The True Queen

by Sarah Fine

  For a brief moment, I wonder if Ansa is complicit in this scheme. I am fully aware she is ambivalent at best about Kupari, and that her loyalty to the Krigere holds strong. I believed the only reason she wasn’t attacking us was that she really does trust that Kauko is the true—or at least the greater—evil here, and the one called Jaspar is just as bad. Could she have known they would come for me?

  No. No, I don’t think that makes sense. I saw her make her promise to Oskar, that she would save the Kupari. I have to believe she wouldn’t betray him so easily.

  My captor thunders out of the city and rides past the charred north woods. After interminable, painful minutes, he steers his mount into a maze of boulders near the shore. He dismounts and ties his horse to a sapling, then brings me to the ground, his hands gentle. I look up into his face. It is handsome by any measure. He has bright green eyes and shaggy blond hair, and his body is muscle and tanned skin and nothing more. He smiles at me, and I look away.

  He tries to slide his fingers under my chin to lift it again.

  I slap him hard across the face.

  He laughs and says something in that guttural language. It is ugly, coming from his mouth. But buried in the grunts and growls is Ansa’s name, and he tilts his head when he sees me react to the sound. “Ansa,” he says again. “Valtia.”

  I swallow hard. “Yes, she’s the Valtia. And I’m nobody, so you can just let me go.”

  He shakes his head, clearly not understanding but still chuckling, and shoves me down against a rock. He pulls a wineskin from the back of his horse and offers it to me, but I push it away. He takes a long swig himself and then squats in front of me, looking me over. I fold my arms over my chest. His eyebrow arches.

  In this moment, the absence of magic inside me hurts as much as anything ever has. If I had any power at all, I believe I would freeze this barbarian’s blood in his veins.

  He touches his own chest. “Jaspar.”

  I blink at him. This is the leader of all the Krigere.

  He’s shrewd too. He sees that I recognize his name, and it seems to please him.

  I decide, for the moment, that petulance won’t serve me well. I touch my own chest and say, “Elli.”

  He says, in a singsong voice, “Valtia.” As if it’s a joke.

  I keep my face serene. Or, perhaps, flat. I am having trouble reaching my fear. My only wish is that I do not die before I’ve secured the safety of my people, but after that, he may kill me. I could be with Oskar, then. I could leave this life and have a new one, with him, the one that we dreamed about. Surely the stars will allow us that, given how much we sacrificed.

  Jaspar seems done playing with me for now. Having caught his breath, he rises and pulls me up, then lifts me onto his horse again. This time, apparently, I will be allowed to sit up instead of being slung across the saddle like a game carcass. He loops his arm around my waist, and I stiffen but don’t struggle.

  I watch the path carefully as he rides on. The terrain looks foreign in the aftermath of the quakes, but I recognize that we are riding to the eastern shore, through the dunes. The sun is descending as we round one of the hills of sand, and I catch sight of their camp. I have never seen so many weapons or this much armor. They are in the open here, right by the Motherlake, just far enough from her to avoid the lapping waves. My stomach clutches as I understand how easy it would be for them to rule my people. For a few weeks, I thought I was going to teach the Kupari to fight, but supplying a person with a weapon doesn’t mean she knows how to use it. And as I watch two of these Soturi play fighting, their blades glinting as they reflect the setting sun, I see the difference. These people wield swords like Raimo wields magic—as an extension of their body.

  Magic is the only thing we have to use against them. But they have magic too. Jaspar waves at sentries and rides into the camp. He holds me tightly as the barbarians stop what they’re doing to stare at me. I hold my head high and am grateful for my lack of fear as he pushes deeper into the camp. I think they would be pleased if I screamed, judging by the amused smiles they give me.

  In the middle of the camp, there is a makeshift tent, and beneath it sits a man I had prayed was dead. Kauko rises and claps his hands when he sees Jaspar and me. Then he plucks something from the back of the tent and pulls it into his arms before walking forward.

  “Lahja,” I scream, my breath bursting from me as I realize she is the squirming bundle in his arms. Jaspar’s arm is iron around me. He dismounts and helps me off, but he does not let me go. I struggle against him, my chest filled with desperation to reach my Saadella. Now my fear has returned. If they’ve hurt her . . .

  “You have been very careless, Elli,” Kauko says amiably as he stops several feet away with Lahja pressed to his chest. She is craning her neck, trying to look at me, but he keeps his large hand on her back and his arms wrapped around her tiny body. “Your Saadella was wandering the woods, alone, when we found her. How could you have lost her? You must not care about her very much. Not like a true Valtia would.”

  “Let me see her,” I beg. “I need to touch her.”

  He chuckles. “Perhaps. I must think of what is in her best interest, though, and I’m not sure you deserve her loyalty. You’re not the true queen, after all.”

  “You were going to kill the true queen,” I snap. “After you drained and drank all her blood.”

  His thick lips flap with his dismissal of my accusation. “She is flawed—no balance.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Because you have it. Astia.” He says it with relish and holds up his wrist, showing me the cuff. When I catch sight of the red runes, my stomach turns. The blood of the Suurin, exploited by evil.

  I had thought to stand with my Suurin to face it, but now I am alone.

  “Why have you brought me here?”

  “You have somehow gained the loyalty of the people,” Kauko says.

  I want to laugh. Half of them tried to stone me a day or two ago. My own council tricked and betrayed me. They stole my Saadella and apparently let her fall into the hands of the enemy. Only today, when the land fell quiet, were they willing to embrace me again. “You wish to destroy their hope?” I ask.

  Kauko shakes his head. “Of course not. I love Kupari and have served it my entire long life.”

  I glance at Jaspar, who has let me go but is now watching us as he drinks by the fire. “Do these Soturi know exactly how long that life has been?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It only means I am the one who has long since proven my devotion to the people and the land.”

  Again, my stomach threatens to rebel. “Land that has been healed now. From wounds you inflicted.”

  “I?” His eyes are wide, innocent. “What a lie.”

  “I will not argue. I will simply tell you that we have healed it. Would you like to know how?”

  He gives me an indulgent smile. “Oh, please tell me.”

  I do. And I enjoy the way the blood drains from his face as I tell him his riches have been dumped into the earth. I don’t tell him the Suurin gave their lives to complete the cure. I can’t.

  “You are a fool,” Kauko spits.

  Jaspar sits up and asks Kauko a question, and the older man seems to remember where he is. He bounces Lahja on his hip as he regains his composure and answers the young Soturi leader in his own language before turning to me again. “If these barbarians know the copper is gone, they’ll kill us all,” he says.

  “They’ll find out as soon as they ride to the temple and see it is now under the Motherlake,” I tell him. “Jaspar didn’t seem to pay it heed as he stole me from the square, but when they ride to claim the throne, something tells me it won’t escape his notice.”

  “They’ll kill you, too,” Kauko says. “And her.” He gives Lahja a little shake, and she whines and tries to get down.

  Then she bites him, right on the cheek.

  He cries out and drops her, and she lands at his feet. I kneel and open my arms, and she scrambles into them, her
skinny arms wrapping around my neck. For a moment, I lose myself in the miracle of her. I smell her hair and her skin and feel her warmth against me, drawing me from my numbing grief for a few moments.

  “You’ve turned her into a brat,” Kauko snaps, rubbing at his reddened cheek. The barbarians all around us laugh and point. Jaspar seems to find it particularly funny.

  It doesn’t seem like these Soturi like Kauko very much. Only two do not seem amused, and one of them I recognize as the white-bearded fellow who carried the white cloth in the square—the one Ansa called Bertel, and who gave the signal that brought the arrow slicing into her shoulder. He and a pale-skinned, silver-bearded fellow stand near the rocks and watch me with solemn eyes. I wonder if they are warriors who were once loyal to Thyra. If so, though, why would they lure Ansa to her death? My thoughts spin as I try to untangle possible alliances.

  Too bad only my worst enemy speaks my language.

  “I’m hungry,” Lahja says, reminding me that I’m not quite right about that.

  I give her a smile. “Is that why you bit Kauko, you little scamp?”

  She scowls at him. “No, I bit him because he’s not nice, and he squeezes me too hard.”

  “He deserved it, then,” I whisper in her ear. I offer Kauko a different kind of smile, then, one as condescending as his own. “Elder, from the look of you, the barbarians have fed you well. My Saadella says she is hungry now. Perhaps you could help her to acquire some food.”

  Kauko makes an ugly face. “Noam!” he barks.

  I watch Noam, whom I remember as an obsequious apprentice from my years in the temple, scurry forward. He looks like a praying mantis, all folded arms and long legs. “Elder?”

  “Fetch some dinner for the Saadella and the impostor.”

  Noam gives me a sour look. “She looks well-fed enough.”

  Cold air flickers against my skin as the elder shows off his power. Noam draws his shoulders up to his ears and jogs away without another word. I suppose only the elder is allowed to insult me.

  “Come,” says Kauko. “Sit by the fire with me. We might be enemies, but I know you well, Elli. We share a love of Kupari. We can find common ground.”

  Giving Jaspar an unreadable look, Kauko ushers me and Lahja to a fire near where a group of priests are helping a few of the Soturi reforge and repair some of their blades, using their magic to melt metal. The barbarians look wary but grateful for the help.

  “You’ve made quite an alliance,” I say to him.

  He speaks quietly while gazing about, perhaps checking if anyone might be listening. Jaspar has laid back and covered his eyes with his arm. His lips are parted and he breathes deeply as he naps. Kauko watches him for a few seconds before responding. “I’ve done what I had to, Elli, after you and your rebels expelled me and mine from the temple. It had been my home for an eternity.”

  “Where you tortured and bled countless acolytes, including Sig.”

  He lets out a long breath. “But I saved Sig, after you almost destroyed him. He should be grateful, but instead he wants to destroy me.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “You could have been the father he needed. Instead you betrayed his trust and used him.”

  “He is not sane, that one,” Kauko says.

  “He understood more about the nature of humans than most people I know,” I say hoarsely.

  Kauko stares at the side of my face. “Understood.”

  I swipe a tear from my cheek. “You will never drink from him again, Elder.”

  “And the other—the ice wielder—”

  “They are beyond your reach.”

  Kauko curses. “The Suurin bore magic as powerful as the Valtias! They could have been useful in helping us reclaim our land”—he glances at Jaspar and seems relieved when the young man lets out a snore—“from this scourge.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to do? I thought you were using them to put yourself back in power.”

  He shakes his head. “I never meant to fall in with them! They captured me and Sig as we fled after you nearly killed us both. And if you want to lay blame for the sorry state of our city and our people, look no further than your own reflection, my dear.”

  “I am no more to blame than Ansa is.” I hope she is faring well. Without Sig, without me, she has no one to understand her. She’ll be frightened and angry, based on what I know of her. She might lash out.

  “Ansa is Krigere, through and through, Elli. And she is not sane. She needs to be put down. If she is, the magic will be safe inside Lahja.”

  I tuck Lahja against me. “Lahja is too young to bear that burden.”

  “We have had young Valtias before. They just need . . . care.”

  “I wonder if that care comes at the point of a knife.”

  Kauko flaps his lips again. “Do not scare the child unnecessarily.”

  Lahja is pinned to my side, and I know she’s listening, so I don’t say what I am thinking: I fear that if I am still alive when Ansa dies, Lahja wouldn’t receive the balance that I hold inside myself. She would need both to be whole. Regardless of Kauko’s “care,” such massive, unbalanced magic might tear her tiny body apart.

  I also do not say this aloud because Kauko does not need yet another enticement to end my life.

  He lifts a stone with a wave of his finger and uses his magic to toss it into the fire, throwing up orange sparks. “Remember our lessons together?”

  “I used to think you were the wisest man who had ever lived. Also, the kindest.” I sigh. “But that was when I was a child. A silly little girl.”

  “You’re still a little girl, Elli. You’ve been brave and headstrong, but to me, you are still a child.” His voice is kind now, absent the cold rage of before. “I can see how much all these burdens have weighed on you. I can only imagine how frightened you’ve been.”

  I stroke Lahja’s hair with my scarred hand and stare into the fire.

  “I’m sorry for blaming this on you,” he continues. “I know that I bear responsibility for what’s happened. I and the rebel who stole the knowledge I needed to understand what was going on.”

  “Raimo knew you were evil, even hundreds of years ago.”

  “Ah, if you insist. But who served the temple for all those years, and who hid away like a bandit, biding his time? Who is in power now within our city?”

  “Stop, Kauko.”

  He bows his head. “I loved you, you know.”

  The only people who ever truly loved me are dead. Mim, who is a constant ache inside me. And Oskar, who is a fresh, deep wound. “You cannot cajole me to your side, even with honey-dipped words.”

  His large hands rest on his knees, and the edge of the cuff is visible at the end of his sleeve. “I don’t have to, Elli. You’re already on my side. You want to save Kupari from the barbarian horde, and so do I.”

  I look out over the camp. The sun has gone now, and I can see fires illuminating faces that laugh and smile and talk as they dine on dried meat and broth that makes my stomach complain with hunger. These are Ansa’s people, decimated by Sofia’s storm, the monsters who chased us from the north and have raided our shores for decades. But Ansa told me they were good. Is she telling the truth? Should I be working to drive these Soturi from Kupari, or should I be helping Ansa welcome them, and try to forge some kind of peace? Is such a thing possible?

  I look toward Jaspar again, but he has vanished.

  “Why did he risk his own safety to kidnap me?” I ask.

  Kauko laughs. “He didn’t see it as much of a risk, which should tell you what he thinks of our people.”

  “But why would he go to the effort? What did you tell him?”

  Kauko shrugs. “Perhaps I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he says as Noam arrives with a small parcel of food for us. “Tonight you should rest. You’ve been through so much.”

  I unwrap the food and give Lahja most of it, and then I keep her close while she eats. Kauko is the most calculating soul I’ve ever met. He’s got
some plan that I figure into. He doesn’t care whom he uses or hurts, as long as he ends up with power in the end.

  I rub my eyes. I would love to rest. I would love to sink into black sleep and never, ever wake up. But I am not my only concern. I have miles to walk before I reach the end of my journey, and people to look after, not least of which is the little girl who is nodding off with her head on my shoulder. I sit with my back against a log, feeling the wind off the Motherlake, and settle in to figure out a plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ansa

  Ow! Stop,” I shout, kicking the short-haired young woman away from me. She yelps and staggers back, the bloody cloth in her hand waving. With quick, impatient fingers, I grope for the arrowhead that’s still embedded in my shoulder. In the hours since Bertel tried to lure me to my death, I had almost forgotten about it. First I was in too much pain to notice, and then I was too relieved by the absence of chaos inside me to notice.

  Now I notice. Now I cannot not notice.

  My shoulder has swollen to a hard red knot, the edges of my skin puffed up around the wound. The fingers of my left hand twitch with phantom sensation. It feels like that iron arrowhead was dipped in hellfire before it was sent my way. I have to get it out of me or I’m going to go crazy.

  These trilling Kupari are trying to help. With the assistance of the townsfolk, the wielders, whose temple is under the Torden, are working on me under some makeshift tent, with plenty of townsfolk watching. Through hand gestures and one particularly grisly drawing, the old man, whose name is Raimo, conveyed that I need to keep my magic in check, lest I frighten the fragile citizens.

  Ugh. I hate every single one of them, and every single living person on this earth right now.

  Raimo comes over with his hands outstretched. He has also shown me, via a drawing once more—this one of me with big eyes and a big mouth and tiny stick limbs—that they have to remove the arrowhead before he can heal me with magic. At least he made himself look comical in the drawing too, with a beard to his feet and a huge hooked nose. He’s trilling at me now, motioning at my shoulder as he holds a pair of blacksmith’s pliers.