The Morning Flower

by Amanda Hocking

  “The Älvolk are powerful, and not many of the other tribes make for suitable mates,” Indu explained. “I didn’t know my mother, but it was likely she was Omte or had some Omte blood in her. I mean, she must have, since you do!”

  “So I’m … I’m half-álfar.” I leaned back in my chair, digesting what he’d said. “That’s the part that Elof couldn’t figure out. What was my mom like?”

  “She was a beautiful, amazing woman. Truly something special, and so loving. She adored you, even before you were born. She’s the one who picked out your name.” His smile was nearly wistful when he said, “Violetta.”

  “Then why did you…” I furrowed my brow, trying to understand. “If she loved me, and you did, then why was I abandoned in Iskyla?”

  “Iskyla? That’s where you ended up?” He scowled and shook his head. “I never checked. I thought she wouldn’t go that far with a newborn.”

  “My mother ran off with me? Is that what you’re saying?” I asked.

  “Your mother? No,” he insisted emphatically. “No, she would never have given you up. It was that overzealous guard Orra. She kidnapped you when you were only days old.”

  “You’re talking about Orra Fågel? She kidnapped me?”

  Indu looked at me in confusion, then he waved his hand. “This will be easier if I go back to the beginning. I’m an Älvolk, the same as my father, Mattis Elrikson, and his father, Elrik Ulfson, before him.

  “As an Älvolk, I was raised to guard and protect Áibmoráigi and all the secrets within,” he summarized. “We were once solitary, but over the last century we have begun to interact with the modern tribes.”

  “The modern tribes?” I snorted, thinking of their reluctance to use technology or advance past our ancient traditions.

  “That is what we call you. The arrangement has been mostly beneficial, but there have been some setbacks.” He frowned, his eyes downcast as he spoke.

  I wondered if he was thinking of some of the horror stories that Pan had read about back when we’d been in Fulaträsk. The ones with blodseider magick and sacrifice.

  I wondered if they were just stories, or if they were true.

  “One of the setbacks happened around twenty years ago,” Indu said. “The Omte had a young King, and, like many unfortunate young men, he’d become obsessed with childish tales of treasure. He’d originally pursued legends of his namesake, the Nordic god Thor, but when those proved to be untrue, he’d latched onto the Älvolk and the First City.

  “Then he came here, trampling over the countryside, causing trouble everywhere he went.” The distaste was dripping from his words. “This ‘King,’ if you could even call him that, he was an elk in a flower garden. Such a destructive force.

  “Of course, he couldn’t travel alone, royalty never does,” Indu said with a derisive laugh. “Orra Fågel was a guard, or relative of some kind? Cousin, perhaps? I can’t say anymore. But they grew enraged that your mother and I wouldn’t help them find Áibmoráigi or cross the Lost Bridge. As revenge against us, Orra kidnapped you and hid you away.”

  “That doesn’t explain how you met my mother,” I pointed out.

  “No, I suppose that was the story of how I met your kidnapper,” he admitted, and this time his smirk seemed like it was on purpose. “Your mother was an álfar, a hidden tribe from across the Lost Bridge. She never allowed me to cross, the way we can’t allow just anyone to visit Áibmoráigi.”

  “But she came over?” I asked.

  “Yes, the álfar are able to cross on occasion,” Indu explained. “We never know ahead of time, and I doubt we know every time. But sometimes they will visit us. All of our mothers are from other tribes, and some Älvolk, their mothers are álfar, and they like to keep in touch with them.”

  “All mothers are from other tribes?” I asked. “Are there no female Älvolk?”

  “All Älvolk are male, but the thrimavolk are our daughters,” he said.

  I sneered. “So there’s males and daughters? That’s it?”

  He narrowed his eyes slightly, and when he answered, the words were slow and deliberate. “There may be other designations outside of us, but in Áibmoráigi, the sons are Älvolk and the daughters are thrimavolk.”

  “Right.” I gave up on pressing, because I doubted I’d get anything from him. But I couldn’t really be surprised that an ancient cult that maybe dabbled in blodseider magick also had really regressive ideas about gender.

  “What are the thrimavolk?” Pan asked, getting the conversation back on track.

  So far, he’d mostly been sitting there quietly, sipping tea, munching on food, and lending me moral support with his presence. He wasn’t saying much, but I didn’t need him to. Knowing that he was here with me and I didn’t have to face Indu on my own made me feel a lot more capable and strong.

  “They’re a form of guard,” he said, still speaking in that careful way, and then he looked at me. “My daughter, your half-sister Noomi, she is a thrimavolk. She can explain it to you better when we go to Áibmoráigi and you meet her.”

  My heart double-jumped, and I heard Pan choking on his tea beside me. “We’re going to Áibmoráigi?”

  “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’re my daughter. I want to show you who you are.”

  39

  Bitter Tea

  “Is my mother there?” I asked, focusing on other things that mattered instead of letting myself get carried away with the excitement of going to Áibmoráigi.

  Indu took a deep breath before answering, “No, unfortunately, she passed away recently. She’d fallen ill, and she didn’t recover.”

  My arms had been folded across my chest, but they fell to my lap as the strength suddenly left them.

  “She’s dead?” The words felt like lead, catching in my throat, and it took effort to keep my voice even. “My mom is dead?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” Indu said, and for his part, he did sound genuinely saddened. “We hadn’t been close for some time. After you were kidnapped, she was so distraught she went back with the álfar and rarely visited.”

  “I’m sorry, Ulla,” Pan said, and under the table he put his hand on my arm, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

  “She rarely visited?” I asked. “Why didn’t she try to find me? Why didn’t you? If this woman kidnapped me for revenge.”

  “We did try to find you,” Indu insisted. “Both of us. But we were young. I had hardly ventured outside of Áibmoráigi then, and we didn’t know the modern tribes or where to go for help. I did track down Orra within a few weeks. You weren’t with her, and she refused to tell me what she’d done with you. Fearing the worst, I … took care of her myself.”

  “Took care of her?” I asked, unable to completely hide the tremor in my voice. “You killed her?

  “We thought she’d murdered you, so I did what was right,” he reasoned, letting anger harden his words. “Yes, I killed her.”

  I winced, and my chest ached over a loss that I didn’t know how to explain.

  This was the first confirmation I’d gotten that the woman who had left me as a child was Orra Fågel. The woman I’d been imagining from the stories that Mr. Tulin told me since I was a baby. The woman who, when Mr. Tulin offered to let her stay, thanked him with tears in her eyes.

  “Your mother had a funeral for you,” Indu went on. “You were our daughter, and she stole you from us. I did what was right, for you and for your mother.”

  I nodded and swallowed down the attachment I had for a woman I had never known, who abandoned me after a winter storm. I had no real memories of her, only an old man’s stories and my imagination filling in the gaps.

  “But if you thought I was dead, how did you find me now?” I asked, pressing on. “How did you know I was your daughter?”

  “Your friend Bekk Vallin contacted me. She told me about you, and I realized that you were the daughter that Orra had taken from me all those years ago.”

  I narrowed my eyes. W
hen we’d been in Fulaträsk, Bekk had told me that she had no idea how to contact Indu. But that had apparently been a lie.

  “How did you know I was here, though? At Öhaus? Bekk doesn’t know where I am.”

  “Isarna’s an island, and it’s not that big,” he replied vaguely.

  “I keep hearing that,” I said with a sigh “So, Bekk. Is she your girlfriend?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “But you are the father of her baby?” I asked more directly.

  He nodded. “I am, yes.”

  “Bekk’s baby, Noomi, how many siblings do I have?” I asked.

  Bekk had shown me evidence that he’d fathered at least four children, but only one of them had survived infancy, and none of them were still alive. I had to wonder if Noomi and I were the only survivors, or if there were others.

  “Well, your mother had two before I met her, so there’s Eliana and Illaria—” he was saying, and I immediately gasped and sat up straighter.

  “Whoa. What?” I leaned forward, resting my palms flat on the table. “What’d you say?”

  “Eliana and Illaria are your older sisters,” Indu said, and when Pan cursed under his breath, he gave him a puzzled look. “I assumed you knew that, since you knew them.”

  I kept shaking my head, so much so that I got a little dizzy by the time I stopped. “No, I didn’t. No, they didn’t … I never … No one told me. I didn’t know.”

  My mind raced through every interaction I’d had with Eliana, everything about her. She was a tiny, cheerful, color-changing, green-haired girl. She was nothing like me.

  Neither was Indu, and he was certain he was my father.

  Was that what Eliana was doing in Merellä? Was she looking for me? How would she have known that I was there?

  But … she couldn’t be my sister. I would’ve known, wouldn’t I? I always thought that I would know if I ever met any members of my real family, I would just … know.

  I hadn’t known with her. I didn’t know with Indu. Maybe I didn’t know anything.

  And yet, somewhere deep down, when he said it … it felt true. Or maybe I just wanted it to be true?

  “Eliana and Illaria are my sisters,” I said, trying it on for size, and just hearing it aloud, from my own mouth, made me feel light-headed. “Shit. Okay.” I cleared my throat and tried to regroup. “So … how many siblings do I have?”

  “You have two sisters from your mother, and four from me,” he said.

  “All girls?” I asked.

  He smiled, or, more accurately, his smirk deepened. “All daughters.”

  “So, you have five kids altogether?” Pan asked him.

  “I tried for more, but things are … complicated.” He leaned back in his seat. “We can go over all that when you come to Áibmoráigi. When would you like to come to the city?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

  “Tomorrow?” Indu pressed. “Would that work?”

  I glanced over to Pan, who shrugged encouragingly, so I said, “Sure.”

  “We could meet outside Öhaus around ten A.M.?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said, sounding less and less confident the more he asked me questions.

  “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, but I should actually get back,” Indu said, and it felt rather abrupt, but I don’t know if it was. Everything he’d told me had left me in a bit of a daze. “Is there anything else you want to know before I go?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, the names. Of my sisters. Who are they?”

  “Here.” He got up and got a pen from the waitress, and he came back and scrawled them down on a lacy paper napkin. “You’re processing a lot, so I’ll write them down for you.” He folded the napkin in half, then handed it to me.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow and getting to know you better.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if I meant it. He started for the door, but I called after him before he left. “Wait. You know Eliana. Where is she? Is she okay?”

  “She’s safe with her sister. Eliana is sick, but they’re taking care of her,” he assured me.

  “Do you think I’d be able to see her while I’m here?” I asked.

  “Possibly. I’ll talk to Illaria and see what we can do,” he said, and then he was out the door.

  “How are you doing?” Pan asked me after Indu was gone.

  “I don’t know? I really don’t know.” I laughed tiredly, and then I opened the napkin, reading the names he’d given me.

  Noomi Indudottir (her mother was Skojare)

  Bryn Aven (her mother Runa Aven is Skojare)

  Minoux Moen (with Asta Moen, also Skojare)

  Juno Indudottir (due in August with Bekk)

  “Oh, jakla. I know her.”

  “What?” Pan leaned over to see. “Which one?”

  “Bryn, she’s my friend.” I rubbed my temple. “Is it okay if I head back to the hotel?”

  “Yeah, absolutely. Of course it is.”

  “Can you walk with me? I don’t feel like going by myself right now.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll always be happy to walk you home.”

  40

  Appetites

  The Grand Bottenviken Hotel had a small bar/dining room set off on the main floor, and that’s where I holed up with Pan and Dagny. After Pan had walked me back to the hotel, he decided to stay with me, and he texted Dagny to let her know what was up. Fifteen minutes later, she showed up at the bar demanding that I explain everything to her.

  “Shouldn’t you be helping Elof?” I asked when she sat down across from me.

  A bench ran along the back wall, allegedly made with reclaimed wood from old Skojare Viking ships, and I sat in the corner, my back pressed against the wall and my legs stretched out on the seat. The place was deserted except for the three of a us and a lone employee serving as the bartender and waiter.

  Pan was at the other end of the room, ordering at the bar, but he was still close enough that I could overhear him and the waiter. They were talking about the fish mounted on the wall behind the bar, something long and olive-green with a fierce expression, and the waiter was saying it was the largest gädda ever pulled from the bay.

  Dagny sat on the other side of the table from me, and behind her were the large picture windows with views of the bay. The sun was high in the sky, making the dark water shimmer, and the blue stained-glass trim around the windows appeared especially vibrant.

  “Elof can handle it,” she said, dismissing my question immediately, and kept her intense gaze locked on me. “You just met your dad, and Pan told me you’d had some other major revelations.”

  “Yeah, you can say that,” I said dryly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “My mom’s dead, and Eliana’s my sister.” I decided to go for it right away, but I wasn’t sure if I made the right choice, given how shell-shocked she looked.

  Pan returned with a pitcher of sweet ale and a plate with six beet-salad sliders, and by the time I finished telling Dagny everything, we’d finished half the pitcher and the two of them had eaten half the sliders.

  “Do you believe him?” Dagny asked directly.

  “Yes. Sort of.” I scowled, because that didn’t feel right. “I don’t know.” I turned to her. “Would you?”

  “As of right now, I can’t rule out anything he’s claiming, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I believe it,” she said, choosing an answer that was aggressively neutral.

  “Do you think he’s really my dad?” I asked her.

  Naturally, she countered with, “Do you think he is?”

  “I don’t know. I mean … yes.” I considered it, and finally decided, “I don’t think he’s lying to me. He’s taking us to Áibmoráigi tomorrow. Why would he do that if I wasn’t his daughter?”

  “I’m going with you tomorrow,” Dagny said.

  “I didn’t exactly confir
m who Indu was extending his invitation to, but it seemed like Pan was included,” I replied carefully.

  “Good.” She folded her hands flat on the table. “But I wasn’t asking. I’m telling you that I’m going with. Elof will certainly insist on going also, and good luck to you on fighting him on that.”

  I nodded, because there was no point in arguing with her. “Right. So all four of us will head out there with my dear old dad, and then maybe when I’m there he’ll have a chance to explain this all to me in a way that makes sense. Because right now I feel like … I’m going crazy. Am I crazy?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Pan said quickly, his voice calm and warm. “You’re reeling from a lot of info. You found out that you’re half-álfar, and I don’t even entirely know what means.”

  “The álfar are from Alfheim, and that is a place hidden across the Lost Bridge,” I said, reminding him of what little we knew. “Whether it’s a place nearby or some other realm or maybe even below the crust of the earth, we don’t know.”

  “Yet,” Pan added.

  “There,” Dagny said. “That’s something to ask Indu tomorrow. What is an álfar? Do you want me to write it down? I’ve already made a list of questions I plan to ask him as an ambassador.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I’ll remember that one.” Along with all the other horrible questions I’d have to ask him. Like, why are so many of his children dead?

  I moved on the bench so my feet were back on the floor and I was facing Dagny and Pan more fully. “But I’ve already got a lot of info that I don’t know what to do with. Should I talk to Bryn?”

  “Who’s Bryn?” Pan asked.

  “I knew her for a while. She got me out of Iskyla, and she helped find me a place to stay and introduced me to what amounts to my foster family. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t met her. And now Indu says she’s my sister.”

  I groaned and rubbed my temple. “But she already has a dad. I met her parents at this memorial event five years ago. Shouldn’t I tell her that her dad might not be her dad? Or would I be stirring up trouble, especially if turns out that Indu is full of shit?”