The Impostor Queen (9 page)

“Three basic tasks is all,” says Aleksi, smiling as if it is nothing. “The same that we ask of all our apprentices and acolytes when they first come into our care, so that we may evaluate which element—ice or fire—is more powerful within them.” He chuckles. “Of course, you will easily complete each.”

He gestures to my left, where a shallow copper bowl full of water sits on a stone pedestal. “Turn the water to ice.” He points to my right, at a sheet of parchment on another pedestal. “Burn it to ash.” Then he slides his plump finger over to the third pedestal, directly in front of me. On it sits a pebble, the kind that litters the shore of the Motherlake. “Make that rise into the air and float.”

All things they expect from apprentices and acolytes. Simple.

I hitch what I hope is a serene smile onto my face. “As you wish.” I move to the basin of water first, because I remember trying to awaken the fire inside me last night, and I don't feel ready to burn the parchment just yet. My heart drumming in my hollow chest, I close my eyes and reach for the magic that I know must be there.

Help me, Sofia, my Valtia. I know you would never abandon me.

I hold out my hand, palm down, a few inches above the surface of the water. There is complete silence in this arena, but I can feel the priests' rapt attention like fingers clutching at the hem of my dress. I blow a slow breath from between my tingling lips and summon the cold. I picture the thick ice that forms in rough plates over the Motherlake in winter, the chunks of it that bob and collide in the spring. When I feel the shiver, my soul cheers. Here it comes.

But when I open my eyes, the water is . . . as watery as ever. What I felt was the chill of the chamber, nothing more. For the first time, a blade of fear slices straight down my backbone. I try again, gritting my teeth and drawing the cool air around me like a cloak, willing it to coalesce in a frigid blast of air.

Behind me, I hear a soft grumble, one priest whispering his doubt to another. I whirl around—it's Eljas, his flattish nose and wide-set blue eyes giving him the appearance of a toad. He was one of my tutors, assigned to teach me the geography of the known world, and I remember his musty, dank smell better than any of my lessons. “How am I supposed to concentrate if you're gossiping, Priest Eljas?”

Eljas crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn't have to concentrate,” he says in an even voice. “Freezing the water in that bowl should be as easy as breathing.”

I scowl up at him. “It's not as if I've ever been taught a thing about how to wield the magic.”

“You need to be
taught
how to do something this paltry?” He waves his hand, and the water in the bowl turns to cloudy ice. The priest next to him mirrors the movement, and the ice instantly melts—and then the water begins to boil.

It turns to steam that bathes my face, leaving it slick and warm. It's a mercy, because perhaps it conceals the tear that slips from my eye. My Valtia said she'd never leave me, and now I can't find her. She promised. She
promised
.

But her promises weren't unbreakable, as it turns out.

Kauko stands up. “Try the stone, my Valtia,” he says softly. “Use the heat and cold to raise it from the pedestal.” He gives me an encouraging smile, but it's the only one in the room. All the others wear frowns of doubt, and Aleksi's is particularly vile, his black brows so low that I can barely see his eyes.

I compose myself and stride over to the stone pedestal that stands between me and the elders. I recall all my lessons with Aleksi about the weather and wind, about what happens when hot and cold air collide. Straining every fiber of my muscles and heart and brain, I focus on changing the temperature of the pedestal, on heating it up while I cool the air above it. But instead of feeling the swell of power inside me, all I have is the echo of my pulse thrumming inside my head.

Aleksi shoots to his feet and points at me. “You denied the magic,” he growls, his thin lips pulled back from his bright-white teeth. “You were so wrapped up in your affection for Sofia that you chased away the power!” He looks around the room. “I can't sense magic in her at all. She doesn't want to be the Valtia!”

Kauko grasps Aleksi's arm. His square jaw is tense as he says, “I was there. She submitted to the magic. I heard her words with my own ears. And you know very well that the Valtia's magic is harder to detect because the elements balance each other out.”

Aleksi tears his sleeve from Kauko's grip. “She said the words, but she didn't mean them. How else can you explain this?” he hisses, gesturing at the tiny pebble that still sits, unmoving, on its pedestal. He clenches his fist and raises it in the air, and the stone glides upward. As it rises, my stomach sinks. With a flick of his wrist, he sends it flying across the room, so violently that when it hits the wall, it shatters above the heads of several priests in the top row. “She couldn't even make it wobble! She couldn't alter the water, and I would bet my
life
that she can't burn the parchment.”

His dark eyes meet mine, full of challenge. “Prove me wrong,
Valtia
.” He says the royal term like a curse.

“How dare you,” I whisper, but I can already see that I've lost the faith of my priests. My doubt floods in, peeling off my fragile confidence and leaving only raw pink skin, so easily bruised and torn. “I loved my Valtia. I was loyal to her. And her magic is inside me.”

“But you've corrupted yourself,” he says. “Gorging yourself on petty gossip from your handmaiden, on childish sentiment—” He bites back more accusations and turns away, as if he cannot stand to look at me. All his quiet resentment of my questions throughout the years seems to have risen now, at the most terrible time, right when I need the guidance and support of my elders.

The priests are murmuring among themselves, their puzzlement and anger rippling through the chamber, buffeting me from all sides. Leevi stands before me, and for a moment he looks as hollow as I feel. “The shock,” he says. “She had such a shock last night.”

“A shock? No thanks to you, Leevi.” Aleksi's double chin wobbles as he speaks. “If you were so concerned, you should have brought her straight to the Stone Chamber instead of indulging her selfish whims.” He jabs his finger at Leevi. “And Sofia was shocked too, when her Valtia wilted and faded over the course of a fortnight. But the power roiled within her as soon as Kaarin took that final breath. That is how it's always been. Don't tell me about shock.”

“The copper, then,” Leevi whispers, tossing the priests a nervous look.

Aleksi shakes his head. “We'd all be affected. And here of all places, that would not be a problem.”

“What about the copper?” I ask, loudly enough for several priests to stop their grumbling and turn to us.

“I said it is not a problem,” Aleksi replies in a low voice, every word drenched in contempt.

Kauko gives me a sidelong glance. “You read the prophecy, Aleksi.”

Aleksi's nostrils flare. “The part of it we have, yes.”

“You only have
part
of it?” I whisper, but doubt mutes my voice, and they don't seem to hear me.

Kauko sighs. “We read the star signs together, Aleksi, and they confirmed it. You've seen the clarity and size of her blood-flame mark—you were the one who found her! But perhaps the magic is buried deep. Maybe this is the part of the prophecy that was lost. Perhaps we're witnessing something completely new. And perhaps the current”—he, too, glances at the priests, many of whom are still staring—“
shortage
merely heralds the start of a new age.”

Leevi, fidgeting on Aleksi's other side, nods his agreement with Kauko, and upon seeing it, Aleksi's eyes narrow. “Then we must try to dig this magic up from wherever it is buried, because that would mean we need it now more than ever.”

The way he says it, little flecks of spittle flying from his mouth, fills me with dread. “Perhaps,” I say, “if I had a little more time—”

“We have no time,” shouts Aleksi, his face turning red. “The Soturi will regroup, or they could use their forces in Vasterut to strike again. The thieves' caverns are brimming with criminals who are raiding the farmsteads and attacking our miners! We need to get that copper. And the winter is coming—the people depend on that dome of warmth. We have no time!” His shrieking tone makes me wince, and when he leans forward, I nearly stagger back. “But what we do have is an obstinate girl too absorbed in her own feelings and desires to wield the magic
we
need to survive!”

I bow my head, afraid he might be right. “Wh-whatever you ask of me, I will do, Elders,” I stammer.

Kauko clasps his hands in front of his belly. “What about the trials?”

Leevi's jaw drops. “No Valtia in our history has ever been put through—”

“But perhaps we are witnessing something completely new.” Aleksi throws Kauko a resentful look and puts his hands on his wide hips, his fingers bunching in the rough black fabric of his robe. “I think Elder Kauko's suggestion is wise, as always.”

The other priests, who have all been whispering to themselves while the elders argue, fall silent. Kauko kneels on the step, and I look up at him. There is a dark shadow of stubble on his jaw and apology in his eyes. “Sometimes magic wielders are unable to summon the power at will,” he explains. “But in a stressful situation, it never fails them.” He winks. “It usually bursts forth with such strength that the wielder herself is surprised at the force of it.”

“Let us proceed, then,” I practically shout. At this point, I don't care what they do to me, as long as it brings the magic out. I know I can't do it on my own. I feel nothing inside me but empty numbness. Is that my grief, suppressing the ice and fire? If so, then why didn't Sofia experience the same thing after the death of her Valtia? I remember how sad she looked when she greeted me for the first time. She was still in mourning. Yet she'd already been crowned Valtia. She was already able to wield her power with ease and grace. But if my inability to do the same thing isn't because of grief, then what's wrong with me? Am I corrupted by my hungry curiosity, as Aleksi says? Are my desires, which I barely understand myself, causing this? Whatever it is, I'd give anything to fix it.

I straighten my shoulders and slowly turn in place, letting my icy-blue eyes take in every face. I feel the buzzing waves of numbness radiating from my blood-flame birthmark. I am not a mistake, not a commoner. I was chosen to be Valtia, and the stars were aligned on the day of my birth, and though I don't know exactly what that means, I know what Sofia said to me.

Never doubt.

“Elders,” I say in a high, steady voice. “I will face the trials with eagerness.”

Kauko nods his approval. “We will begin at midnight, then.”

The priests get up and begin to file out, but Leevi comes down the stairs and takes me by the arm. “Are you taking me back to my quarters?” I ask. I can't tell Mim of all my fears—I couldn't bear to disappoint her—but more than anything right now, I need to feel the warmth of her touch.

Leevi's blue eyes are as dark as a grave. “No, my Valtia. We have another place for you to wait.” His grip on me tightens as he marches me up the steps.

I
t is all I can do not to scream. With every breath, I will myself into silence. I tell myself to be still, to focus. I ignore the pain in my knees, my hips, my shoulders, my head. A bit of discomfort is nothing compared to what is at stake.

When I first saw the copper trunk, I came to a lurching halt, and Leevi dragged me the rest of the way. A single torch lit the tiny chamber, with dripping ceilings and a metallic scent hanging heavy in the air. Leevi had to stoop to avoid hitting his head. He leaned forward and opened the heavy lid, sickly green in the flickering light. Then he gestured toward the hallway, and two female acolytes entered, their eyes downcast. “Remove her clothes and help her inside,” Leevi instructed as I gaped in horror.

“Elder, why—,” I began.

He let out a sigh. “We are doing everything we can for you, my Valtia,” he said, an impatient edge sharpening his voice. “Must you question us now? Perhaps your time is best spent focused on the magic and how to use it to serve your people, who so desperately need this gift only you can give them.”

My cheeks burned with shame. “Yes, Elder,” I whispered.

He left, and the acolytes stripped me of my clothing, leaving me shivering and naked. They had to help me climb into the cold, unforgiving box because I could not control my trembling. I curled my knees to my chest and lay on my side, the metal walls cold against my shins, my spine, the back of my neck. My nose burned with the scent of sweat and terror.

“I know you have the magic, my Valtia,” one of the acolytes whispered as she looked down at me. “I hope this helps you.”