The Impostor Queen (33 page)

“They're here for the same reason we are,” he says, tugging me forward, pushing through the crowd until we're in the center of the square. “They sense weakness.” His hatred vibrates up my arm as he watches the elder on the platform. I pull my hood lower as Aleksi's dark gaze sweeps over us, but Sig merely moves us a little closer.

The sound of a trumpet slices through the anxious muttering in the square, signaling the procession's departure from the Temple on the Rock. I look up at its greenish copper dome, which rises high above the buildings on either side of the northern road. She's coming. My heart pounds. Sig's fingers are firm and hot over my sleeve. The crowd lets out a cheer. Many shout their thanks to the stars. Their voices are cracking and desperate, a wail rather than a roar.

The little Saadella is carried into the square first, and I hear whispers of delight and relief from the people around us.
It's her. She's been found. Praise the stars.
As soon as I see her, there's a fierce, throbbing ache in my chest, and I have the strangest urge to shove my way over to her and take her in my arms. She can't be more than four or five, but she sits straight and stiff in her grand chair, borne high by her attendants, her tiny child's body clad in the same small, copper-and-red dress that I once wore. Her pale eyes are round and somber. She has a wide, smooth brow, and her little face is painted white, crimson lips and swirls of gleaming copper powder along her temples and eyelids. Her coils of coppery hair are pinned in place, and on her head rests the agate-studded circlet. I wonder if Mim stayed on as her handmaiden, coaching the little girl to remain absolutely still lest she crack her perfect exterior. I search for Mim in the entourage that follows the bearers into the square, hoping I don't burst into happy tears if I see her.

The Saadella's bearers carry her to the base of the steps. Today she will not be at the top with the Valtia, for this is the queen's day alone. The bearers set the little girl's paarit down, facing up the steps. I can see the top of her chair from where I stand, but she is hidden from me. I force down the desire to run forward, craving the sight of her. How fragile, how vulnerable she is, looking up at those Soturi envoys who stand not ten feet from her, their hands on their wicked broadswords. The girl-warrior stares at her with a startled sort of curiosity, but the others watch her with pure amusement in their eyes, and I know Sig is right. These barbarians are here to see for themselves whether we're strong enough to hold them back. And all around us, in the looted shops, the barren market, the muddy, rutted streets, and the hollow cheeks of our citizens, they have their answer.

My fist clenches and hope beats within my breast as I look toward the northern road, waiting for the new Valtia to appear. The acolytes and apprentices file into the square, taking up their places around the Saadella, facing north, their black-robed forms surrounding the platform. And then comes a new elder, one I remember as a priest—Eljas, the one who first whispered his doubt about me aloud in that chamber in the catacombs. As usual, Kauko must have stayed to preside over the temple, which makes Eljas the one in charge of the procession. His flat nose shines with perspiration and his blue eyes streak to the Soturi. From the platform, Aleksi's jowls quiver as he does the same.

They're
nervous
. My gut tightens as the trumpets herald the arrival of the queen. Her bearers come into view, turning as soon as they enter the square to mount the steps to the top of the platform. The priests and envoys have left a clear path. The Valtia's crown gleams in the dying light of the sun and with the flickering flames of the hundreds of torches that are being lit all around the square. The air fills with the scent of smoke. The people's cheers grow louder, more hopeful. They seem willing to forgive her for taking so long to accept the crown. The fires are reflected in Sig's eyes as he watches the whole spectacle.

The new Valtia sits ramrod straight, her pale fingers curled over the armrests of her grand chair, her high collar shielding her profile from the crowd. The skirt and sleeves of her dress shimmer as she's carried to the top of the platform, and her bearers turn her to face us.

My blood runs ice cold. Her white face is round and soft, and her crimson lips bear a familiar curve. The ceremonial makeup can't hide what lies beneath, not when I know the terrain of her face as well as my own. “No,” I whisper as I stare at her hair. The coppery locks have been plaited and coiled atop her head, elegant and shining.

But her hair shouldn't be that color.

It should be brown.

“Mim?” I mouth, my throat so tight that I can't make a sound. The sight of her face fills my hollow chest with want and regret, and my entire body calls out for her. My vision blurs with tears. Her eyes stare into the distance, absent of all the fondness and life that was there less than two months ago when she gave me the chance to live. When I told her I loved her. When I walked away and left her behind. Now her face is smooth, empty of expression. She looks at no one. Sees no one. The horror is eating me alive.

What have they done to her? Panic and confusion jitter along my bones.

Aleksi holds up a hand, and the crowd goes silent. “Today we crown a new queen to lead our people.” His mouth trembles for a moment like he's chewing over his next words. “As a gesture of goodwill and friendship, we welcome our friends from the north as witnesses. Chieftain Nisse”—he nods toward the broad-shouldered, blond-bearded warrior, who offers him a smirk in return—“and Chieftain Thyra”—he inclines his head toward the lean and stately young woman, who stands a little taller when her name is called—“and the other representatives of the Soturi people.”

A long, low hiss comes from somewhere in the crowd, which otherwise remains silent, perhaps unbelieving, as I am, that we are formally recognizing our enemies on this sacred day. So many things about this are desperately wrong.

Perhaps sensing the tension in the crowd, Aleksi quickly turns to Mim, who sits unmoving in her chair. “We acknowledge you as the bearer of the magic that protects our people.” His voice rises as he looks over his shoulder at the Soturi envoys. “We acknowledge you as the one who destroys our enemies and nurtures our land. We acknowledge you as our queen.” He strides toward her, and Eljas steps forward to meet him in front of her paarit.

Mim stares straight ahead, like she's not even aware of their presence.

Eljas lifts the crown from the cushion in Aleksi's arms. “From this day until your final breath, you will lead us,” he says in a high, brittle voice. “From this day until your final breath, you will protect and rule. From this day until your final breath, you are the Valtia!”

He places the crown upon her head and steps back, turning to the crowd with a wide smile. “We, the Kupari, can now celebrate our new queen!”

The crowd around us erupts, a wall of sound that can surely be heard for miles. Their relief is like a living thing. Sig whistles, and so do the magic wielders around me, but I can neither clap nor shout. All I can do is puzzle at the void in Mim's eyes, which used to glitter with energy and make my stomach swoop every time she looked at me.

Eljas leans forward and touches her elbow, and she rises abruptly from her grand chair. She stiffly raises her arms, revealing the cuff of Astia clamped over her right wrist. The torches around the square flare wildly, the flames lengthening and twisting in the air. The citizens scream with delight at her show of power. A few of them shake their fists at the Soturi, who frown as the fire stretches unnaturally long, rising like bars of gold, caging the barbarians in with us. The elders' gazes follow the arc of the flames as they dance and entwine above the square, creating a canopy of light.

Sig laughs, the sound molten and dangerous. “Stars, it's not coming from her,” he says in an unsteady voice. “Can you feel it, Elli?”

All I feel is hatred for the elders. They've done something to Mim. They've hurt her. I know it. They're putting on a show to impress the Soturi, but at the expense of the woman who nurtured me since we were both children—a woman I loved with all my heart. Her gaze is vacant yet somehow full of pain as she stands there, arms raised.
A puppet,
Sig had said. He was so, so right.

Sig steps forward as the fire twists above us, swirling into beautiful designs, making the people shriek with joy and the Soturi gape with shock. Sweat beading on his brow, he drags me past a few cheering men and women, and I grab his hand to pry it from my arm. He's bringing us perilously close to the priests and elders, who may have other things on their mind at the moment, but who would be happy to recapture me if they realize I'm right in front of them. “Sig, wait.”

His head swivels in my direction, his brown eyes glowing, his handsome face alight with glee. “She's an impostor,” he says with an unhinged laugh.

My fingers curl over the back of his hand just as his other jerks upward, his palm outstretched. The fire above us suddenly spirals high, forming a solid pillar of flame that nearly kisses the sky. Eljas and Aleksi's eyes go wide as they lose control of it. Mim's empty stare glows orange as her head tilts upward, following its path.

There's a wrenching tug within my chest as Sig clenches his fist and drops it like a hammer.

The column of fire arches over the platform and slams down—right on top of Mim.

I
'm nearly blinded as the inferno engulfs the platform. The square becomes a writhing mass of panic. We're shoved back and pushed to the ground. Sig is on top of me, his body drenched with sweat. I claw and kick, trying to rise, trying to see what's happening. We're going to be trampled.

Rough hands close around Sig's shoulders and yank him up. Jouni's hair is plastered to his cheeks, and his face is red. Sig leans against him, his eyes unfocused—just like Oskar's were after we encased our enemies in a block of ice. A sharp pain stabs through my stomach as I look up at the platform. The scream tears its way from my throat, joining with thousands of others. The Valtia's chair is a spiraling monster of flame and smoke as the elders on either side use their ice magic to suppress the fire. Aleksi looks untouched, but Eljas's face and hands are red and blistered. Jouni tugs me and Sig backward just as I move forward. “Mim,” I cry in a choked voice.

“Come on, girl,” Jouni snaps. “We have to get out of this square!”

“He killed Mim!” I shriek, trying to rip myself away. My Mim, who loved me, who gave me a life. Sig destroyed her. . . .

Jouni grabs the neck of my cloak and hauls me backward. “Shut up, you idiot! Do you want to be caught?”

Sig's magic wielders surround us, carrying us to the east, away from the holocaust on the platform. I catch glimpses and flashes, the blackened form on the throne, the crown lying discarded on the steps, the Saadella standing alone on her chair at the base of the platform, tears streaking through her white makeup, her pale-blue eyes wide with terror as she screams for her father. One of the acolytes grabs her and several others crowd around, shoving their way through panicked councilmen to get to the temple road.

The Soturi envoys are nowhere to be seen. They've probably fled, eager to report this catastrophe and marshal their invading force. I barely care. Right now my grief for Mim is too huge to allow fear for myself or our people a single thought. I struggle and cry as Jouni flings me over the back of a horse like a sack of grain. “The south road,” Sig says in a ragged voice as he slumps against Tuuli. “I know how to get out.”

Jouni mounts the horse, cramming his knees against my chest and thighs, pressing his hand against my back. I grab the edge of the saddle and try to kick at him, but when the horse begins to trot, it's all I can do to breathe. Mud from the road spatters my face, and I'm buffeted by shoulders and waving arms as the magic wielders kick their horses' flanks and flee the chaos. We're a river of bodies, horses, carts, screeching women, and crying children. In all the panic, no one gives me, a girl slung like cargo over the back of a horse, a second look.

“The Valtia's magic turned on her!” cries one man as he tries to push his way into a cottage, hopefully his own. “The stars have cursed us!”

The farther we ride, the more I hear this lament.
The stars have cursed us. The Valtia is destroyed. The Soturi will come now. We have no protection.

Our path grows dark as Sig directs Tuuli down a series of alleys. Finally the road dead-ends at a crumbling, ancient gate, barred with green copper. A massive lock hangs from the latch. Sig slides clumsily from Tuuli's horse and pulls two metal picks from his pocket.

A moment later Usko and Mikko shove the gate open, its worn wood scraping against a stone lip and then swinging over rotten leaves. The wielders guide their horses through and then push the gate closed again. We're outside the city, within a dense copse of trees. “What in stars just happened, Sig?” Usko shouts. “You gave us no warning.”