The True Queen

by Sarah Fine

  “Like the two of you were the culprits,” says Raimo. And then he curses.

  Oskar nods. “Ansa ran out of the trees a moment later. She saw us. I know she did.”

  “She definitely recognized me,” says Sig. “She probably thinks I betrayed her.”

  “Why didn’t you try to explain?” I say. “Kauko was her known enemy, based on what you’ve told us.”

  “We might have,” says Sig. “I think I could have done it. But she . . .”

  “She sort of . . .” Oskar tries to continue. His fingers flare and his eyes go round.

  “Exploded,” says Sig. “We saw her begin to glow. We started to run. And thank the stars we did, because if we hadn’t . . .”

  “Well, you saw us,” Oskar says lamely. “If Aira and the others hadn’t found us, we would still be lying in those woods, food for the foxes.”

  “And what of Kauko?” Raimo’s voice could slice the toughest meat.

  “No idea,” says Oskar. “He might have been killed in her . . . whatever she did. The quake hit soon after. It was chaos.”

  “Do we know what happened to Ansa?” I ask. “Did she actually make it out of that clearing? Did she survive the explosion she created?”

  “I think we’ll find out soon enough,” Oskar says, looking hollow. “If she comes after us, we have our answer.”

  “Wrong,” says Raimo. “If Ansa had died, Lahja would have received her magic. She was herself before we left, just a normal little girl. Ansa is alive.”

  Sig grunts and sits up. “Then I’m going to enjoy a cup of ale while I still can.” He shakily crawls through the flap of the lean-to.

  “I’d better help him,” says Freya, sounding exasperated. “Otherwise he’ll probably pick a fight and lose control of his magic again.”

  Oskar and Raimo murmur their thanks while I fight a wave of dizziness that passes over me. A moment later the two of them are lowering me to the mat Oskar had been occupying. “I’m fine,” I say, though I sound awfully breathless.

  Raimo is pale and shaky too, but he looks happy. “You completely balanced that magic. It would have killed them otherwise—I still feel off.”

  “So do I,” said Oskar. “I think this is our new everyday.” He says it lightly, then frowns as he sees me and Raimo exchange glances. “What have I not been told?”

  “I think Elli can fill you in,” Raimo says. “I need some ale and bread or I’m going to expire.”

  Oskar lets him go, though now he looks worried. He lies on his side next to me and I turn so we are face-to-face. He smiles. “Stars, every time I look at you, I feel like I’ve run a mile. My heart races.”

  I put my hand on his bare chest, right over his heart, and feel the tickle of his ice magic. Outside, I can hear laughter and a few snatches of song. The sounds are livelier with Sig and Raimo out there—it tells people the most powerful of our protectors are alive and mostly well. I glance down at Oskar’s still, white hand, but he tips my chin up. “Don’t worry about that, all right?”

  I touch that hand with my own scarred fingers. “How can I not worry about you?”

  He kisses my forehead, his half beard rough against my skin. “Sometimes I think I am two men,” he says. “Two different people. One is the Ice Suurin. And you shouldn’t worry about him.” He presses his forehead to mine and speaks into the warmth between us. “But the other is just me, just Oskar, and he is very grateful that you care.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. Do you ever wish we could just be Oskar and Elli, not the Suurin and the Astia?”

  He chuckles. “All the time, my love. Every single day.”

  I scoot closer to him, and he puts his arm around me, holding me against his body, which is cool but not frigid. “Tell me what it would be like.”

  “If we were just Oskar and Elli, I would ask you to be my wife.”

  I pull back a little, my eyes wide, and he gives me a sheepish look and clears his throat before adding, “I would ask very nicely.”

  I laugh. “And what would we do after I said yes?”

  Now we’re both giggling. “I know you had a very sheltered upbringing, but I’d like to believe you already know the answer to that.”

  My cheeks blaze with that knowledge, and on impulse I kiss the soft skin of his throat. “I’ll keep you in suspense.”

  “Well. If you don’t, we can figure it out together.” He brushes his lips over mine. “I could build us a warm cottage by the lake. In the winter it would rattle with the wind, but we’d have a blazing fire.”

  “I would cook the rabbits and deer you brought home. I’d learn to fish and make bread.”

  “Mother and Freya would visit us in the summer, and our children would play on the dunes. Their laughter and shrieks would reach us all the way up the hill.”

  My throat tightens a bit. Oskar’s family used to visit Maarika’s brother at his farm near the shore—until his family was killed by Soturi, and his daughter, Ansa, with whom Oskar used to play on the dunes, was kidnapped. She lost so much. And now, if Sig is correct, she’s lost the person she loved. I cannot imagine the pain she’s in right now.

  But it makes me hold Oskar tighter. “It sounds like a dream,” I murmur.

  “We could make it real,” Oskar says fiercely, his hand rising to cup the nape of my neck. “We will get through all of this, and then we will make it real.”

  “I want that. More than anything. But—”

  “No,” he whispers. “Not now. Not tonight.”

  “All right.” I sniffle and swipe a tear from my cheek. “We’ll make it real.”

  I spread my fingers across his chest, and he sighs and lets his magic trickle between us through the places our skin meets. It spirals up my arms and encircles my heart. I was raised believing that I could not love or be loved by one person, because my duty was to the people. I still believe in that duty, with all my being. But I love Oskar, and I know he loves me, and in this moment it seems wretchedly unfair that the life that would make both of us happy is so far out of our reach.

  “Sleep next to me tonight, like we used to,” he says against my ear.

  I nod and snuggle in. There is nothing in my life that has ever left me more content. The world outside the lean-to still exists, but it fades as the minutes pass. The ground shudders but doesn’t erupt, and though Oskar groans a little, as if it hurts him, he settles as I pull excess magic from his bones. As we drift in that peaceful place, dreaming of a shared future that both of us will fight for, I push away memories of Raimo’s desolate look and vague predictions. He admitted he wasn’t sure what would happen. The future is a blank parchment, and perhaps Oskar and I can write our own destiny on its creamy surface. Maybe we can earn that.

  I am in the midst of that happy dream, watching Oskar stride from the forest, smiling in the sunshine and lifting a brace of rabbits as he returns home for the night, when I am awakened by a scream. Oskar and I bolt upright at the same time, him emanating a deadly cold.

  “Elli,” someone calls.

  My brow furrows as I scramble up. “Kaisa?” She shouldn’t be here. I left her at the temple to make sure . . .

  “My Valtia, you must come!” Kaisa is out of breath. I push my way out of the lean-to with Oskar at my back. The apprentice slides clumsily off a horse. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Just tell me what’s happened,” I say. My heart is beating so fast.

  Kaisa drops to her knees. “We couldn’t stop them. We tried, but—” She holds out her shaking hands.

  “Where is Lahja?” It comes out of me as a wail, raw and instinctual.

  “They took her, my Valtia,” she says, crying now. “They stormed the temple and carried her away. The blacksmith and the others who wanted to see Ivette stoned. They’ve taken the Saadella away.” She raises her head. “And they said they won’t give her back until you meet their demands.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ansa

  Carina unlocks my shackles to allow me to relieve
myself. She seems wary as ever around me, but she lets me lean against her as she escorts me back to my resting place. “I’m not going to let you shackle me again,” I tell her.

  She shrugs. “I’m not going to try. Jaspar said to let you be.”

  Begrudging gratitude stirs inside me. “Wise of him.”

  She holds my arm as I sink onto the cot. “He’s a good chieftain, Ansa. I know you’ve had your differences, but you should know that all of us look to him for our orders. We’re his wolves, and will be until we die.”

  I rest my elbows on my knees. “Do your andeners feel the same? He and his father forced many of ours to pair with warriors who already had mates.”

  “They only wanted to ensure the survival of our tribe.”

  “By crushing the spirits and wills of some of its members? By making it clear that their lives aren’t as valuable as a warrior’s?”

  She grunts. “You sound like Thyra. She said such things to me, when I was guarding her in the tower.”

  The sound of her name is like a knife sliding between my ribs. “Thank you for the compliment. If I can show even a sliver of her wisdom, then I am happy.” I bow my head. She’s gone. I will never hear her voice again. I press my hands over my face.

  “I’ll leave you alone.” Carina’s footsteps are silent, but I know she’s gone, and I’m glad.

  When I am certain that I’m not about to start sobbing in a camp full of hardened warriors, I let my hands fall from my face. I am surrounded by the bustle of morning. We’re not leaving here today—Jaspar said we will have another day of rest. But warrior-andener pairs are preparing to hunt and scavenge, and many are sharpening or repairing weapons or armor. We have no new supplies, so everyone must preserve what they have. The hours will be devoted to survival—and preparation. But no one expects me to do a thing. No one talks to me. They do toss me mistrustful glances, though. Probably they remember the night in the fight circle, when Nisse nearly defeated Thyra with scheming—and I killed nine of them in my magic-fueled rage.

  I look down at my hands. For the last several days I’ve felt so shaky, as if the fire and ice inside me were about to explode into a storm I had no hope of leashing. But today I feel only the barest tingle of it. I am mostly aware of the ache and itch of my injuries. Perhaps it is our distance from Kupari . . . ?

  Through the trees, I see a flash of fire, the kind I know is not natural. It’s like a small sun, one that flies amid the branches—until it is caught. I stand up, squinting, and see several black-robed men milling about just beyond the area where a group of andeners is straightening shafts and sharpening stones to create new arrows. Slowly, making sure my steps are steady, I make my way toward the robed men. There are perhaps a dozen of them, and I know they must be the exiled priests who survived the impostor queen’s attack on the temple. Their robes are tattered and patched, and all of them have short hair and beards. Their ages vary—as I near, I see that a few of them are closer to my age, while some are closer to Preben’s and Bertel’s.

  Kauko has his back to me, but as I reach the edge of their clearing, he turns as if he feels my presence. “Valtia,” he says, bowing his head low.

  The word has a dramatic effect on these priests—they all stop and turn to me, then fall to their knees. “Valtia,” they all say.

  “Tell them to rise,” Kauko suggests. “Say nousevat.”

  I clear my throat and repeat the foreign word. It feels strange on my tongue, and yet oddly familiar.

  Kauko smiles. “My Krigere is much better than theirs, but they are learning.”

  Some of them mimic his smile as they rise to their feet, and Kauko holds his arms out as if presenting them to me. “We are but a sad echo of what we were, but we are at your service, Valtia. These men have devoted their lives to serving this magic.”

  “No women?” I ask, frowning.

  Kauko’s cheeks redden. “Well. We have found that men are more suited to priesthood. But remember that the forever-magic runs through your veins. Always a woman’s veins.”

  “What do you mean, more suited?” This makes no sense to me at all. “Not a single woman has ever had the inclination to be a priest?”

  Kauko waves his hands. “Surely you would like to see what they can do? These will be the wielders at your side as we face the rebels. We will be the front line, and the warriors will come behind us.”

  My lip curls. “I suppose.”

  Some of the priests’ smiles falter as they read my skeptical look, and for their sakes I nod. If I am to lead them, I’d like them to trust me, even if I don’t trust them.

  Kauko has them show me their prowess. Some of them can make objects move, and others can conjure ice or fire from the air, while others pull it from the fire at the center of the clearing or the water from a nearby stream. They can make it take different forms too, such as arrows of ice or ropes of flame. As I watch them, I feel the urge to try, but the magic inside me doesn’t answer the call, for some reason. I wince as I look down at my hands and feel the pain in the crook of my arm. When I poke at it with my fingers, I feel a bandage beneath the sleeve of my tunic, and a wound beneath the softness. My brow furrows as I think back. “Kauko, didn’t you heal me?”

  He stops in the middle of controlling a massive ball of flame that is making the others, mostly the ones who wield fire, sweat rivers. It disappears instantly. “What? Yes. I healed all your wounds.”

  “What about this one?” I lift my sleeve, and then start to peel the bandage away.

  Kauko rushes toward me, clucking his tongue. “Oh, that—”

  “You bled me.” I stare at the wound on my pale skin. My fist clenches.

  “Valtia, please understand.”

  “Oh, I understand.” I take a step back, wondering if I can find a weapon and stab him before the priests realize what I’m doing.

  “No!” Kauko’s smooth brow is crinkled with his distress. “No, this was different. The magic was so out of control when you were found that it was killing you. Without balance, it is so dangerous.”

  I point to the cuff of Astia on his wrist. “Which is why I need that!”

  He shakes his head. “It wasn’t near enough! I had to drain some of it away before you weren’t strong enough to contain it!”

  “Did you drink it?”

  He blinks at me, as if it is a rude question.

  “Did you drink it?” I shout.

  “Blood is life, and magic, and power. Your blood is precious—the foundation of everything we serve. Do you really expect me to pour such a treasure into the dirt when it can be used to strengthen those who would die to protect your rule?” His voice is so quiet, the words spoken in his odd, trilling accent. But I feel the rebuke.

  And it does not please me.

  I lean forward. “I won’t kill you for it this time,” I murmur, speaking in his ear. “But my blood is not your nourishment.”

  He kneels before me and grasps my hands, his eyes on the rotting leaves at my feet. “My Valtia. It will be as you say.”

  His moist skin makes me shudder, and I pull my fingers away. “It had better be.”

  The others are watching me with wide, terrified eyes. I’m trying to decide what to do about that when I hear a quiet laugh behind me. “Oh, you’ve got them quaking already,” says Jaspar.

  I round on him. “Kauko has been making a snack of my blood.”

  Jaspar’s smile dies. “What?”

  Kauko jumps to his feet, surprisingly agile. “And I explained to our Valtia that it was strictly for her benefit. I would not do anything to weaken her now.”

  Jaspar’s shoulders are tense as he looks back and forth between us. “He told me that if you die, your magic will go to the Saadella, who is controlled by the impostor. It would not be wise for him to do anything but try to keep you alive, Ansa. That, at least, you can rely on, even if nothing else.”

  At least he understands how far we are from trust. “I can’t even feel my magic inside me now. How much did
he take?”

  We look at Kauko, who is back to holding his hands up as his priests shift warily behind him. “Only a pint or so. Little more. Enough to stabilize the magic. Remember I am a physician! Have I not brought you back from the brink of death many times already?”

  Yes, but only because it benefited him. It’s already clear to me that this Saadella—this princess who will inherit my magic when I die—must be kept away from him. If he controls her, he has every reason to kill me.

  I tilt my head. “I want the cuff of Astia back.”

  Kauko nods. “Yes. When we reenter Kupari, you must have it. But for now . . .” He smiles at it, then pulls his sleeve over it. “While you recover, and while I am the primary defender of this camp, I will ask that you allow me to keep it safe for you.”

  Jaspar touches my arm. “It makes sense, Ansa. You’re panting after walking across the camp, and if the wielders who killed Thyra come back, we have to have protection from them.”

  I think back to how I was forced to shield our warriors for all those hours under siege. Even the thought makes me want to collapse on the ground. “Fine. But only until we reach Kupari.”

  Jaspar’s hand slides to my back. “There. Now will you come and let me give you some stew? Your strength won’t return without good nourishment.”

  I step away from his touch. Something about it makes me want to cry again. “Let’s go.”

  I wave to the priests, and they all bow as I walk away. Jaspar seems to think it’s extremely funny. “I’ve always thought you were special, Ansa, but this?”

  “The Kupari are so bizarre,” I say. “Are they all like that?”

  “I’ve never been there. You and Kauko and his priests are the only Kupari I’ve met.”

  If I had a knife, I would draw it. “So now I am Kupari.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  I stop dead. “Really, Jaspar?”

  “Why does that bother you?”