The Impostor Queen (30 page)

“Stubborn,” I say, and she laughs. I smooth my palms against my cheeks as I rise to my feet. It's not easy, letting go, but the alternative would be much worse. “Did you get what you needed for his back?”

Maarika nods. “Now we just need Freya to show up with our kindling.”

And that's my chance. “I can go find her.”

“If you wish. She's probably picked up more than she can carry.”

She takes off her cloak and offers it to me, but I push it away. “It's all right. I won't be gone long.” I step back, my heart hammering. I want to thank her for her quiet kindness and patience. I want to beg Oskar to forgive me for bringing death and killing into his life again, but it's too late for all that. I allow myself one more look at him, remembering how only yesterday I was tucked against his body, happier than I've ever been. “Good-bye,” I whisper.

My face crumples as I turn away and stride toward the entrance to the cavern. Every step is an act of will. I ignore the fearful whispers as I walk by the row of shelters. None of that matters now, because this isn't my home anymore. These people will be safer because I'm not here.

I wrap my arms around myself and walk into the open air. My boots slosh in the water melted from the enormous block of ice. The fire wielders are still working on it, and they haven't yet freed a single body. Harri's foot is sticking out of the top, though, and one of the constables' hands is poking from the side, gray and still. The wielders give me uneasy looks as I shuffle past. Clearly everyone has heard, but they all look too scared to ask me—am I the mad Valtia?

They have no reason to fear me; they'll never see me again. I hike the narrow trail that winds upward toward the marshlands. Several cave dwellers pass me, leading saddled horses—the constables and priests must have left behind nearly two dozen well-fed mounts. I cross my arms over my chest and keep my eyes downcast, praying that Freya hasn't chosen these minutes to return. I don't think I could hide the pain of another good-bye. As I emerge from the cavern trail, a frigid wind tears the kerchief from my coppery locks, which twist in the gusts. I shiver—the winter is descending once more, and I have miles to go before I reach the city. But after weeks of getting accustomed to this kind of walking, I think I can probably reach the gates by nightfall.

Perhaps a quarter mile ahead of me is the long strip of woods where Oskar found me, though the actual spot must be miles to the north. I smile as I think of the first time I saw him, how scared I was of this bearlike boy, how quickly that fear turned to admiration and then slowly to affection. The wind gusts again, pushing me forward, and I turn away from the woods to take the path that connects to the road leading to the city. Freed from the snow by this morning's unnatural thaw, the dry marsh grass rustles and hisses. The tree branches of the forest scrape together. It almost sounds like they're screaming.

It almost sounds like they're screaming
my name
.

Behind me, there's a rumble of thunder. Another blast of breeze, but this one is warm. And the trees are still screaming through the roar of the wind. I look to my left and catch a flash of movement amid the tree trunks.

The thunder becomes the
clomp-clomp
of hooves. I gasp and whirl around. Two men on horseback are racing toward me. I stumble back as one of them raises a club—the kind carried by the constables. I turn to run, but my head explodes with agony and I fall. My vision blurs as I open my eyes to a cloaked figure striding toward me. He tosses his hood back to reveal white-blond hair and dark-brown eyes.

“Is this her, Jouni?” Sig asks, leaning over me. I try to scoot away from him, but my head throbs and it's all I can do not to retch. Something sticky and warm drips into my ear.

“That's her,” Jouni says in his deep, buzzing voice.

Sig grins, and his eyes flicker with the flames of war. “Excellent.”

I
slap at Sig's face as he reaches for me, but Jouni dismounts his horse and coils a thick hemp rope around my body, pinning my arms to my sides. Sig swings himself into the saddle, and Jouni bundles me up to join him. I kick and claw, but I'm so dizzy that I can barely hold my head up.

“I'm sorry I had to hit you,” Sig says, his breath hot against my ear as he anchors his arm around my waist. “I needed to catch you by surprise, seeing as I'm not eager to have my skin burned off.” I feel a poke at my side and catch the flash of a blade in the sunlight. “But if I feel you trying, I'll be ready.”

With that, he spurs the horse into motion, and it's all I can do not to vomit. My brain rattles in my skull and my stomach roils. Hooves pound the trail below me. Sig's arm is a bronze bar against my middle, and his chest is like a furnace against my back. Wind smacks at my face and tangles my hair. I don't know which direction they're taking me or how long we've been riding or what time it is, but I wish I could close my eyes and make it all stop.

Finally, I'm jerked from my stupor as Sig reins in his horse. Blinking in the midday sun, I catch glimpses of sandy dunes and blue sky as he pulls me from the saddle. My head lolls on his shoulder. He carries me along a short path between two dunes, to an open patch of sand. There's no snow here, and I wonder if the thaw caused that, or if Sig himself melted it all away. A large fire pit occupies the center of the space, and it's surrounded by sleeping pallets and cooking implements. A young woman, her long, brown hair knotted at the back of her head, is roasting what looks like a hare on a spit. She stares as Sig plops me down on a pallet. I turn my face to the wool blanket, fighting the nausea that bubbles inside me.

“Where are the others?” Jouni asks.

“I sent them into the city last night to fetch some supplies and information,” says Sig, squatting next to me. “Yesterday morning I got word that the priests opened up the temple, and I wanted to know what was happening.” He pats my shoulder. “But maybe now we know. It didn't even occur to me when I saw you the first time. Elli, wasn't it?”

“I'm not the Valtia,” I say with a moan.

“I told you she'd say that,” says Jouni. “But I saw the mark myself. Take a look if you doubt me.”

Sig chuckles. “I doubt everyone.” His hand slides down my hip but pauses over my pocket, and his fingers dip inside. He comes up holding my carved wooden dove. His gaze traces its wings as my fingers flex with want—it's all I have left of Oskar. “Oh, my,” he says in a low voice. “I haven't seen one of these in a long time.”

His eyes meet mine, full of speculation and a darkness that I don't know how to translate. The bird looks so fragile, held between his pale fingers. I drink in the sight of it, expecting him to snap its wings off and toss it into the fire. Then, slowly, he slips it back into my pocket. I have no time to feel relief, though, because he pulls up the bottom of my gown. “Which leg?”

“Don't touch me,” I whisper.

“Left,” Jouni says.

Sig's warm fingers are on my thigh, and I clench my fists, wishing I could stop him as he slides my stocking down, past my knee, along my calf, and reveals the blood-flame mark. He whistles and pulls my skirt over my legs again. “How did you manage to hide yourself for so long?”

“Because I'm
not
the Valtia. I know I have all the marks, but I swear I'm not her.”

Sig purses his lips. “Then how did you manage to encase so many men, a fair number of them magic wielders, in a giant block of ice?”

Jouni laughs. “And then she got Oskar of all people to take the blame.”

Sig's head jerks up. “What?”

Jouni's smile evaporates. “Oskar. He was with her. Bragged that he—”

“Oskar would never brag, especially about something like that,” Sig snaps. “You didn't mention he was there.”

Jouni slides his cap off his disheveled reddish-blond hair. “I didn't think it was important. You told me he had ice magic, but I've never seen him do anything with it.”

“That's not because he can't.” Sig plops down in the sand next to my pallet, frowning. “He was protecting her, Jouni, either because of who she is—or who she's not. I need to know which it is, though.” His eyes flare with light, and he shoves off the ground. His arms hanging loose at his sides, he takes a few steps back and throws off his cloak. Beneath it, he wears no tunic, only trousers and boots. He spreads his fingers, and twin spheres of flame burst from nothing and hover a few inches from his palms.

I wrench myself up to sitting, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. My arms are still bound at my sides. “Just let me go,” I plead.

“Free yourself, Valtia,” he says. Then he hurls one of the spheres at me. It hits me in the chest, setting the hemp ropes aflame. They fall away from me as he hurls the second ball of fire right at my face. I feel the kiss of its warmth on my cheeks, a polite greeting, before the fire disappears. Sig's brow furrows and light flickers in his dark pupils.

Jouni curses and steps back, just like Freya did when Sig heated the air in the cavern. Sig himself is sweating now, cooking in the fire of his own making. A shining drop slides down his chiseled face as he watches me sitting before him, feeling nothing at all.

“Tuuli,” he finally barks.

The brown-haired woman lays her spitted hare on a stack of flat stones. “You want ice?” When he nods, she grins. “As you wish.”

She comes closer, regarding me with her dark-gray eyes. I smile wearily at her. I'm so tired of people shooting their ice and fire at me, and it's not like I can pretend anymore—it's impossible to fake serious burns and ugly frostbite, and I'm in too much real pain to put on an act. Tuuli's hands rise from her sides, her fingers shiny with grease. Her lips are pressed together and her arms shake with the force of her efforts to wield the magic inside her.

Perhaps she's trying to freeze my blood. The air around me cools, but I cannot help the thought—she is
nothing
compared to Oskar. Of course, the faintest reminder of him makes my throat tight. Will he be relieved when he discovers I'm gone?

Tuuli's chin trembles, and she shivers within the frost of her magic. Even Sig has goose bumps on his pale chest now. But me? The only thing that's left me cold is knowing that Oskar might be glad to be rid of me.

“You look chilled,” I say to the magic wielders in front of me.

Tuuli lets out a frustrated breath, and her arms drop to her sides. She gives Sig a nervous look. “I—I could try to—”

“Don't bother,” Sig says, staring at me.

Tuuli's shoulders sag as she returns to her cooking, but Sig looks more intrigued than disappointed. “Only someone with balanced magic could withstand fire and ice like that,” he says, moving closer once more. “But why don't you strike at us?”

I'm saved from answering by the whinny of a few horses just beyond the dunes. Sig had said he was camping at the oak bluffs, a stretch of high cliffs over the Motherlake on the northwestern shore of the peninsula. The city must be only an hour's ride from here, northeast through the woods. If I can escape, perhaps steal a horse—

“Oy! Sig!” comes a gruff voice.

“Here,” calls Sig.

A short, stocky man with a thick beard and coppery hair jogs between the dunes. “They've found the Saadella,” he huffs, planting his palms on his thighs. “The herald announced it in the square this morning. Discovered her last night, apparently, as her parents tried to sneak her out of the city. And the temple just announced that the coronation of the Valtia will be at sunset. She's agreed to end her mourning and appear.”

Sig's eyes narrow. “But . . . Usko, I thought you told me they were searching for the Valtia.” He glances at me and then back to the new arrival.

Usko scratches at his beard and nods. “That's what I'd heard from a constable, but the priests' official stance has always been that she was in mourning.”

Jouni scoffs. “Then why did seven of them—including an elder—show up at the caverns this morning, looking for her?”

Usko pauses mid-scratch. “They did?” He looks me over. “Um . . . who are you?”

“Who do you think she is, idiot?” says Jouni, rolling his eyes.

Sig arches a golden eyebrow as he squats next to me. “So who are they crowning at sunset, Elli?”

My heart pounds against my breast. Could the elders have found the true Valtia, the one who always should have been there, the one whose place I stole? Is she the one in charge now, like Oskar and I suspected this morning? Do the priests want to kill me in order to silence me, or have they realized what I am and decided I'm their enemy? Would the true Valtia welcome me as her sister—or will Aleksi and the others poison her against me?

Anger at the elders burns inside me, and Sig must sense the heat, because his eyes snap to mine. He tilts his head, then offers me his hand. “Come with me.”