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Authors: Sarah Fine

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BOOK: The Impostor Queen
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“Usko, Veikko, Aira, Tuuli, and a few others from the caverns. You shouldn't worry about him, Elli.” Raimo's tone is full of bleak warning.

I turn away from him. I don't want him to see my face. It would feel too much like opening my chest and letting him look at my heart. My hand slips into my pocket and clutches the wooden dove I always carry with me—a new one that he made just after Raimo healed his broken arm . . . and right before he left for the outlands.

Raimo lets out an exasperated sigh. “You're wasting your energy. Oskar is big and strong and well able to protect himself, even without magic. He's known in the outlands—and respected by wielders and nonwielders alike. Truly, you couldn't have a better recruiter for the magical branch of this army you're raising.”

“How many do we have so far?”

“Oskar didn't say. But he seems determined to dredge up anyone who can do so much as light a candle or freeze a puddle, so long as they do it with magic and are willing to train and work together.”

“It's not enough, Raimo.”

He grips his walking stick a little tighter. “We won't be relying on wielders alone. You're doing good work, Elli.” He cackles. “I daresay those councilmen were shocked when you walked into that first meeting.”

I smile in spite of myself. Their wide eyes and slack jaws were comical. But their fear of my power made them listen. The Kupari have grown dependent on magic, and Sig was right—they exchanged freedom and responsibility for security. The first thing I told them was that we would have no magical warmth this winter, but the temple food stores would be distributed to the people. I explained that we needed to focus our attention on the Soturi and face them as a people. Not everyone is pleased. I'm sure I have enemies. I've more or less told them that the temple will provide—but now it's time for
everyone
to stand up. Now we need every arm and every mind. We have magic, but it's not all we are. It can't be, because the copper that created us has been pulled from the earth, drained like the acolytes' blood. Once it's gone, our power might leave us too.

Many have stepped forward to offer themselves. “We have five hundred men in our nonmagical forces so far, and the smiths believe they can forge weapons for up to a thousand before the thaw. We have another three hundred women and men who have volunteered as archers. A few of the hunters are working as bowyers, and Topias thinks we'll have enough for every recruit. But—”

“Will our soldiers even know what to do with them?” Raimo asks, completing my thought. In comparison with the Soturi horde, our forces are paltry and ill-prepared. Yes, Sofia decimated the Soturi navy, but as one of the cave dwellers pointed out, that was only part of their might. We're so vulnerable, but we have one thing they don't. When the time comes, I'll face the enemy at the front with our army, alongside Oskar and his wielders.

I'll be his shield. He'll be my sword.

But we needed Sig, the Fire Suurin. We needed the cuff of Astia. We need a Valtia. We need a well-trained army. The odds rise high, looming over me like a mighty wave about to break.

I lift my head and straighten my shoulders. “Thank you, Raimo.”

His gnarled fingers close over my upper arm. “I'll be on the platform at the coronation. It's going to be fine. No one will know. And you won't be alone.”

His shuffling footsteps signal his exit. “Then why do I feel that way?” I whisper. I walk over to the copper mirror and sink into the chair. I stare at my reflection, then close my eyes.
You were born for this,
Mim whispers as a lump forms in my throat. I can almost feel her soft hands on my shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Mim,” I whisper. “I'll never forgive myself for leaving you behind.”

When I open my eyes, I swear I see her shadow in the mirror, brown curls, soft smile.
I'm proud to serve you. Elli, you will always be my queen.

“You're in my heart,” I say in a choked voice. “And you'll always be safe there.”

“What's that?” Helka asks as she bustles into the room, her grayish-blond hair braided and coiled at the base of her neck.

“Nothing.” I smooth my hands over my face and blink away unshed tears. “I'm ready.”

She begins to brush and braid my hair, and I sit up straight and still. I've come to believe that the ceremonial makeup was just another way for the elders to silence the Valtia, to imprison her in a mask of beauty, but the changes I plan must come little by little. Today I will wear it, because the Kupari are just learning how to stand on their feet and test their own power, and they need a symbol to give them confidence until they have enough of their own.

For as long as they need me, that's what I'll be.

The coronation was a success. The people cheered. The constables were able to recruit several dozen young men and women for our new army. The sight of me in full regalia inspired their patriotism, and I'm glad—we all have a part to play in our own salvation. Lahja smiled and waved, lifting spirits high. When Raimo made the torches flare and twist, she pressed her head against my chest but didn't scream.

My limbs are leaden as I step from the tub and let Helka dry me off. She's done this dance so many times, which is why I asked her to return to the temple as my handmaiden. She brushes my hair and plaits it loosely. I can tell by the solid slowness of her movements that she's thinking of Sofia, all the days they shared together—so many but not nearly enough. Her dimpled chin trembles as she lowers my gown over my head, and I sigh as it slips over my body and falls to my ankles, soft and comforting. “Is Lahja awake? I promised to play with her.”

Helka lets out a sniffly chuckle. “When I went down to make sure her dress was properly packed away, Janeka told me she was already sleeping. Today tired her out.”

I swallow back my disappointment. The warm weight of her body soothes me, gives me purpose . . . and beats back the loneliness, for a few moments at least. “I see.”

She strokes my arm. “
My
Valtia—Sofia—she loved you like you love that little girl. You were Lahja's age when you came here. Sofia hated not seeing you. But she made sure we gave her reports of your activities every single day.”

My face crumples with the grief of lost years. The elders kept us apart. Another part of their scheme to break the Valtia's will, to bend her to their desires, all under the guise of keeping her strong and pure in her magic. And because she had dedicated her life to being all the Kupari needed, she complied. But it hurt both of us, and I won't let that happen with Lahja. “Things are different now. I'll see her tomorrow.”

Helka smiles. “I'm glad, my Valtia,” she says hoarsely. She smooths back a tendril of blond-gray hair from her wrinkled forehead. “Do you need anything else?”

I shake my head. “Thank you,” I murmur. “Have a good night.”

The emptiness in my chest yawns wide and numb as I pull open the doors to my balcony and step into the night air. We have a month of winter left at the most. The icy wind swirls about me, sending shivers from the top of my head to the soles of my bare feet. The moon hangs high in the darkness, shining down on the fissured white face of the Motherlake. The stars twinkle, mysterious and silent, carving out our future in the ebony expanse.

My fingers curl over the marble railing, and I close my eyes, letting the icy breeze skim over my face, pretending it's Oskar's magic instead. It slips along my neck and under the edge of my gown, giving me goose bumps. “I miss you,” I breathe.

I'm queen now. I can't be loved by one. And especially not the Ice Suurin. Raimo's warning is never that far from my thoughts. But neither is Oskar himself.

“I miss you, too,” the cool wind whispers.

I whirl, my heart lurching into my throat. Oskar stands at the far side of the balcony. He steps from the shadows, his thick cloak hanging from his shoulders, his footfalls silent despite his size. His hair is loose around his shoulders, and he hasn't shaved in at least a week. He smells like earth and horse and smoke, the knees of his trousers are smudged with grime, and his boots are crusted with mud.

He's never looked better.

“I thought you were in the outlands.”

He runs his hand over a smear of dirt on his cloak. I don't miss his shiver as the wind tosses our hair. “I was. And tomorrow we're riding to the western shore where it meets the Loputon. There have been reports of fires in the sky.”

I frown. “More wielders?” Someone powerful enough to send fire above the high hills on the coast. “Do you think it could be her?” Oskar's not just looking for recruits—he's looking for our Valtia. We might be taking steps to save ourselves, but we need her more than ever.

He shrugs. “No way of knowing until we get there. We can always hope.”

“Be careful,” I blurt out. “It could be the escaped priests. Or—Kauko probably has Sig, and—”

“Raimo told me.” His eyes glint with the ice inside. “I have no intention of letting the blood drinker have another Suurin. But I won't abandon Sig either. If he's there, I'm going to get him back.” He looks so fierce that it's easy to believe.

I reach up and run the backs of my fingers along his rough, chilled cheek. “Why did you come?”

He arches his eyebrow. “Do you really need to ask?”

I grin. “How did you get in here?”

“During your coronation. It wasn't difficult. We need to talk to Raimo about guards for your wing and Lahja's.” His eyes linger on mine. He's worried but trying not to say it.

My mouth twitches as I fight a smile. “So you've been shivering out here on my balcony the whole time my handmaiden undressed and bathed me?”

He clears his throat. “Well. As eager as I was to see you, I thought it best not to poke my head in while you were . . .”

“It's nothing you haven't seen before.” Along with nearly everyone in the temple. What I wouldn't give for a fireproof gown.

He rubs his hand over his scruffy face. “Would you forgive me if I told you the memory of it kept me warm while I waited?”

There it is, that tug low in my belly. It only gets worse as his gaze slides from my bare feet up to my face, not missing so much as an inch in between. “I would.”

He reaches for my right hand, the scarred one that is now tingling painfully from the cold, and draws me toward him, kissing each knuckle. “And I wasn't just spending my time lost in thoughts of you.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I was practicing.”

He turns my palm upward. As we stare at it, crystals of ice burst from nothing and cluster in the air. They dance and swirl as they spiral downward, collecting on my hand and entwining until they form an eight-pointed star. One of the points is rounded and another juts out long and sharp, but neither flaw decreases my awe of it—and him.

“My control is getting better,” he says quietly, picking up the star and examining it. He holds it close and blows frosty air from between his lips, and the star disintegrates into a glitter of ice dust. “Sometimes small magic is the most difficult.”

I lay my palm on his cheek. “Does it feel all right?”

He bows his head. “I'm ashamed that I avoided it for so long.”

But he had every reason to be scared, and I understand it completely. “You should be proud of what you're doing now.” I smile up at him. “I have something to show you, too.”

His eyebrow arches. “By all means.”

I focus on our connection, my skin against his, and imagine reaching through it, plunging my hand into the endless sea of ice inside him. Shivering, I stretch out my other arm, palm up. My eyes squeeze shut and sweat beads at my temple, but when I hear Oskar gasp, I know I've done it. I open my eyes to see the lump of melting snow on my palm, and my jittery laugh fogs the night. “Raimo has been letting me practice on him.”

Oskar rubs his chest. “I could feel you . . . inside.”

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I told you I was yours to wield.”

And that's probably why I was able to do it. Raimo says it will take more work to pull magic from a wielder who's resisting me, but even this has nearly exhausted me. I lean into Oskar, and my thumb strokes along the dark scruff on his jaw. “How are Maarika and Freya?”

He smiles. “They're well, but Freya still hasn't forgiven me for not letting her join the army. I told her I was just following your orders. You
are
the queen, after all.” His amusement slips away as he gazes down at me. “You looked lovely in the square, so regal.” His fingertips slide down my cheek, and his icy magic tingles along my skin, swirling inside my chest. “But you look a thousand times more beautiful now.”

“Because I'm just Elli,” I murmur.

He slides his arm around my back. “And you understand that is more than enough.”

BOOK: The Impostor Queen
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