The Impostor Queen

by Sarah Fine

  A high, quavering scream pierces the morning, followed by several others. Oskar’s shoulders go stiff, and then he shoves off, sprinting full speed over the hill toward the noise. I follow after him, running as fast as I can, but by the time I reach the crest of the hill, he’s headed straight for the edge of the drop-off.

  “Oskar!” I shriek, but a burst of fire spirals up from the opening to the cavern, and he speeds up, his long legs destroying the distance.

  He doesn’t slow down as he reaches the drop-off—he leaps into open space and disappears from sight. It takes me another few seconds, filled with screams and shouts and smoke, to reach the edge.

  What I see makes me choke with dread. Two women lie burned at the cavern entrance, their faces black, their hair and clothes singed away. Oskar, who somehow managed to make the twenty-foot drop without hurting himself, is standing with his arms spread in front of them, hatred flashing in his eyes.

  Facing him are a dozen constables from the city, in matching brown caps and red cloaks, clubs at their belts. But they’re hanging back. They’re not in charge. Because standing in front of them are five priests—including Elder Leevi. He points a skeletal finger up at Oskar, who stands head and shoulders taller. “We have every right to search these caves,” Leevi says, his thin, reedy voice at odds with his threatening posture.

  “You have no right,” Oskar roars. “We’re not within the walls of your city, and you’ve attacked a cavern full of women and children!”

  “These two,” Leevi says as he wags his finger at the women lying burned on the ground, “were unauthorized magic wielders. They attacked us.”

  Oskar’s face twists with rage. “Because you invaded their home!”

  I drop to my knees, my fingers clutching the slippery hunks of grass at the edge of the drop-off. Either there is no Valtia and the elders worked together to create this heat themselves, or she’s on the throne and sent them here. Either way, they picked the perfect strategy to make their travel easy and to draw the men away from the cavern, eager to hunt and fish on an unseasonably warm day. Anger knots inside me—and confusion pulls it tight as I spot Harri, his dark curls shining in the morning sunlight, standing among the constables. He’s very still, like he hopes Oskar won’t notice him.

  “We’ll clear out in the spring,” Oskar says. “Tell the miners they’re welcome to the copper in these caves once the thaw comes.”

  “That’s quite a promise, coming from a pack of thieving murderers, but that’s not why we’re here today. We merely want to take a look at the young ladies,” Leevi says with a smile, just as two more priests jog out of the cave, giving Oskar a wide berth.

  “They’re walled up in a small cavern at the back,” one of them says. “At least one is a fire wielder.”

  Oskar pales, and I know he’s thinking of Aira and Freya.

  “We’ll capture the unauthorized wielders and take them back to the temple after we find who we’re looking for.” Leevi turns to Harri. “Would you know her by sight?”

  Harri’s gaze darts to Oskar, whose eyes go wide with the realization that the black-haired pickpocket is working with the priests. “I would,” Harri says.

  Oskar stares at him. “What are you doing, Harri?”

  Leevi pats Harri on the shoulder as he speaks to Oskar. “We don’t have to do this with violence. We seek only girls with copper hair and ice-blue eyes.”

  “I assure you, the new Saadella is not here,” snarls Oskar. “None of our little girls have hair that color.” He nails Harri with his stony gaze. “And you know that.”

  Leevi steeples his fingers beneath his chin. His thick red eyebrows rise. “Ah, but we do not just seek the little Saadella. We are also searching for our new Valtia, a young woman sixteen years of age.”

  Oskar’s brow furrows, and Leevi looks pleased. “You see,” the elder says, “we’re in a desperate situation. When the previous Valtia died so tragically while averting the Soturi invasion, the new Valtia went mad with grief. She ran away, and we’re worried not only for her safety, but for anyone she comes into contact with. After searching every alley and cottage in the city for her, we suspected she’d fled to the outlands. So we combed all the homesteads on the peninsula for her and had begun to wonder if she’d managed to leave Kupari altogether—until this young man bravely came forward to let us know she was here. If you care about those women and children, you’ll let us look at each of them, to see if our lost Valtia is among them, as we suspect she is. Copper hair and ice-blue eyes. She might have sought refuge here sometime in the past six weeks or so. Hmm?”

  Leevi’s words seem to hit Oskar like a blast of icy air. He blinks and steps back. And then his gaze darts up to mine, full of questions, before he tears it away. Harri doesn’t miss it. He turns and sees me perched at the edge of the drop-off. No, I think. Please don’t.

  “There she is!” he shouts, his voice cracking, his finger jabbing at me.

  Leevi’s blue-eyed gaze streaks right up the rocks until it lands on me. His mouth drops open. “It’s her,” he screeches.

  I shoot to my feet, every shred of my body thrumming with fear.

  My boot slips in the melting snow and my arms reel. All around me, I have the sense of fire, of freezing air, of violent wind. But it’s the slippery grass that does it.

  I fall to the sound of Oskar shouting my name.

  CHAPTER 17

  I grab at the air, begging it to grasp my flapping hands and hold me high.

  If I were the Valtia, I could use my magic to slow my fall. I could summon a hot wind to carry me. I could ask the ice to rise up and catch me.

  But I’m the Astia. And that makes me helpless.

  I land with a huff—but not on the ground. Oskar’s arms close around me, and he falls to his knees still holding me tight. I gasp, knocked breathless by the impact as Oskar’s forehead leans against my cheek. His body is between me and the priests, who are firing blasts of ice and fire at us with all the power they possess.

  And Oskar is taking all of it. His face is a mask of agony as a blast of fire slams into his back. His chest shudders and he groans from between clenched teeth.

  I don’t feel the fire, but the sight of Oskar’s pain causes molten rage to well up inside me and overflow. I look over his shoulder, right at Leevi, and see the tight, bitter determination on the elder’s face as he and his priests close in, their palms outstretched, trying to destroy Oskar so they can get to me. I will kill you for this, I think as the elder sends a blast of ice at him.

  My hands tangle in Oskar’s hair as the ice collides with his broad back. “Give it to me,” I whisper as he lets out a choked, shuddering whimper. I press my face to his neck. He shivers.

  And then he gets to his feet. His eyes are still closed. It’s like he’s retreated inside himself just to survive—but his grip on my body is desperate and unrelenting as he pours excess ice magic through the places where our skin touches.

  One of the priests reaches toward the large central fire in the cave, and the flames leap toward him like a trained animal. His eyes glow as he flings them at us.

  My fingers curl tight against Oskar’s scalp as I watch the inferno coming. My eyes narrow and my lips pull back from my gritted teeth. No, you won’t touch him.

  A wave of cold rolls across Oskar’s skin. He pivots sharply, his eyes opening, his body pulsing with power. “Enough!” he roars, and, still holding me against him, flings his other arm outward. His fingers spread wide and then close into a fist.

  My whole world spins as a strange pulling sensation fills my chest. Ice and snow swirl in the air, drawn from everywhere—the ground around us, the hill, the drop-off, the melting crystals on the grass. There is a deafening boom, and Oskar collapses. He lands on top of me as my back smashes into stones.

  We’re surrounded by silence. The priests have stopped their attack.

  Oskar slowly raises his head from my chest. He’s shaking, his breath fogging in front of his face. His lashes and
hair are covered with rapidly melting ice crystals—but his forehead and cheeks are beaded with sweat. With a stab of horror, I remember Sofia dying in front of me, parts of her freezing while others burned.

  “Elli?” he says, his voice laced with pain. “What—wh-what—”

  I lay my palms on his frigid cheeks, trying to drain away the magic that’s hurting him. “Are you all right?”

  He blinks. “I d-don’t know.” His big body is on mine, his muscles are twitching.

  “Oy!” shouts a voice I recognize as Jouni’s. Boots slide in rocky terrain nearby. “What in the stars above?” His exclamation is followed by several others, full of puzzlement and fear.

  Oskar rears back on his knees as if he’s just remembered the threat, his arms rising to defend us. But then he goes stiff. Several of the cavern men have run down the trail, probably alarmed by the noise, and are pressed against the steep incline of the drop-off, staring in awe.

  Before us is a scene of devastation, a moment literally frozen in time. Starting a few yards from where we sit and ending at the mouth of the cavern is an enormous, crystalline block of ice. It’s the size of a large building, and within it are encased the constables, the priests, Harri the traitor, and Leevi. Many of them are suspended several feet above the ground, as if they were being thrown through the air when the ice hit. Their arms are spread wide as if to stop the onslaught. Their eyes are round with the horror of it but cloudy with their sudden deaths. Their mouths are gaping, held open by the unforgiving ice that has flowed down their throats, up their noses, into their ears. The sun shines down on all of it, adding a merry twinkle to the ghastly, transparent coffin.

  Jouni whistles and yanks off his cap, running his hand through his messy reddish-blond hair. “Oskar. Did you . . . ?” He tears his gaze from the scene and turns to us. Then his jaw goes slack, like he’s been hit over the head.

  Oskar looks over his shoulder at me when he registers Jouni’s shock. “Oh, stars, Elli, you—you’re—”

  That’s when I realize I’m naked. I may be immune to magic, but my clothes aren’t. All that remains of my gown and stockings are smears of ash. My boots are lumps of charcoal that crumble as I wiggle my toes. Oskar yanks off his fur cloak, which is blackened and full of large holes. He leans forward to spread it over me.

  “Wait.” Jouni grabs Oskar’s wrist before he can cover my legs. “What’s that?”

  He points at my blood-flame mark, stark crimson on my pale, goose-bumped leg.

  Oskar tears his arm away and covers me. “The priests and constables attacked the women,” he says to Jouni. “Go make sure they’re safe.”

  Jouni’s eyes trace over my copper hair and focus on my ice-blue eyes. “Is that mark what I think it is? Did those priests come here looking for you? I’ve heard—”

  “Jouni,” Oskar snaps. “Now is not the time.”

  “But I heard rumors that the Valtia had gone mad and run away! Did Elli do that?” Jouni points to the mountain of ice before us. The others are edging around it, staring at the terrified faces of the men entombed there. “I’ve never seen ice magic like that before.”

  Oskar gives me a sidelong glance. “No. I did it.”

  Jouni laughs. “Sig told me you were a wielder, but this kind of thing would have required—”

  “Stop arguing and go see if the others are all right!” Oskar’s voice breaks as he sinks unsteadily to the ground, his teeth chattering. His back is covered in blistered patches I can see through the ragged, singed holes in his tunic. The ice inside him must have made him cold enough that his clothes endured the attack better than mine did, but he’s still injured.

  I sit up, clutching his burned cloak over my chest and curling my legs against my body. I want to touch him so badly that my fingers ache. But Jouni is still standing over us, his gaze on me. “Harri mentioned that the priests were offering a reward for anyone who helped find her. And then he brought them here.”

  “I’m not the Valtia,” I say quietly. Oskar gives me a sharp, searching look. “I’m not.”

  Jouni stares at me for a moment longer before scratching a spot on his stubbly cheek and turning to the ice tomb in front of us. “Right.” He walks toward the cavern entrance, his shoulders tense.

  My hands are on Oskar’s neck in the next moment, because I can’t hold back anymore. He sighs and leans into my touch, but then abruptly wrenches himself away, ending up on his hands and knees. “I don’t need your help,” he growls, getting up clumsily, his muscular arms swinging at his sides.

  “Oskar.” His name is a plea on my lips. Does he blame me for this?

  He stops with his back to me. “Now that he’s gone, tell me the truth.”

  “I’m not the Valtia. I swear.” I rise, pulling his cloak around my naked body. The rocks dig into the soles of my feet.

  “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. Explain your eyes. Your hair. Your mark. Your ability to withstand magic. And then explain that.” He points to the ice tomb.

  “You did that,” I murmur.

  Oskar looks over his shoulder at me. “I might have ice magic inside me. A lot of it. I might even be a Suurin.” His jaw clenches as he jabs his finger at the ice. “But I have never done anything like that.”

  “You know I don’t have magic.” But now I’m remembering what Raimo said, about how I could not only mute and absorb magic—I could also magnify and project it, as the Valtia does when she wears the cuff of Astia. I blink at the frozen dead men within the ice, and the weight of their vacant stares nearly bows my back. Oskar didn’t do this—not alone, at least. He worked the magic, but maybe I was the weapon, projecting it, turning it into a devastating force that destroyed anything in its way. If it’s true, then together we’ve just killed twenty men. My stomach turns. This is exactly the reason Oskar didn’t want the magic inside him. He never wanted to take another life.

  Oskar’s granite gaze is crushing me. “I only know what you’ve told me, Elli, and you’ve told me very little.”

  “Raimo told me not to,” I say, my throat getting tight. “He said my life depended on it.”

  Oskar closes the distance between us and takes me by the shoulders. “You bear all the marks of the Valtia,” he whispers. “And she has magic so balanced that it wouldn’t be that difficult to hide it, not if she wanted to. She might even look immune to it, as you do, because she could counteract even the strongest magic with her own.”

  “Maybe, but Raimo still would have been able to heal me if I were the Valtia. Do you truly think I wouldn’t have accepted that gift if I could have?”

  “If you were desperate enough to hide, perhaps.”

  I nearly kick him in my frustration. “Explain how I siphon your power, then! Not even the Valtia can do that!”

  “Then tell me what you are!”

  I flinch as his grip tightens, knowing I can’t escape this truth anymore. “Raimo said I was the Astia.”

  His eyes narrow. “What? Like the cuff of—”

  “Yes. It’s why I can absorb your magic without being hurt by it—and why, together, we can . . .” My eyes stray to the ice tomb.

  Oskar’s looking at it too. “Did you know that would happen?”

  “I had no idea. Oskar, please believe me,” I squeak. “I was the Saadella, but when the Valtia died, the magic didn’t come.” I briefly tell him of my escape, and the whole time he watches me, dumbstruck.

  “Why were they trying to kill you? Wait—are they the ones who whipped you?” Before I can stop him, he lifts his cloak from my shoulder and peers at my bare back, then curses. “Why?” he asks, that one word infused with cold rage.

  “I let them whip me when I thought it would draw out the magic. And they thought that by killing me, they could awaken the magic in a new Valtia. They most likely still think that.”

  “Do they know you’re this . . . Astia person?”

  Who isn’t even supposed to exist. I shake my head. “But Raimo did. I think he must have been a prie
st at some point. He told me I could do these things the night you brought me to him, but he never said how. Siphoning your magic—it just happens. And I don’t know how I helped you project your magic just now, only that we were touching when it happened. But I do know that Raimo warned me to keep it secret. He said any magic wielder would see me as an enemy—or a weapon, something to use to enhance their power.”

  Oskar’s gaze drops to where his fingers are curled around my bare arms, which are tingling with the aftershocks of his magic, and he quickly lets me go. Maarika comes sprinting out of the cavern before either of us have a chance to speak again, her usually neat brown hair flying around her face. “Oskar!” she shrieks.

  He whirls around to catch her in his arms, but staggers back as she collides with him. “You’re hurt,” she cries, clutching at his singed, holey tunic. “Oh, stars.” Her voice is thick with tears.

  “I’ll be all right,” he says softly.

  Freya is standing several feet away, staring at the ice. “Oskar . . . ?”

  Oskar pries his mother’s hands from his arms. “I did it. Elli saw the whole thing.” He turns back to look at me, his face smooth and expressionless. “Come into the cavern. We need to get you some clothes before you catch a chill.”

  Maarika looks me over, her brows rising. “What happened to her dress and boots?”

  Oskar inclines his head toward the frozen priests. “They were burned off as the priests attacked. I used my magic to do what I could to protect her.”

  Maarika looks at me, and then up at her son. “Then I’m glad you froze them,” she says, her jaw set. “They deserved that and more.”

  She holds her arm out, and my eyes sting as I step forward and it settles around my shoulders, pulling me close. Her other arm is around Oskar’s waist. Then Freya appears on my other side, her skinny fingers burrowing into the holes in the cloak. I don’t feel worthy of this, but there’s no way I’ll refuse it. Maarika was right—they are my family now, mine to love and protect. Their acceptance warms my body in a way fire magic never could.