Elli
When I wake, I’m clothed in white, and I am on a straw bed that whispers as I shift my weight. I seem to be inside a tent, and I can hear others bustling about outside. Ansa is lying next to me, in a clean tunic and breeches. Her eyes are open.
Neither of us appears to be dead.
I start as Raimo leans over me, the scraggly ends of his beard swishing against my chest. “You can heal each other,” he says, looking back and forth between us. “But you must decide. Either both of you stay, or both of you go. It will take the two of you to bring each other back to life.”
I close my eyes. In my dream, I was with Oskar again, in our cottage by the lake. His boots were in front of the fire, and our bed was warm.
“How much do you miss him?” Ansa asks.
I turn my head and look at her, and in her eyes I see the question. “As much as you miss Thyra, I expect.”
We stare at each other. My throat goes tight. “I know there is much work to do here,” I say. “But if you want to—”
She inhales and then winces with pain. Her skin is like frost in the square, a mix of gray and white. “Do you want to?”
Yes. And no. And—“Lahja.”
Ansa sighs. “I know.”
If we die, she will be the Valtia, long before she is ready.
I can’t tell what Ansa really wants. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stay. I reach over and take Ansa’s hand. Her fingers thread with mine. Our connection is forged instantly and easily, a path well-worn. Now we are more than shared magic. We are a shared being.
I feel her longing for Thyra, and I am aware of her pain as she feels my craving for Oskar. If we stay, this pain will always be with us.
If we stay, we can bear it together.
Ansa squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“Is it all right if I’m not?” she replies.
I chuckle, weak and pained. But then I grow serious. “There is much work to be done. A city to be rebuilt.”
“A people to shelter.”
I nod. “And feed.”
“And keep warm when the cold comes.”
“A Saadella to raise.”
“That would be the fun part,” she says.
I hold her hand tightly, knowing that if I let go, the darkness will come again. “You can’t leave me.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I won’t. But you can’t leave me, either.”
“All right.”
The healing is like breathing. It comes over us that naturally. I feel every part of her body as if it were my own, and I know what it needs. The fire and ice are like eager children, desperate to please, happy to cause a smile. The magic does our bidding without demanding our conscious thoughts. We lie there and share memories while we grow stronger with each minute. We share our hopes, too. For lives without fear or servitude. For peace and plenty.
The Suurin made sure that our land was restored. They gave their lives in exchange for the health of the earth, the future of our people.
The understanding hits me hard—if I had left, it would have been a betrayal of Oskar and everything he sacrificed. He is gone, but I can live for him and take care of what he left behind.
“I know,” Ansa says again. “We will.”
She understands the same thing about Thyra. Her responsibility to the warriors her chieftain left behind extends beyond their mere survival in this battle.
“We’ll make sure of it,” I say.
Together, we rise from the table. I let go of her hand and I am myself once more, strong as I ever was. Ansa stands straight, her shoulders square. Raimo grins from our bedside. “Well done.”
I frown. “Why didn’t you just heal us?”
“Oh, I could have.”
“But you risked us choosing to die!”
“No need to be dramatic. I knew you’d make the right choice.”
“Why, did you find another prophecy?”
He shakes his head and leans on his walking stick. A warm wind blows through the trees. “I had faith in your will, Elli.” He nods at Ansa. “And in hers.”
Ansa smiles. It is not an easy smile. It is hard won, with an edge of sadness.
We leave our tent. We are in the white plaza, the waves of the Motherlake lapping at the shore beyond. A few yards away is the scar that marks the place where Oskar and Sig saved us with their lives. Ansa’s hand slips into mine again, offering me the steadiness I need.
“Elli,” shrieks a familiar piping voice. From across the plaza, Lahja comes running, with Maarika and Freya jogging after her. Janeka and Helka stand behind them with the surviving temple wielders, looking worn and weary but alive, alive, alive.
Our Saadella jumps into my arms, and I turn to allow Ansa to join in our embrace. She does, and we are a knot of love and relief. Lahja puts an arm around each of our necks and kisses us each on the cheek. “You did it.”
All around us, people are dropping to their knees, and that is when I realize that Kupari are not the only ones here. Bertel, his gray friend, and a host of other warriors have been helping Livius and his stone crews stack building stones in neat rows. But now they are all kneeling before us.
“Rise, please,” I call out, because it seems silly for everyone to stop what they’re doing simply because we got out of bed.
Ansa chuckles as she listens to my thought, then she shouts something in Krigere. Her warriors rise with an answering call, and in her mind I understand what it is.
Blood and victory.
Will you change that now? I ask her.
No. It is who we are. I just don’t know what that means yet.
Fair enough. We all have some things to figure out.
Lahja is wiggling between us, and Raimo is staring as if he knows we are having a conversation inside our own heads. “The town council requests the honor of your attendance at their next meeting,” he says.
“Ansa and I will decide later,” I tell him as we put Lajha down. Bertel and the gray one—
“His name is Preben,” Ansa interjects.
Bertel and Preben are coming over to us. They kneel before Ansa again, and as they speak, I realize I can understand them because I am touching her.
With his head bowed, Bertel hands Ansa a dagger. “You may kill me now. I betrayed you.”
“In his defense,” Preben says, even though his head is bowed too, “he was told that if he didn’t give the signal, twenty of Thyra’s warriors would be executed. Me included.”
“You redeemed yourself in the wood,” Ansa says. “When you protected Elli and made it possible for her to help me.”
“We will serve you for the rest of our days,” says Bertel.
“Serve me by gathering a group to go fetch your andeners and children,” says Ansa.
The two men rise, smiling, and nod respectfully at me as they walk toward a group of other warriors.
“She would have been happy to see this day,” Ansa says. “She would have been so happy.”
My throat is tight with Ansa’s grief. “She would have. Oskar would have been too.”
“Will we ever be whole without them?” she whispers.
“I don’t know. But together we can live every day, striving to honor their memories, and their sacrifices.”
Ansa takes a deep breath as Lahja leans her head against her side. “I don’t know anything about ruling.”
“Good thing there’s two of us,” I say.
“Three,” says Lahja.
Ansa laughs, and it is a welcome sound. Her gaze falls on Maarika and Freya, then on Raimo, then on her warriors, and on Livius and his stone crew, and then on me. Her smile is beyond words and beyond thought—it is something I feel in my marrow, in my soul. We will take this moment, and we will live in it, and every one that follows. We will carry each other through each breath. We understand our path will not always be smooth, but we also understand that the one that brought us here was impossible, and yet here we stand. We are two girls atop two nations; we are one new and unfathomable thing together. We are unstoppable and sovereign. We are willing to die for our people, and for each other, and for the little girl who is our future.
We are the true queen.