From my balcony, the Motherlake appears infinite. She stretches vast and powerful to the horizon, where she kisses the sky. Trout and razorfin teem beneath her blue skin, all shimmering power and motion, but from here, she looks serene and perfect. She keeps her secrets well.
I lean forward, letting the cool breeze toss my long, coppery hair around my face. In a few hours, I must be flawless and composed, but I’m not on display quite yet. Right now I’m just Elli, and for the moment, it’s enough. I spread my arms and pretend I’m flying.
From behind me comes a startled laugh. “You’re making my job much harder,” says Mim, but her tone is fond. I whirl around and grin at her. Her blue eyes, just a shade darker than mine, sparkle with excitement. She’s already dressed in her finest gown and pulled her brown hair into a braided coil. I love the tiny curls that swirl at the nape of her neck. At twenty, she could have found a handsome man to marry by now, but she’s been serving me since she was a little girl, chosen by the elders for her sweet and patient temperament.
I know she feels honored to serve me. Sometimes, though, I wish—
“The Valtia and her handmaiden will be here any minute,” she says, gesturing inside. “Can we start the preparations now, or are you determined to let the wind knot your hair some more?”
I slap my hand over the top of my head. “Oh no—is it a tangled mess?”
She arches an eyebrow and nods. “But I can fix it. Let me work my kind of magic.”
A gust of wind chases me inside the ceremonial dressing chamber, making the drapes flap. Mim tsks and pulls the wooden doors to the balcony shut. When I’m the Valtia, I’ll be able to do the same thing with a mere thought. The most powerful Valtia who ever existed, Kauko whispers in my memory.
I shiver as Mim guides me to the cushioned stool in front of the wide copper plate that serves as our mirror. “Do you need a blanket for your legs?” she asks.
I shake my head, warmer already because of her attention. She places a cup of water in my hands. “I know you get so thirsty on these ceremony days.”
I lift the hammered copper mug to my lips and moan softly at the relief of cold water in my mouth. “You’re a jewel.”
She chuckles. “I’m a stone. You’re a jewel. The people will be in awe when they see you.” She gives my shoulders a little squeeze and begins to work on my hair. “Lovely. Like burnished copper,” she says, drawing the brush through my straight, thick locks.
I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of the bristles against my scalp, inhaling Mim’s warm cinnamon scent. Before long, though, my thoughts drift back to where they’ve been since my conversation with Elder Kauko. Has he really known this thing about me all these years? I became the Saadella so young that I have almost no memory of what came before, but I know it was not special or remarkable, not until the red flame mark on my left leg erupted.
“Your thoughts are far away,” says Mim.
“I was thinking of the day I was chosen.”
“I was only eight, but it’s as clear in my mind as if it were yesterday,” she says as she starts to braid my hair. “I would have been screaming for my mother, but you looked as serious as an elder as you were placed on the paarit. Your little fingers clutched the chair so tightly as the acolytes lifted you into the air! A four-year-old with filthy feet and a torn tunic, but my father said he could tell you were the true future queen.”
This part, I remember. I wasn’t screaming because I was numb. I’ve long since forgotten my mother’s face, but I remember being paralyzed with the knowledge that she had given me to these strange men and allowed them to carry me away. I had no idea yet what I’d gained. “It’s amazing how much one day can change everything,” I murmur.
Mim pins a coil of my hair into position and stares at my reflection in the copper plate. “More change is coming,” she says quietly.
My eyes meet hers. “It won’t happen for many years.”
“The Valtia is finishing her third decade of life. The apprentices whisper about it in the kitchens. They say she’s looking pale these days. Some of them wonder how many years she has left.”
“You shouldn’t speak of our queen’s death in such a casual way, Mim.” Knowing that one day another handmaiden will be telling my young Saadella that I will die soon makes my tone sharper than it should be.
Mim bows her head. “You’re so right, my Saadella.” There’s a pang in my chest—she rarely calls me by my title unless we’re in public, and her doing so now, with her hands in my hair and her body close enough to feel her warmth, makes loneliness bubble up inside me.
I clear my throat and try to think of a safe place to steer our conversation, but voices in the corridor bring it to a complete halt. Mim’s fingers go still, mid-plait.
“—that it’s time to intervene,” Elder Aleksi is saying, his hard-edged voice sending a chill up my back. “The miners need access immediately.”
“Immediately? I don’t see the harm in taking the time to negotiate,” comes my Valtia’s reply as she’s carried into the chamber in her veiled sedan chair. Tiny beads of sweat glisten on the bald heads of the four black-robed male acolytes who bear the poles. My toes curl and my hands fist in my skirt as they set the chair down in the center of the chamber. I want to throw myself into the Valtia’s arms, but I stay where I am, because I don’t want to embarrass her in any way.
Aleksi, clad in his black priest’s robe, stands beside the copper-inlaid sedan. “Negotiate? My queen, remember who we’re dealing with.”
“Human beings, I assume,” says the Valtia.
Aleksi looks as if he’s harboring a thousand angry words in that swell of flesh beneath his chin. Judging by the way his thin lips are pressed tight together, he’s fighting to hold them inside. He gives me a cursory bow.
“My Saadella,” he says as he straightens. “Forgive me for intruding on your preparations.” He turns to the Valtia’s chair and addresses one of the veiled windows. “The raids have made the farmers restless, and now the miners—”
“Tell them to mine somewhere else for the time being.”
Though his jowls quiver, his mouth barely moves as he speaks. “My Valtia, they claim there is nowhere else.”
“What?” My queen’s voice has sharpened.
Aleksi looks over at me and Mim. “We can speak more tonight,” he says as he turns back to her. “We must make a decision after the harvest ceremony—”
“After the harvest ceremony, I will be dining with my Saadella, as I do every year,” she replies, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ll meet with the elders in the morning and no sooner.”
Aleksi clenches his fist, then gives Mim and me a sidelong glance and tucks his hand into the folds of his robe. He chuckles, a sound as dank as the catacombs. “Of course, my Valtia.” With a swish of his flabby hand, he dismisses the acolytes, who bow their way out the door to join the others in the grand domed chamber of our temple, where today’s procession will begin. “We’ll await your arrival with eagerness.”
As soon as Aleksi exits, the Valtia’s handmaiden steps around the other side of the sedan chair. Helka, a stout woman with a deep dimple in her chin, shakes her head as she pushes aside the veil at the front of the chair. “You were patient with him,” she mutters, opening the half door to allow the Valtia to step out.
As our queen’s slippered foot touches the sanctified ground of our chamber, Mim and I sink to our knees. I lower my forehead to the floor, the marble cool against my skin.
“Enough. You’re not an acolyte,” the Valtia says with a musical laugh. “I haven’t seen you in months, Elli. Get up off the floor and let me look at you.”
I grin as I rise, but my happiness turns to ice when I see her face. The apprentices were correct—she is pale. Her cheeks are hollow, and there are dark circles beneath her blue eyes. She looks as if she’s been carved out with a dull blade, all pointy elbows and sharp collarbones.
I force my uneasiness down and look at her with all the admiration she deserves.
Her full lips curve into a loving smile as she beckons to me. “Come here, darling. Stars, you’re so lovely. Can you really be sixteen already? You’ve become a woman in the last year!” She holds out her arms, and I eagerly rush into her embrace, leaning my cheek against the soft wool of her cream-colored gown. She strokes my face, her fingertips pulsing with warm affection. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers.
“I’ve missed you, too, my Valtia,” I mumble, squeezing her tight, trying to ignore the hard outline of her ribs against my arms. It doesn’t matter that I see her so rarely—she is my true mother. I’ve been told that the connection between the Valtia and the Saadella is as deep and fundamental as the veins of copper in the earth, but that doesn’t begin to describe it. From the moment she took me in her arms, I knew I belonged to her.
We pull apart, and she takes my face in her hands. I’m as tall as she is now. Her hair is a perfect copper coil on the top of her head, ready to hold her crown in place. “Shall we prepare to be seen by our people?” she asks.
“I’m ready.” My voice shakes with excitement, but also nerves.
Our handmaidens arrange our chairs in front of the wide copper mirror, and Mim sets back to work on my hair as Helka prepares the Valtia’s ceremonial makeup.
“Aleksi seemed frustrated,” I venture. “More trouble in the outlands?”
Mim clears her throat, and my mouth snaps shut. I’m not supposed to know about any of that.
Helka, her graying blond hair twisted in a bun like Mim’s, blows a loose strand off her forehead. “Such questions,” she says, clucking her tongue. “Can we not leave our Valtia in peace for a few minutes at least?”
The Valtia pats her maid’s hand. “When I’m gone, she’ll be queen, Helka. She can ask me anything she wants.” Her gaze meets mine in the mirror as Mim begins to plait another section of my hair. “From all reports, it’s been a plentiful year for our farmers.”
“Thanks to you.” She kept the heat from scorching the crops and held back a cold snap that could have killed vulnerable shoots. Our bounty comes to us because of her magic.
Her pale eyes glitter, the same icy blue as mine. “But there have been Soturi raids on some of the farmsteads and cottages, more this year than last, all along the northern coastline. The farmers were already dealing with the criminals who have been banished from the city. They want more protection.”
I grit my teeth. “The Soturi are getting bold.” We don’t know much about them, but perhaps fifteen years ago, they began to cross the Motherlake in their longships, wielding their iron swords, raiding for goods to trade and food to get them through the brutal winter.
Mim pins my final braid into place. “It’s scaring the people, my Valtia,” she says quietly.
The Valtia nods, even as Helka glares at Mim for her impertinence. “And now apparently the miners are worried that they’ve run out of places to mine!”
Helka rubs her palms on her skirt. “Forgive me for saying so, but it had to happen sometime.”
My Valtia sighs. “I suppose so. But apparently there’s a very large cave system in the south that has been left untouched, and now a horde of bandits has decided it would be an ideal place to squat for the winter.” She gives me an uneasy sidelong glance. “A group of miners confronted them this morning. It turned into a fight.”
“And now the miners want you to take action,” I guess.
She nods. “The elders are concerned that if I don’t, the miners will petition the city council to raise a militia.”
“Without giving you the time to consider the best way to handle it?” After all the magic wielders of the temple have done for the Kupari, it strikes me as ungrateful.
The Valtia’s soft hand covers mine, sending warmth radiating up my arm. “They are frightened, Elli. And between the bandits in the caves and the Soturi who are now to our southeast, I can understand why they feel that way.”
I scowl. Mim told me how the Soturi crushed the city-state of Vasterut a few months ago, how it’s now part of their barbaric empire. “Vasterut is not Kupari. Its people are not blessed, and they had a king.” My voice rises with every word. “They did not have a Valtia.”
She squeezes my hand. “Exactly.” She lifts my fingers and lays them against her cool, hollow cheek. “Now let’s allow our handmaidens to do their work, so we can calm all our people’s fears today.”
I nod. This is my responsibility too, and I’m eager to do my part. As our maids mix the vinegar and white lead powder, I breathe slowly, willing myself to be calm. Mim moves her hands to my waist, and I lift my arms so she can draw my simple red gown off. This is a dance we do every day, as she cares for my body as if it were her own. Next to us, the Valtia and her handmaiden are doing the same waltz, their movements perfectly synchronized after years of practice. As the creamy material slides off the Valtia’s slender frame, I spot the bandages in the crooks of her arms, each dotted with blood.
My throat tightens. “Valtia, are you ill?” I manage to whisper.
She folds her arms across her chest. “I’m fine. But Elder Kauko’s been helping me maintain the balance I need in preparation for the winter to come.”
The elder downplayed the presence of magic in the blood, but it sounds like the opposite is true. “How exactly does bleeding help you maintain the balance?”
The air around us cools enough to raise goose bumps. “It siphons some of the fire magic that’s lain dormant during the hotter months.”
I silently resolve to be a lot more persistent in my questioning during my next lesson with Elder Kauko. The Valtia’s eyes narrow as she takes in the hard set of my mouth, and then she looks down at her bandaged arms. “I trust in the wisdom of our elders, Elli. When your time comes, you’ll need to do the same.”
I lower my eyes, my cheeks hot despite the cold room. “Of course, my Valtia.”
A warm breeze tickles the back of my neck, the Valtia’s tender caress, and it draws a relieved smile back to my face. “Look at me, darling,” she says quietly. When I do, she adds, “We rely on the elders. But always remember—you’re still the queen.” Then she winks, and my spirits rise like the sun.
I close my eyes and listen to Mim cracking eggs and mixing the yolks with the vinegar and white lead paste, her brush scraping the bottom of the stone bowl in rhythmic swishes. When the people look at me today, I want them to see their future queen, the one who will keep their crops growing and their bellies full, the one who will keep the enemy from our shores. The most powerful Valtia who ever existed. I want to look like I could become that person. I stay perfectly still as Mim brushes the snow-white liquid onto my face. Its astringent fumes burn my nose, but I don’t even flinch. From this moment until Mim bathes me late tonight so I can dine privately with the Valtia, I cannot move my face, cannot smile or frown.
Helka finishes with the Valtia and takes her behind the screen to be dressed. The Valtia is silent now, like me, unwilling to damage her perfect exterior. When Mim’s covered my face, neck, and chest with the pure white paint, she uses her tiny brush to slick the bloodred stain over my lips. Next she dusts copper powder over my eyelids and temples, holding the thick paper pattern against my skin to get the dots and swirls just right. While she does, I think of copper, and how it defines us, and how I always assumed it was as infinite as the Valtia’s magic . . . until today.
“You are a living treasure,” Mim says, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you ready to be dressed?”
I blink twice so I don’t crack my shell. Mim pats my arm, and for a moment I see sadness in her eyes, or maybe pity.
Wishing I could ask her what’s wrong, I rise carefully and step behind a screen on the other side of the room. Mim strips off my underskirt and stockings, then rubs my body with rose oil. Like always, she carefully avoids touching my red flame mark, as if she’s afraid it will burn her. But though it might look like a flame, in all the years I’ve borne it on my skin, it’s been nothing but a swirling patch of nothingness. I wonder if that will change when the magic is awakened inside me. Perhaps then my mark will burn with the thundering power of the ice and fire magic in my body. I’ll have to ask the Valtia about it tonight.
Mim gently rolls new bloodred stockings onto my feet, pulling them all the way up to my thighs. I suppress another shiver as her fingertips slide over my skin, and I cannot help my twinge of disappointment when her touch disappears. She wraps the flowing, gauzy underdress around my waist and lets it fall in waves to my ankles. Her deft fingers lace and tie the corset so tightly that I can barely breathe, but I would never tell her of my discomfort. She’ll be judged by the priests if I’m not flawless.
While the Valtia is led to her awaiting ceremonial paarit, much larger than the sedan chair in which she travels around the temple, Mim ushers my other maidservants inside. The Saadella’s gown is made from loom-woven wool dyed a deep red with madder root and calf’s blood. Copper threads make it sparkle. Mim holds my waist as I step into it, and the attendants pull the sleeves up to my arms and fasten the gown to the corset. This dress weighs a stone at least and is so stiff that if I fainted dead away, it would probably still hold me up.
A little maid who can’t be older than twelve comes forward with my slippers on a special cushion. Her hands tremble as she lays them at my feet. I glance at my reflection in a metal plate on the wall, to see what she sees. I am snow white, bloodred, and copper glory. When I stand by the Valtia, everyone will know I belong there.
Mim presses the copper circlet onto my head. Studded with polished agates pulled from the shores of the Motherlake, it’s a solid weight on my skull. With that done, I’m led to the corridor, where my own paarit awaits. Impassive and expressionless, I walk slowly to it and take my seat on the chair that’s bolted to the platform. It’s adorned with intricate carvings of wolves descending from the stars to lay waste to the enemies of the Kupari, meant to symbolize the Valtia’s magic.
As soon as I’m settled, the bearers are called. They stride from the side hallways, looking fine in their scarlet tunics and hats. Each year, the priests choose eight of the strongest young men in the city to have the honor of carrying the Valtia and the Saadella on harvest day. The four chosen for my paarit bow to me one by one, then take up their positions at each corner. Their muscles strain beneath their uniforms as they lift me from the ground and set the ends of the horizontal poles on their shoulders. One of them, a boy with warm brown eyes and golden hair, gives me a curious sidelong glance. His cheeks turn red when he realizes I’ve caught him looking.
For a moment, I recall Mim’s pity and think perhaps I understand it perfectly. I’ll never know what it feels like to be loved by one, because I must be loved by all. I’ll never feel the touch of a lover, because my body is a vessel for magic. It only bothers me sometimes, like when I glance at Mim sitting by the fire on winter evenings. Her secret smile, meant just for me, leaves a pit in my stomach every time. And as I watch the handsome bearer’s strong hands wrap around the pole, I feel the same stab of longing.
I tear my gaze from him and look down the corridor. Already the priests are milling about under the dome that marks the main chamber of the temple. Their shapeless, hooded garments are belted with rope to signify their life as servants of the Valtia, their round heads shaved bald, their skin pale from lack of sunlight, their shoulders stooped from hours spent hunched over their sacred star charts or peering through their telescopes. They remind me a bit of the waddling turkeys in the temple menagerie.
Mim scoots ahead of the bearers and looks up at me. “You are blessed, Saadella,” she says in a loud, clear voice.
In unison, the bearers and maidservants repeat the phrase, and then we’re moving. I focus on being still and regal as I float down the corridor. The priests stride to the outer edges of the domed chamber and stand in a circle, their backs against stone walls inlaid with veins of copper, the treasure hidden within the flesh of our beautiful land.
Next to Elder Aleksi, on the east side of the chamber, is Elder Leevi, his thick red eyebrows slashing across his prominent, smooth brow, his deep-set blue eyes darting. And beside him is Elder Kauko, potbellied and square-jawed.
The elders are so different and yet similar. It’s difficult to tell how old they are—though they have a few gray hairs, their skin is smooth and youthful. In fact, all the priests share those qualities, as if they age more slowly once they ascend from apprenticeship.
The acolytes—both female and male—and the apprentices, all male, kneel at the back of the round chamber, their hoods over their heads, their faces concealed, their pale hands clasped in front of them. Some of them are small, no older than ten—and I wonder if one of them is Niklas, the little fire wielder Aleksi brought to us a few days ago. I hope he is well enough to join us today.
My paarit bearers stride to the center of the chamber and take up their position over the symbol of the Saadella, three circles entwined, one for fire, one for ice, and one for the balance between the two. It is pure potential, as I’m supposed to be. My heart kicks within my chest as Kauko raises his arm, signaling that we’re ready for the Valtia’s entrance.
Her bearers’ steps are synchronized as they carry her from an alcove on the west side of the domed chamber, and all the acolytes and apprentices bow until their foreheads touch stone. She’s now wearing her magnificent crown, which is polished and shining with the single agate that adorns its apex, a perfect eye of carnelian and amethyst. Her gown is a grand confection of woven copper thread, with a high, round collar that fans around her head. The bearers lower her to the ground, positioning her over her own seal, the symbol of infinity, two loops of pristine, snowy marble within a solid circle of copper, symmetrical and simple.
Kauko steps forward with a carved wooden box in his hands. He bows to the Valtia and opens it, revealing the cuff of Astia, copper emblazoned with red runes, the sacred object she uses to project her power. She holds out her arm, and he reverently fastens it to her wrist.
As soon as it clicks into place, she raises her finger, and the candles in the room burst to life at once, vibrant pricks of light in the dim chamber. The acolytes and apprentices rise to their feet and throw back their hoods, revealing their shaved heads and somber expressions. The trumpeters just outside the temple see the signal and blow their horns. A massive cheer floats in from the city. The Valtia and I are carried out of the Temple on the Rock and into the sunlight, our bearers slowly walking down the long set of marble steps until we reach the white plaza. Our procession, the priests, apprentices, and acolytes trailing behind, strides between the two stone fountains from which jut majestic statues of the first Valtia, one gazing out on the city, the other facing the Motherlake.
At the southern end of the white plaza, the ceremonial gates are wide open, and our citizens line the road outside the temple grounds. They toss coneflowers and dahlias and amaranth blossoms into the mud at the bearers’ booted feet as we pass. A regal tune from the pipes and drums fills the air, as does the scent of roasting venison and bear meat. My stomach growls, and I’m happy no one can hear it. My skin pricks with sweat under the midafternoon sun, but then a cool wind blows across my face, a gift from the queen by my side.
We enter the town square to a roar of adoration. The people keep up the steady stream of blessings and prayers and shouted words of love as we are carried up the steps of the high platform at the northern end of the square. The apprentices and acolytes stand in rows around the platform, keeping the citizens at a distance. As soon as the bearers set us down and descend the steps, the Valtia rises and the crowd falls silent. She offers me her hand.
I rise to a soft, collective intake of breath. They see how I’m like her. My lips tighten to rein in my smile, and I lay my palm on hers. Together, we face our subjects, and my chest nearly bursts with pride. There are thousands of people in this square, filling every inch of space. At the southern side, which leads to our farmlands along the coast, the men and women who till the earth raise their pitchforks and scythes in salute. If they’re angry about the bandits and Soturi raiders, you wouldn’t know it today. At the eastern side of the square, which leads to the main gates of the city, the mines and the outlands, the trappers and hunters have hung gorgeous pelts from the wooden arch that overhangs the road, and the miners lift their hammers high. I can’t tell from this distance if there is desperation in their movements, if they truly fear that there is only one source of copper left on our sprawling peninsula.
At the western side of the square, which leads to the docks where our fleet of fishing boats is moored, the men and women who sail our Motherlake wave their caps in the air. Their wind-chapped, rosy-cheeked faces are a sight to see, and—
Several of them stumble forward as they’re hit from behind. Four men, their faces sweaty and red with exertion, push their way through the crowd as whispers roll through the square. “Valtia!” one of them shouts, his voice cracking. “Valtia, you must come!”
The Valtia raises her arm, and the crowd parts to allow the men through. They stumble up the steps and throw themselves at her feet, their chests heaving. “Please, Valtia,” the oldest one says between ragged breaths, sweat dripping from his iron-gray hair. “We were bringing in our catch about ten miles off the tip of the peninsula, and we saw . . . we saw . . .”
He succumbs to a fit of coughing, and a younger fisherman pushes himself up to kneel in front of us. His blond, curly hair sticks out in crazy hunks around his head, and his eyes are glazed with horror. “The Soturi. We rowed back to shore as quickly as we could,” he says between panting breaths.
A violent twist of heat and cold shoots up my arm, and I cannot suppress my gasp. The Valtia holds my hand tightly as Elder Aleksi steps forward, his jowls trembling. “How dare you interrupt the harvest ceremony to tell us of a petty raid,” he hisses at the man.
The older fisherman groans and shakes his head. “Not a raid! Two hundred longships at least. We were only a few miles ahead of them. They’ll be here before the sun sets.”
Two hundred longships. Raw fear blooms inside me. The barbarians from the north aren’t raiding this time—they’re invading. I stare at my Valtia. We all do. Waiting for our queen to save us from destruction and death.
Her skin is ice cold as she releases my hand. And when she speaks, her voice is quiet but startling in its steadiness. “Take me to the docks. I’m going to need a ship.”