be so averse to electronics.” Dagny sighed as she got her stuff together—packing up leftovers for lunch and getting her tumbler of gingered lemon tea. “So many elders and royals lose their damn minds over every shiny bauble or sparkly rock, but their eyes gloss over with disinterest if you hand them a tablet or even a decent digital camera.”

  “You can’t fight the future,” I said under my breath and opened my email to reply to Hanna’s dozens of emails.

  I’d read some of them before, and I’d even replied to the oldest ones, but it had been impossible for me to keep up, especially given the spotty service I had here in Merellä.

  Dagny had been correct that Hanna’s emails were in many ways a list of demands, or, more accurately, complaints and wants. Like a diary entry, but with my name at the heading.

  That was until the most recent message that came in last night, which had a much different tone.

  I haven’t heard from you, but Dagny told me you’re safe. She also told me that you’re researching the same things I am. I didn’t tell you at first because I thought you’d think it was silly, but now I know you’re thinking the same way I am.

  Eliana told me that she came from a land of three suns, and these stories are from there. These two brothers and their friend Senka do lots of things that you’d roll your eyes at. One time they rescue Senka from monstrous etanadrak and another time Jem-Kruk and Senka fight these man-eating mermaids that kidnapped Jo-Huk.

  Okay, they seriously do have all these fun and crazy misadventures, and I could go on forever, but that’s not what this is about.

  The point is that they eventually travel to the “land of blue sky.” It’s different than their world with their pink sky, and it only has one sun. They say the Blárheim has no etanadraks, and that it is a world of ice, covered in white.

  So, to me, this all sounds like the Arctic in Scandinavia. I don’t know how they got here or where they came from, but it sounds like they somehow ended up here.

  And get this—there’s a whole chapter where Jo-Huk argues with his brother about going to Blárheim. Jem-Kruk’s been before but Jo-Huk is worried because there are stories that say Blárheim is so far away that you can’t remember who you were when you got there.

  Does that sound like anyone we know???

  “In five minutes I’m heading to work, and that laptop is coming with me,” Dagny said, interrupting my reading. “You should probably get going as well.”

  “Shit, I gotta get ready,” I said as I checked the clock.

  Last night, after my long soak in the tub, I hadn’t slept so well. I’d had all sorts of vivid, intense nightmares about spiders crawling across a frozen ocean, under a sky of dark melon-pink. So I’d gotten up early and read more of the book before deciding that I ought to check in with Hanna.

  That was how the morning had gotten away from me, and I was scrambling to get dressed and throwing on makeup so I wouldn’t be late for work in the archives. I had a Band-Aid over my eye, but I did my best to mask my injuries as much as I could.

  I had to talk to Calder about what had happened in the catacombs, and I doubted that he would respond well, so I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire by showing up late for work.

  I ran all the way down to the archives and arrived with enough time that I could pause and catch my breath outside the door. Calder had his radio on, playing his angry classical orchestras.

  He was immersed in his work, his head bowed over the documents he translated at the curved desk. I walked slowly toward him, preparing to launch into my explanation, but he silenced me before I had started.

  “Elof told me that he sent you into the catacombs to retrieve something for him.” Calder hadn’t looked up at me yet. I didn’t know how to answer or what to say, and he finally lifted his weary eyes to make sure I’d heard him. “It is an understandable mistake. But you are not to get any book or go anywhere in the archives unless I—and I alone—tell you to.”

  I gulped. “Sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “No, you won’t.” He looked back down at his work. “This time you were injured. Next time it would be worse.”

  “Right. Of course. Sorry.” I grimaced at my rambling.

  “The Styrelse returned another cart of books that need to be put away,” he replied without further acknowledging my apologies.

  “I’ll get right on it.” I scurried around the desk to drop off my bag, then went to work straight away.

  Calder spoke very little the rest of the morning, but that was normal for him, so it was impossible to use that as an accurate gauge of his emotions. I figured it was better that way anyhow, so I kept my head down and did what I needed to do.

  By lunch I was excited for a reprieve. As soon as Calder said I could go, I dashed upstairs and to the Inhemsk Project main office. I went in to ask if Pan was around, and Sylvi replied with a quick, curt, “He’s not here at the moment.”

  I’d been hoping to have lunch with him, but since I wanted to be back promptly from lunch, I headed out to the street market on Wapiti Way. The summer sun felt wonderful on my skin after the chill of the archives.

  At night, Wapiti Way was a normal wide street that ran through the center of the city. During the day it was a colorful bazaar. It had basic farmers’ market fare of fresh fruits, vegetables, and prepared foods, but it also had flea-market goods, like homemade wind chimes, organic diapers, and even some black-market human goods, like copied DVDs and knock-off Rolexes.

  Mostly, though, it was a loud cluster of troll life. Trolls haggled over goods, street performers played instruments and danced with floral scarfs, and a pair of wandering ducks quacked at a bleating goat that was tied up and for sale.

  I pulled my hair up into a loose bun as I perused my lunch options. I picked up a peach to see if it was ripe.

  “I see you’ve moved on to using the cloudberry method with other fruits,” said a familiar voice from behind me, and I whirled around to see Mr. Tall and Handsome himself, smiling at me.

  27

  Fairy Tales

  It had been less than two weeks since I had last seen him, at the Midsommar celebration when he’d given me a cryptic goodbye before absconding with Eliana into the night.

  He looked just as good as I remembered, not that I should b
e surprised, and not that it even mattered. He was tall and slender, so he cut a slight profile, but his dark bedroom eyes made him captivating. That and the ease with which he carried himself, so that each movement felt casually impressive, like watching a prima ballerina doing mundane tasks.

  His wavy hair hung loose above his shoulders, thick and untamed. His cavalier smile faltered, and that’s when I realized how long I had been standing there, holding a peach and staring at him.

  “Who are you?” I asked, wanting to hear him say his name himself.

  “Jem-Kruk.”

  I shook my head, confused, disbelieving. “From the fairy tales?”

  “What?” His face twisted up in confusion.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, then I looked around, scanning the market for anyone else. “Is Eliana here?”

  “No, she’s with her sister.” He paused a moment before adding, “She’s safe.”

  “Can I see her?” I turned to him. “Where is she? What’s wrong with her? Why are you here?”

  “You have a lot of questions, and that is entirely understandable in your position,” Jem-Kruk said. “Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?”

  “Why?” I stepped back from him. “How do I know it’s safe to go with you?”

  He held up his hands, his palms out toward me. Several brassy, jeweled rings adorned his fingers, and a thick scar ran across the beige skin of his right palm.

  “We’ll go someplace out in the open,” Jem said. “I know of a quiet place nearby, and I’ll answer as many questions as I can.”

  “Okay,” I relented.

  I tightly gripped the strap of my hobo bag and I followed him down Wapiti Way, and we headed southeast. When we passed the woolly elk barn, I realized he was leading me on the same path the elk took when they were herded through the city to and from their various pastures.