by Stina Leicht
Of course she knows you hate chamomile, Suvi thought. She’s the Silmaillia. The contents of the cup trembled with a second jolt of cold realization.
“Is it all right?” Ilta asked.
Unable to decide whether or not Ilta had meant the tea, Suvi swallowed. Finally, she trusted herself to speak. “It’s lovely.” And it honestly was. “I’d—I’d like the recipe.”
“It’s not all that complex. I’d be happy to give you some for your personal larder before you leave. I made it especially for you.”
“Thank you,” Suvi said.
The conversation died out again and unease took its place.
“Anyone would be frightened by the news I gave you,” Ilta said.
“Anyone isn’t queen,” Suvi said.
“You can’t force yourself to not have emotions about emotional things,” Ilta said, not meeting her gaze. “This is even more true of queens. I’m here to listen in ways that no one else can. Consider it part of my role as Silmaillia. You can trust me. If you don’t, I can’t help you, and if I can’t help you, I can’t help the kingdom.”
Suvi felt the corners of her mouth turn up. “I have to trust you.”
“In fact, the use of a souja could be considered … inadvisable,” Ilta said. “If you look at it from another angle, your inability to shield can be seen as an advantage. If we’re careful of one another’s boundaries, it could make our work together easier. I—I’ve been doing a lot of work with maintaining boundaries lately.” She blushed.
“When did you become so wise?”
“I’ve been studying Gran’s journals, among other things.” Ilta seemed a little more at ease, but she still seemed deeply uneasy.
“All right,” Suvi said. “I’ll work on a contingency plan for if I’m unable to resume my duties as queen after the journey south.”
“I’ve … already talked to Nels about—”
Suvi’s jaw tightened. “You told Nels before you told me?”
Ilta stared at her own hands, distressed. “It couldn’t be helped. You see … he was there when the visions came, and I apparently said enough during the trance that he deduced what I was seeing without my telling him. And … and …” She sighed, seemingly helpless.
“Ah. I see.” This is what comes from your Silmaillia also being your bond-sister. Well, soon-to-be bond-sister. Suvi didn’t understand why she was so relieved. “And this is what you were so worried about?”
“I thought you’d be furious with me.” Ilta’s shoulders perceptibly dropped, and she now sat with her body carrying less tension.
“You’re living together. And my brother is perceptive,” Suvi said. “How could you prevent it? Mind you, this doesn’t mean you should discuss all your visions with him first. There are a number of things he doesn’t need to know. At least, not before I do.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Well. I’m glad that’s settled,” Suvi said, took another sip, and then swallowed. “Now, back to more important matters. How did he react?”
“He was very upset and confused. He doesn’t want you to make the journey south.”
“Too bad,” Suvi said. “Dylan needs us. All three of us. We’ve a rift to close.”
Ilta nodded.
“Have you been able to discover anything new?” Suvi asked. “Why is it that Father didn’t notice there was a breach? For that matter, why didn’t Saara know?”
Ilta said, “That’s what worries me about Acrasia. Well, one of the things.”
“One of them?”
Ilta said, “According to Blackthorne’s reports, there are distinctions between the southern malorum and those we’ve encountered here.” She glanced to the stack of books on a nearby table. “If both groups are one and the same species—”
“If? You heard Dylan,” Suvi said.
“Then all the knowledge we have, the knowledge gleaned centuries ago about the malorum, is wrong. And—and if that is the case, then we have no hope of preparing for what is ahead—not without Blackthorne.”
Suvi blinked. “His training may be more useful than our collected ancient knowledge. But don’t we already know all that he knows?”
Ilta said, “The honest truth is, he’s been fighting those things a lot longer than we have.”
“Then it’s long past time Blackthorne shared that training with our troops.”
“Nels isn’t going to like that.”
“Nels will get over it, I’m thinking,” Suvi said. “We’ll do what we must to survive. I believe he’s familiar with the concept.” She waited while Ilta poured a fresh cup of tea and then took another sip. “Where have the malorum we’ve been seeing come from? Do you know?”
“Do you mean to ask if something was wrong with last year’s seal?” Ilta asked. “This isn’t your fault, Nels’s, or mine. We performed the ritual correctly. It remains sealed,” Ilta said. “I’ve no idea where they are coming from.”
“They could be entering Eledore from the beaches,” Suvi said. “Now, that’s a terrible thought.”
Ilta nodded. “All the more reason for us to get those swords to Clan Kask, and to arm ourselves. How many of our soldiers have water steel? Do you know?”
“Exactly fifty-three, including the one that Nels carries,” Suvi said. “A majority of the weapons weren’t in common use during the war. Blades employed by the private armies were considered the property of the nobles and stayed within their control. As for my father’s army, most of them consisted of criminals and peasants. What little water steel they possessed was either passed down from one generation of soldiers to the next or from master to apprentice. The casualty rates among the Royal Army meant that very few of those blades were recovered.”
“The Eledoreans took them from the dead?”
Suvi nodded. “Clearly, even an Acrasian can sense the value of such a blade.”
Blinking, Ilta turned her attention to her tea.
“I’m sorry,” Suvi said. “Like my brother, I suppose I’m having trouble with my biases.”
“It’s all right,” Ilta said. “They’re certainly earned.”
“But you feel Blackthorne can be trusted?”
“Absolutely,” Ilta said.
“Then I’ll resolve myself to trusting your judgement in the matter,” Suvi said. “Have you been able to find the location of the Acrasian seal yet?”
“No,” Ilta said. “But I’m sure that the histories of Kassarina Ilmari recorded the locations somewhere. The only problem is translation. What we need was written in four-hundred-year-old Eledorean, and in cypher. Nels has been working on it, but stubborn as he is, even he has his limits.”
Suvi sighed. “Very well. I may be of no use when it comes to translations, but I’m very good at puzzles. I’m happy to give it another attempt when you’re ready.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we get enough translated to make it worth your trying,” Ilta said.
Suvi nodded. They both focused on their tea. Sitting in silence, for the first time, Suvi felt comfortable with Ilta.
“I wish there were any other way than going south,” Ilta said.
Suvi asked, “Will you be all right?”
“I’ve not seen anything to indicate I won’t,” Ilta said. “I wish you could stay here. I wish you didn’t have to risk going at all.”
“Wearing a crown means more than nice dresses and parties,” Suvi said. Or, in my case, going about begging for assistance for your people from rich relatives and keeping an eye out for poison and potential plots. “I know certain family members forgot that in the past … but I haven’t.”
“You do have a choice, you know.”
“Actually, I don’t—not if I don’t wish to be like my uncle or my father or the countless other Ilmaris that allowed the kingdom to slide into ruin,” Suvi said. “But I appreciate your making it seem as though I do.” She kept her expression blank while fresh terror made ice of her blood. If you can’t save yourself, Nels will get you free. He�
��d do anything to find you. You know that.
Even die. She blinked again. “What about Nels?”
“What about him?” Ilta asked.
Suvi set the cup on a small nearby table. Several books were stacked there in an untidy pile—all of them medicinals, from what she could tell. That was when she caught the title of the fifth in the stack. The Transmutation of Species. The title was written in Acrasian. It clearly belonged to James Slate.
Ilta can read Acrasian? Or is she having Nels translate it for her? “Have you seen anything about whether he’ll return from Acrasia?”
“Not yet,” Ilta said, looking uncomfortable. “I have to assume it means he will.”
“Good,” Suvi said. “And the children Freyr Ahlgren has been training, have any of them demonstrated a talent for command magic? Are any of them possible matches for Silmaillia training?”
“Not yet,” Ilta said. “But many of them are too young for him to be able to determine their talent. I’ve told him to report to me the moment he knows anything.”
Suvi nodded.
“Don’t worry,” Ilta said. “More children are being born. Others are being found, too. Who knows how many of our people are still living in the wilds?”
And how many of them will survive the winter and the malorum alone in the wilderness? Suvi said, “None of us will live forever.” Particularly if we’re travelling into Acrasia. “We must find successors soon.”
Ilta swallowed and stared into her cup. Not knowing what else to do, Suvi did the same. The herbal mixture was sweet, spicy, even soothing in that it reminded her of the spice cake her mother liked so much. And Nels.
She served this tea to put you at ease, Suvi thought. That was smart. She listened to the small, comforting sounds of the fire and the clock while she gathered her thoughts. It occurred to her that she could hear the ticking of more than one clock. That was when she noticed that in addition to the clock on the mantel, there was a small clock on the table. That’s odd. There were no clockmakers living in the Hold. Not yet. They were lucky to now have a blacksmith.
“Have you given more thought to binding?” Ilta asked.
“What? Oh,” Suvi said. “No.”
“But—”
“No,” Suvi said. “I saw what it did to my mother. If there’s one part of my life over which I want some measure of control, it’s whom I sleep with.”
“But— Having a partner may make your burdens easier to bear.”
“Or infinitely more difficult,” Suvi said. “I’m not like you. I can’t let my heart lead me in such matters. As if it weren’t difficult enough to find a suitable partner in life, I have added challenges. If Eledore were a viable country, I might have some power in such negotiations. However, I have none at the moment and none for the foreseeable future. In the best scenario, Eledore becomes a protectorate of a more powerful country. Worst case, I won’t be safe from the Acrasians. Choosing wrong doesn’t means misery. It means assassination.”
“I hadn’t actually considered—”
“Eledore is my responsibility. Surely that counts as enough mothering for any woman?” Suvi asked. “I’ve decided to leave the matter of producing Eledore’s heirs to you and Nels.”
“Oh.” Again, Ilta blushed.
Suvi tried to smile. It felt good to talk to someone as she had to Piritta, even for a moment. Her best friend and former souja had been lost when Jalokivi fell. Her twin brother, Nels, and Dylan were her remaining confidants, but it wasn’t the same. They were men. Piritta had been a sister. And soon, Ilta will be too. “That wasn’t exactly subtle, was it?”
Ilta returned the smile. “No. Not exactly.”
“Don’t worry. You have my approval,” Suvi said. “He’s wanted this since he was sixteen.”
“Maybe not in the permanent sense.”
“Maybe not,” Suvi said. “But you make him happy in ways that no one else has. You make him more cautious about his own welfare. And that makes me very happy indeed.” It feels good to have the succession sorted out at least. In case.
“I wish I could be more reassuring,” Ilta said.
“I know. It’s all right. Really.” Suvi paused. “Dylan said that we must get to Ghost Crescent no later than Mansikkakuu. How soon do you think we can be ready to leave?”
“Even if the snows melt before the vernal equinox, I wouldn’t risk it while the daylight hours are shortened.”
“The malorum.” Suvi had taken to using the Acrasian name for them, largely because “Old Ones” sounded so vague and archaic. “Old Ones” were childhood myths. “Malorum” were a real problem to which there were real answers and real solutions—at least, so she hoped.
“Maitokuu, I think,” Ilta said. “I guess that means you’ll have some time to plan.”
How am I to make all the arrangements without Nels catching on? Suvi thought. “I’m considering giving Councilor Slate all the information I have on the situation. He’s right. Him not knowing everything I do about the malorum and the venture south means he’s less effective as a spymaster.”
Ilta tilted her head and closed her eyes. “I think that would be wise.”
“Did you have a vision?”
Ilta smiled and blinked. “No. I just think that you’ll need some support other than myself when it comes to Nels. You’ll want him to take over in your place, I assume?”
“I will.”
“He’s not going to like that idea. Neither will the rest of the Hold.”
“Of course not. That doesn’t change the fact that Nels is next in the line of succession.”
“He’ll claim he’s not eligible.”
“He’s no diplomat. But every ruler has their strengths and weaknesses. And unlike anyone else, including myself, he studied statecraft at an early age with the intent of running the country. He’s the most qualified other than Councilor Slate, and I won’t hand my kingdom over to an Acrasian—no matter how well intentioned and suited,” Suvi said.
“Nels is … stubborn.”
“Of course, he is. He’s my twin brother,” Suvi said. “However, I’m the queen. I decide. He doesn’t.”
“And you think he’ll go along with that?”
Suvi let one corner of her mouth curl. “Who else can I leave in charge and absolutely trust to make every effort toward my return? He’ll want out of that role as fast as he can manage it. Not only that, he’ll do a good job. And he won’t hand it off to anyone but me, no matter how much he’ll want to.”
“But he is going with us.”
“And he’s returning. I may not.”
Ilta stared down at the cup in her hands and shook her head. “Are you going to tell him? Won’t he need some time to adjust to the idea?”
Pouring herself yet another cup of tea, Suvi said, “And have him fight me every inch of the way? I won’t have time for that, prepare for the journey, and run things. Besides, he’s not like me. He does his best thinking on his feet. Don’t worry. I’ll leave enough instructions that he won’t be lost.”
“He’ll be angry.”
“He’ll be angry no matter what, if it comes down to that,” Suvi said. “I just won’t be around to witness it. Lucky you. You’ll be in the thick of it.” She sipped her tea. “He’ll forgive me eventually. He always does.” At least, I hope so.
“I wish there were another way.”
Believe me, I do too, Suvi thought. She paused, for a moment unsure whether or not to continue. The conversation was depressing enough. “I must send a message to Cousin Edvard,” Suvi said. “It’s time to discuss the matter of the malorum in the open—at least between rulers. Maybe that will spur some cooperation.”
NELS
ONE
THE HOLD
GRANDMOTHER MOUNTAIN
NEW ELEDORE
TENTH OF PITKÄKUU, 1784
“Where’s my dress uniform?” Nels asked, stumbling in the dark. His head was pounding, and his stomach seemed to be staging a revolt in answer to the whisk
ey assault from the night before. The water he’d forced down to counter it seemed to have put out the flames but didn’t seem to be doing much for the gastric pitchforks. “Shit! I hung it up right here last night! To keep it from getting wrinkled. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you! I’m going to be late! I knew it!”
Viktor’s languid voice came to him out of the darkness from across the room. “And yet you did anyway. Some people never learn.”
“You son of a—”
“I was joking! Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. You know I do. Relax.”
In Nels’s rush, he stubbed his toes on a chair and cursed. Hopping, he clutched his injured foot and wished he’d never met Viktor Reini. Nels cursed the darkness, the cluttered floor, and the fact that he hadn’t stayed in his own apartments.
He’d given Ilta his rooms for the night since hers were connected to the infirmary, and she’d needed privacy in order to prepare. Therefore, he had opted to spend the evening with Viktor and the remnants of his company in Viktor’s apartments. As a result, it’d been a late night of debauchery—half of which was a distant memory. “Where’s the lantern? I need light!”
“Take it easy,” Viktor said in languid tones from his place on the sofa. “The ceremony is hours away.”
“My watch says otherwise. It’s half past one!” Nels said. “Why did you let me sleep so late?!”
“I didn’t,” Viktor said. “And don’t worry about your uniform. Mustonen took it. He wanted to clean it and make some repairs. It was looking a bit worse for the wear.”
“I’ll never make it in time!”
A squeak accompanied a small flood of light as Viktor flipped open a blinder on a dark lamp. Nels instantly regretted the request, grabbing his head and groaning.
Viktor said, “Take a deep breath. Slow down. You’re going to be fine.”