Ansa
The Torden will be the death of me. I swallow its murky depths before coughing them up once more.
“Ansa, this is for your own good!”
I buck, turning my face away from the liquid sloshing out of the wineskin Jaspar tries to press to my lips. But I can’t go far—I am weak as a nestling and chained to a cot. Warm broth trickles down my cheek and along my neck; I can smell it now, salty and rich. Hunger burbles inside me.
“I’m going to keep at it until you’ve downed at least half of this,” he says in an exasperated voice. “Kauko says he can heal your skin, but he can’t keep you from wasting away. That’s my job.”
“Let me die,” I croak. Tears sting my eyes. “Thyra . . .” I don’t mean to say her name aloud, but it bleeds from me all the same.
Jaspar’s jaw clenches. “I know, Ansa. I know.”
I glare at him. “You hated her.” It’s such a broken whisper that I’m surprised he seems to understand.
“We had our differences. But—” He bows his head abruptly, and when he raises it, I am shocked to see the shine of emotion in his eyes. “She was my cousin, and she did not deserve to die like that.”
“You saw her?”
He nods. “We were camped on the very northern edge of the great forest, and we saw the fires in the woods. Kauko said it was magical. He was worried that the Kupari wielders were coming for us. Then we realized—they were attacking someone else.”
I close my eyes in complete weariness as I recall the hours I spent protecting our warriors from the magical onslaught. “Thyra thought it might be Kauko who attacked us.”
“We would never have attacked you! My hope since fleeing Vasterut was to reclaim a homeland for our tribes, and to reach out to Thyra again.” He sniffles. “I realized she was right all along.”
“How stupid do you think I am?”
He lets out a grim chuckle. “Fine, Ansa. Have it your way. But we didn’t attack your camp. You know we’d rather stand with you than against you. I could have had my warriors lay siege to the tower in Vasterut. Even with the fighters from the other city-states, we would have had a long and terrible battle if I’d ordered it. But instead we left the city, and surrendered my father for you to decide his fate.”
“He’s dead,” I snap. “And he perished knowing you had abandoned him.”
There is something unreadable in his eyes, something deep and broken. “Did Thyra kill him?”
“No. I did.”
His lips twitch upward at the corners. “That was my next guess.”
“So now you can have your revenge.”
His pained smile disappears. “Krigere against Krigere is wrong, Ansa. Believe whatever you want of me, except that I would turn against my own brothers and sisters. I know that the last time we were together, we fought. But please remember that I wanted you on my side. I care for you. I always have. You must believe that.”
“I believe you want power, and nothing matters more to you.”
He touches my chin, and I open my eyes to see him leaning over me, his shaggy blond hair framing his face. “Yes, I want power, Ansa. Power to protect my tribe, and power to enable them to raise their young as rulers. Our numbers are dwindling. I’ve lost good warriors and andeners to sickness and starvation. We have no haven but Kupari.” He sighs. “It seemed possible. Kauko said they have no fighting force of their own, and no allies that will come to their aid like Vasterut did. The only thing standing in our way was this impostor without magic, and a few powerful wielders. We had no idea they would be so aggressive.”
Neither did Thyra. “So they came to the forest to keep us from setting foot in their land.” And Sig was with them. It is so hard to accept, but how else could they have known exactly where we were?
“They rained hell on you, judging from the damage.”
“Our warriors?” Suddenly I remember—they fled, on my orders. “Where are they?”
“No idea. I took only a few scouts with me to find out what was going on. We had almost reached you when two things happened at once—fire and ice billowed through the wood, forcing us to take cover. And then another quake struck. When both went quiet, we found the clearing, and you and Thyra in it, half concealed by torn-up earth.”
“Her body,” I whisper.
“We buried it, Ansa. With her daggers on her chest.” He holds his palm out, showing me a bandaged cut. “I bled over her grave. I know you would have if you could.” He strokes my cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he says, his voice cracking. “I carried you back here. When you are strong enough, we can go in search of your lost warriors. I know it will take time for you to trust me again, but when you do, we can unite our tribes and take Kupari for ourselves.”
My throat is tight as I say, “I promised her I would lead them. Make a home for them.” I wince. “In Kupari.” My supposed homeland and domain—and the source of all this agony.
“We’re not in Kupari right now,” Jaspar says. “The ground is so unstable there that we camped outside its borders. Kauko here says that it’s the impostor queen and her followers—they’ve upset the balance of magic. Kauko himself was feeling the effects—it was making him sick.”
As if summoned by the mention of his name, the old man appears at Jaspar’s side. He’s no longer completely bald—he has a helmet of dark hair over his round head. It makes him look younger, though I’m not sure how old he actually is. His skin is smooth and holds a healthy glow at odds with the gaunt looks of the Krigere warriors who cautiously pass my cot and gather around the fire where Carina sits. How has he fared so well? “My magic,” he says, wiggling his fingers over my body. “I nearly lost control.”
“He and his priests nearly set the camp ablaze,” Jaspar says. “But once we crossed the border out of Kupari again, all of them were fine.”
Kauko must discern the look on my face, because he says, “You felt it too. The sickness in your magic.”
I cannot deny it. “As soon as we reached the Kupari border.” I glare at the cuff on Kauko’s thick wrist. “And that was the only thing keeping me well.”
He touches the cuff. “I needed it to heal you, my Valtia. Without it I might have killed you.”
“It’s true,” Jaspar says. “He tried. It hurt both of you.”
I still hurt. Every part of me aches and itches. “Give it back, then.”
“When you are well and able to wield your magic, it will be yours, my Valtia. Until then, I use it to defend the camp and heal all wounds.”
He thinks I have forgotten how greedy he is, apparently. But right now there is nothing I can do—I’m too weak to move and held here by bonds of iron. If I tried to use magic to melt them, I would burn my own hands off. “I’ll need it before I go back to Kupari. I’ll be dangerous without it.”
They both nod. “The impostor is destroying the land,” says Kauko, frowning. “It rebels against her rule. Or perhaps she has found a way to cause the tremors—to stop us.”
I look up at these two men. They’ve both earned agonizing death several times over, and I dearly wish I could offer it to them now. I don’t want to believe a word they say, but something about this explanation makes sense. If this fraud does not have magic, she wouldn’t be affected the way true magic wielders are. Has she found a way to hold me back and defend her throne?
Was Sig her ally all along?
The memory of him and the other one, the big ice wielder, flashes in my mind. Sig had told me that the impostor queen had a powerful ice wielder at her side. Did the impostor send the two of them to destroy us? Was it her wielders who attacked our camp? She could not have landed a more devastating blow to our people.
Or maybe these two men are lying to me, just as they have in the past. Maybe they are using me, just as they have so many times before. But they are also offering me something—a target for my vengeance. “Jaspar, I’ll drink the broth.”
He grins and carefully holds the wineskin while Kauko slides his arm under my head to lift it. He is gentle and sure in his movements, as if he is accustomed to caring for people. “You must drink it all,” he says. “You will run dry if you don’t.” His breath is terrible. I’d obey him just to escape it.
Also, he’s right—I feel like a fallen leaf crisped by the sun. I drink slowly, and finally the old man takes the skin from Jaspar. “She will need solid food by tomorrow. Meat.”
“I’ll have Carina and Rask go hunting.” Jaspar pats his belly and gives me an apologetic look. “We’ve mostly been living off the edible plants this forest has to offer—it’s a good thing it’s so vast, for there are nearly two thousand of us with warriors and andeners combined. If Kauko hadn’t been with us, we all would have starved by now! But he was able to send a signal that drew many of his fellow exiled priests and apprentices back to his side, and they have kept us protected and fed.”
He pats the elder’s back and walks away, leaving me chained and helpless and staring up at the man who drank my blood. “I would kill you if I were strong enough,” I blurt out.
I didn’t mean to say that, and again he seems to read my chagrined expression, because he laughs. “Warrior Valtia,” he says, his tone one of approval. “You and I will reclaim Kupari from the impostor. My brothers in magic will help.”
I stare up at him, a war raging in my chest. This man is evil. And he is a liar. But he knows magic, and he knows Kupari. He knows this impostor who sits on the throne. I know none of those things. I don’t even know where our loyal warriors are—they might not even know Thyra is gone. They might have perished in the fire I created in my storm of grief. I am blind, and Kauko has eyes. He also, apparently, has allies who can help. And I will need that help if I am to avenge my love.
Despite all that, I crave his destruction. But . . . it is almost as if I can hear Thyra whispering in my ear. Control yourself, she says. For once. The memory of her rueful smile makes me grimace to keep from crying. Kauko clucks his concern and swipes a warm cloth across my face.
“You are the strongest Valtia who has ever lived,” he says quietly. “You have the power to punish the ones who destroyed her. I can help you. We want the same thing.”
I think this might be the first truth he has spoken. Our eyes meet. “I want to be the one who kills the impostor,” I say slowly.
He smiles. “You cannot kill her with magic. It has no power over her.”
“I can kill her with a dagger just as easily.”
“Yes,” he says. “We must cut through her wielders first.”
“They’re the ones who killed Thyra.”
“Yes. Sig. You were saying his name as you started to awake.”
“He betrayed us.”
“Because that is what he is. Remember he betrayed me first. After I had saved his life.” The old man’s softish face has taken on a hard look. “He and I will meet again.”
For some reason, I am relieved to hear that he wants to be the one to kill Sig. I still can’t believe what the fire wielder has done, and I want him dead, but . . . I remember what he taught me, how he and I were friends once. Or, at least, I had thought so. “Who was his ally?” I ask. “The dark ice wielder.”
“I do not know his name. But he and Sig are a pair. They are Suurin. Together they are nearly as powerful as the Valtia.” Kauko looks as if he has swallowed something bitter. “I do not know why they serve one so unworthy.”
“Who is this impostor?” I ask. “How does she have that much control over them if she has no magic?”
Kauko sinks down and settles himself next to my cot. “It is my fault. I nurtured this snake, and I should not be surprised it bit us.” He points to my calf, where my red flame mark rests beneath the covering of my stocking. “Your mark emerged the moment of the old Valtia’s death. Her name was Kaarin. She served well for many years, and we served her. She was succeeded by Sofia, another loyal and tireless queen. She gave her life protecting Kupari from Krigere.”
For a moment I can’t breathe. Sofia. The witch on the lake. She was the one I nearly touched. She was the one who killed all my people—and saved me. “And her magic is inside me now.”
“We thought it would pass to Elli. That is the impostor’s name. She has a mark as well, and we were so sure we had the right girl. Now I know how wrong we were.”
“What did you do when you realized she wasn’t the rightful heir to the magic?”
He looks anguished. “We tried to explain to her that we had been wrong! But she wouldn’t accept it. She said the throne was hers. When we refused to let her rule, she stole away to the outlands to recruit an army of wielders from the criminals who live there. Sig was among those she enticed, probably with promises of wealth and power. When they stormed the temple, we fought hard to protect it—and the young Saadella who is still captive there.”
My heart squeezes suddenly. “The Saadella.”
His eyes glint. “She will receive the magic when you die. In many ways, she is your daughter.”
Daughter. I look away. I cannot imagine it, yet as he says the words, I know he has spoken another truth. Unbidden, a part of my heart that I did not know existed steps into the sunlight and takes its first breath. “What is her name?” I ask quietly.
“Lahja,” he says. “She has hair exactly your color. Eyes exactly your color. A mark exactly the shape of yours—only hers is on her back. It hurts that I cannot protect her now.”
“Will they hurt her?”
“If the impostor decides Lahja is a threat to her claim on the throne, she might have done so already. And if that is the case, the magic will die with you. This cannot happen.”
“And if I die now?”
“The magic will enter her. But she is just a little girl, with no priests to train her.”
I think back to all the times this magic has hurt me. Burned me, frozen my skin, left me with scars. And I picture this tiny girl, a younger version of myself, suffering and screaming in pain. I suck in a deep breath, and for the first time since Thyra’s death, there’s a moment when I am grateful to still be alive.
“You look like a woman who lives for more than herself again.” Kauko pats my arm.
“You think we can regain the temple?” I ask. “What of the people of Kupari?”
“When you show them you are the true Valtia, they will rejoice,” Kauko says. “With priests by your side and magic at your fingertips, it will be easy to show that you belong on the throne. Though we may have to fight for the temple, the people will not stand in your way. They crave a queen who will take care of them.”
“But I . . . I have to take care of the Krigere first.”
Kauko bobs his head, sounding excited now. “Yes, you must. I understand this is your responsibility. Which is why I will help manage the temple. I did it for years.”
“But the Saadella is mine.” It comes out of me without thought or calculation. It is just a fact.
Kauko chuckles and holds up his hands. “I would expect nothing less. But perhaps you will agree she is safer in the temple than in the wilderness, assuming the temple still stands.”
If it does, I will take it apart brick by brick just to get to her. “She will be wherever I am.”
His hands fall to his lap. “I am your ally.”
My hatred of him doesn’t allow any room for trust. Sig told me Kauko drained the blood of the Valtias past, and that matches what the elder has done to me. But I also know the impostor queen is my enemy, and I have no hope of getting to her if I don’t have help. I am weak—and I could wander lost in the woods for months without even knowing how to find Kupari, let alone make it to the temple. “Tell me what you want of me.”
“I want you to heal. Then we will march on the city and save the land from the impostor. You can avenge your chieftain. You can save your Saadella. You can make a new home for your people. I can help you make all these things happen.”
“And in exchange?”
His expression goes soft and sad. “I am an old man. Older than I look. I merely want a safe haven for my priests now. I want the Temple on the Rock for my own. I want to see Kupari prosper as it did before the impostor attacked and destroyed my home.”
I care little for buildings. Before Vasterut I had never even seen shelters so huge—they felt like caves. Or cages. I prefer sleeping under stars. “Very well. You can have your temple.”
Kauko bows. “Allies.”
I stare at the top of his dark brown head. Thyra made me promise to take care of our people. This is what she would want, if it keeps our warriors safe and alive. And it is what I want, if it means avenging her death. “All right. Allies.”