The Impostor Queen

by Sarah Fine

  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.”

  “I do.” About this, there’s no doubt, but somehow it only makes this time more fragile, a treasure I’m not supposed to have.

  His lips are cool and mine are hot. I gasp as he cups the back of my head and pulls me in. It’s the delicious rub of ice and fire, hard and soft. His scruff scrapes my face, and I lunge onto my tiptoes. I want to look in the mirror tomorrow and see my own swollen lips, the raw pinkness of my cheeks and chin. I want to know this was real, more than the memory of his hard-muscled body against mine, more than the recollection of his handsome face, more than the echo of his voice in my head.

  His magic fills my hollow chest, roaring and fierce, pure, icy power. But his hands are almost warm as they caress my flushed skin. His silky hair tickles my cheeks and brow as he draws back, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Stars, if we don’t stop, I won’t be able to leave,” he says between breaths. His forehead touches mine, and we close our eyes, holding on with all our strength.

  “It doesn’t matter if we stop,” I say, my throat tight. “I already can’t let you go.”

  He kisses me again, this time slow and deep, his fingers sliding under the neck of my gown to stroke my bare shoulder. This is so unfair. Every single thing about it feels right and perfect and good. I want it to last forever.

  But we’re fated by stars, our lives mapped and foretold. I can’t forget that, and I know Oskar hasn’t either when he pulls away once again to kiss my forehead, his lips against my brow as he says, “I know it would be a terrible scandal if I were found here with you, but what I wouldn’t give to sleep by your side again.”

  A tear slides from the corner of my eye, and he swipes it away with his thumb. “I miss those nights so much it hurts.”

  His s
mile is sad. “Perhaps someday, when this is over.”

  My stomach feels as hollow as my chest. “Perhaps someday.” Right now it feels better to pretend.

  I turn toward the Motherlake, and Oskar wraps his arms around me, drawing me into the shelter of his cloak. I lean my head back against his chest and look up at the moon, treasuring this collection of minutes, savoring each as if it’s the last. Because it might be.

  Our future rushes toward us like a storm on the Motherlake, and our enemies are powerful.

  Kauko is out there, perhaps leading two dozen rogue priests and apprentices. He has the cuff of Astia. He also has the Fire Suurin—along with hundreds of years of blood-fueled cunning.

  And the Soturi, hungry for our wealth, eager to dominate, they’re out there too.

  But so is she. I’m only a shadow compared to her. When we find her, I’ll be her Astia. Together, we’ll be perfect balance and infinite power.

  Together, we’ll save the Kupari.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  So much gratitude goes to the team at Simon & Schuster for taking my story and turning it into a beautiful book. To Ruta Rimas, my editor—thank you for your careful eye, endless enthusiasm, tireless advocacy, and the occasional clever and clarifying stick-figure drawing. Thanks also to Justin Chanda and Eunice Kim for support at every level, to Debra Sfetsios-Conover for designing yet another powerful cover for me. And thank you to Leo Hartas for creating the stunning map of Kupari.

  As always, I am grateful to my agent, Kathleen Ortiz, for being a true partner in this business. Thanks also to the rest of the New Leaf team, including Danielle Barthelle, Joanna Volpe, Jaida Temperly, Jess Dallow, and Dave Caccavo, for amazing auxiliary support.

  I owe many hugs to Virginia Boecker and Lydia Kang for reading early versions of this manuscript and giving me the encouragement I needed to keep working on it.

  Thanks to the CCBS team—it is a pleasure and a privilege to work with all of you. Special gratitude goes to Catherine Allen, who supplies coffee and wisdom and laughter, and to Paul and Liz, for being Paul and Liz.

  My family has been a source of unending support, and without them, it would have been so much more difficult to face the various storms of the past year. Mom and Dad, Cathryn and Robin, Alma and Asher, you each inspire me in different ways. I love you.

  And to my readers, thank you for making this work so worthwhile. It’s a privilege to share my stories with you.

  SARAH FINE is the author of Of Metal and Wishes, Of Dreams and Rust, and the Guards of the Shadowlands series. She was born on the West Coast, raised in the Midwest, and is now firmly entrenched on the East Coast, where she lives with her husband and two children. When she’s not writing, she’s working as a child psychologist. Visit her at SarahFineBooks.com.

  MARGARET K. MCELDERRY BOOKS

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  ALSO BY SARAH FINE

  Of Shadows and Obsession,

  an e–short story prequel to Of Metal and Wishes

  Of Metal and Wishes

  Of Dreams and Rust

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2016 by Sarah Fine

  Jacket photographs of faces copyright © 2016 by Michael David Adams

  Jacket retouching by David Field

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  The text for this book is set in Goudy Oldstyle Std.

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  ISBN 978-1-4814-4190-2 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4814-4192-6 (eBook)