That was where Jem-Kruk was taking me, beyond the cramped, provincial city center to the outskirts. We were still within the walls, but there was more room to breathe. A small orchard grew alongside the wooden fence that surrounded the pasture, and the Forsa River cut through the lush grass. The trees were all Sommar plums, and their big pink blossoms were in full bloom.
The giant woollies were lazily grazing, some of them lying in the shade of a tall oak tree, younger calves frolicking around them. Jem leaned against the fence, and I made sure there was distance between us when I leaned on the fence.
“You really don’t trust me?” he asked, looking at the space I had created.
“I don’t know you,” I said evenly. “And I don’t know if you’re good to my friend or not. All I know is that you’re here and she isn’t.”
He exhaled and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I want to talk to Eliana. I want to hear from her that she’s okay.”
“Where she’s at right now…” He frowned and stared at the elk. “It’s not possible right now.”
“Why not?”
“She’s too sick,” he insisted. “Not now.”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I heard that you were worried.”
“How could you possibly know that? And why would you even care?”
“Two questions with one answer—we have a friend in common.”
“You mean someone other than Eliana?” I asked. “Who?”
“I’ll tell you, but I fear you won’t like my answer,” he said with a weary laugh.
“But these aren’t hard questions,” I argued. “The name of our mutual friend? Where Eliana is? What you’re doing here and who you are?”
As I’d been talking, my voice had gotten louder, and the elk stopped grazing to look at us. A breeze came up, causing a few Sommar plum blossoms to fall around us, scenting the air sweetly.
“Illaria told me that you were concerned, but who told her that, I honestly have no idea,” Jem-Kruk said.
“You’re right. I don’t like the answer,” I grumbled.
“I told you my name, and why I’m here.” He squinted into the bright afternoon sunlight, his long lashes hiding his eyes. “It’s hard to tell a story backwards, is all.”
“Then tell it from the beginning,” I said simply.
“Eliana and Illaria’s parents are old family friends, and I’ve known the twins since they were born,” he began. “Both girls were high-strung, as you may have discerned, but they were fine and happy. Or at least it seemed that way. Until their mother fell ill and passed away.
“Eliana took it the hardest,” he went on. “We live far away in a very isolated kingdom. Some have called us extraordinarily private, and that kind of environment led to Eliana and Illaria becoming quite sheltered.
“I can’t tell you what’s wrong with Eliana because I unfortunately don’t know,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “There is an erratic paranoia about her, and she ran off. Illaria, our friend Sumi, and I went looking for her, and we eventually found her here.”
“How did you know to look for her here?” I asked.
He seemed to hesitate before answering. “That’s more complicated, but the simplest explanation I can give is that Sumi is very skilled at finding what she’s looking for, and Eliana had said some things that led us to believe she’d head to this area.”
“I met Sumi,” I said, thinking back to the trio of brief interactions I’d had with her. The very first time, she’d helped me find Eliana, but she’d deliberately chosen to stay back. “She had a chance to grab Eliana, but she let her go with me. Why?”
“It’s as you said—Sumi would’ve needed to grab her.” He gestured in the air. “We didn’t want to kidnap her or make it any more traumatic. Sumi was trying to give her space and only check on her, but Eliana got scared and called her a dragon before taking off. Sumi thought it’d be best to let her go with friends she felt safe with, and we could come up with a better plan.
“The cloaking that happens here messes with Sumi’s abilities, and she struggled to find Eliana again, despite the close proximity,” he elaborated. “We figured that Eliana wouldn’t want to miss the Midsommar, and we were hoping for a more … happy reunion.”
“Why can’t I see her?” I asked again.
“She’s with her family, and visitors aren’t allowed,” he explained. “It’s not up to me, so there isn’t a point in you begging or bartering.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek and considered his explanation. The pieces seemed to fit, but the whole thing would be a lot easier to swallow if there were someone else to back up his story, especially someone like Eliana.
The split-rail fence was dry and rough under my skin, and I twisted my hand around it.
“I think I would feel more at ease if I understood what you’re doing here now,” I said finally.
“You were Eliana’s friend, and you cared for her when she needed it,” he said. “Truth be told, she doesn’t remember you now. She hopefully will again someday, but not today. But I know that she wouldn’t want you to worry.”
“That’s really why you came back?” I asked, and he nodded. “Where do you come from?”
He gave me a sly smile, his dark eyes sparkling in the warm sun. “All I can tell you is that it is far, far away.”
“Why did you tell me to come find you?” I asked, remembering the note I had found in my things after Eliana had gone.
If you ever want to say hello—to me or to Eliana—come find us.
X Jem-Kruk
“That was you who left the note?” I asked. I’d believed that he had, but I wanted confirmation, and I got it when he winced and ran his hand through his tangles of hair. “Why would you leave that note if you knew I’d never be allowed into your kingdom?”
His eyes were downcast, so his thick lashes hovered above his rosy, high cheekbones. “I made a dumb choice on the fly, but Illaria immediately told me how ridiculous I was being. I’m sorry about that.”
“What is your kingdom called?” I asked.
“I grew up in a place called Adlrivellir. Lots of mountains, cool summers, and long winters. It’s different from here, to be sure, but it’s not as dissimilar as you may think.”
“Are you a troll?” I asked. “Like me?”
“We call ourselves something else, but I believe we are the same.”
“What are you called?”
“We are álfar,” he said.
“But what about the books?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “How come you’re the star of children’s books?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is Jem-Kruk a popular name where you come from?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know about popular, but I am certainly not the only Jem.”
“Maybe whoever wrote the book is from your hometown,” I realized.
“What?”
I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“Are you finished with all your questions?”
“Hardly,” I said, and I laughed. “But I suppose I can give it a rest for now. Are you going to stay in Merellä for a while?”
“A few days.”
“Okay. But there is one more thing I want to know. When you first talked to me at the market, that was to find out if Eliana was safe?”
“No, I didn’t realize you knew her then.”
I looked at him more closely, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Why did you talk to me, then?”
He laughed. “Because I thought you looked like somebody I’d want to know better. So I got to know you better, and it turns out I was right.”
28
Light-Headed
We were sitting under the Sommar plum tree, the grass softly tickling my calves, which were bare below my Bermuda shorts. Out in the pasture, a pair of woollies had some disagreement. They let out annoyed bellows before smashing their antlers together.
It was as if the crack of their antlers woke me from a trance, and I blinked into the waning afternoon sun. I had been talking with Jem—mostly abstract, nonpersonal things, about the weather, the elk, the fruit, and then eventually I was divulging everything, every thought in my head about my life and myself.
Before I knew it, I was telling him the story of my entire life. I left out anything embarrassing and details I didn’t want to share. It wasn’t a compulsion, exactly, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from telling Jem-Kruk about growing up a lonely child in a frozen town, and the overwhelming loving chaos of the Holmes household, and all the worry and wonder I had about my birth family, where I came from, and who I was.
“You seem like you’re someone who knows precisely who you are,” Jem-Kruk had been saying, just before the woolly elk had begun their fight.
“What time is it?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it.
“What?”
“How long have we been out here?” I rummaged through my bag, searching for my cell phone, which served mostly as a fancy watch within the Merellä city limits.
“Are you okay?” He reached out to put his hand on mine—soft, warm, heavy, like, almost strangely heavy, like he somehow carried extra mass in his bones.
And the way he was looking at me—it was lust or longing or … I don’t know what it was, honestly, but he was handsome and dreamy, almost like he wasn’t even here at all. Even though I could I feel the weight of his hand, so heavy on mine.
He was real, but the light hitting his sharp androgynous features gave him an ethereal perfection. The high cheekbones and razor-sharp jawline, and just the lightest dusting of freckles smattered across his tawny skin. He was like a painting, a video game character, something so very close to real life but somehow not quite.
I finally found my phone in my bag, and I pulled my gaze away to see the block numbers alarmingly declaring it after four in the afternoon.
“Oh, shit! I’m supposed to be at work!” I stood up. “I am working! I’m so … not even late anymore. I’ve straight-up missed work.” I groaned and rubbed my forehead. “Oh, no. I’ve totally messed up. I don’t know how I lost track of time like that.”
“Are you okay?” Jem-Kruk had stood up, and he reached out to steady me, but I recoiled.
“I’m … it’s fine,” I said uncertainly. “I have to go.”
And then I was walking away, not quite jogging, but traveling fast, and I didn’t look back. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to tell Calder, what could possibly excuse my absence.
I’d been gone for so long that the only acceptable excuse would be that I had abruptly fallen ill, so ill that I was initially too incapacitated to even phone the archives. That would be more convincing if he didn’t see me, looking slightly frazzled and flushed but clearly not so sick I couldn’t give Calder word about it.
I made a beeline for my apartment, keeping my head down so I wouldn’t be spotted, and went over what I would say to Calder, getting it right inside my head.
“Ulla!” Pan shouted, and I looked up to see him sitting on the landing outside my apartment door. He stood and came down the steps toward me. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I just…” I trailed off, because it all sounded too impossible to explain. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“I came back to the office this afternoon, and Sylvi told me you were looking for me, so I went to the archives, and Calder said you disappeared after lunch. I couldn’t get ahold of you, and I was worried that something bad had happened.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze lingering on the butterfly bandage and the scratch on my cheek. “Did that just happen?”
“What?” I asked, and he reached out, his fingertips brushing across the tender skin around my wounds. “No, that was yesterday, from an incident with some bookshelves.”
“What does that mean?” His jaw tensed. “Ulla, is somebody hurting you?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s not like that at all.” I started toward the steps. “Come on up. I’ll explain everything.”
Up in the apartment, we stood in the kitchen, eating pears and drinking sun tea. Neither of us had gotten much to eat that day, and without Hanna living here the endless supply of tasty leftovers had ended, so the pears were a fast snack.
As we ate, I told him everything I knew about Jem-Kruk, and all that he had told me. I may have significantly downplayed how attractive Jem was and the effect that he sometimes had on me (as in—I didn’t mention it at all), but otherwise I laid it out honestly.
Pan listened quietly, only occasionally asking questions, but when I finally came to the end of everything I had say, he was silent. He finished the last few bites of his fruit, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’ll have to be honest with you, Ulla.” He looked at me with pursed lips. “This all sounds incredibly sketchy.”
“But it’s in line with what we know about Eliana and the Älvolk,” I pointed out.
He rested his hands on the counter beside him and leaned back. “Is it possible? With our world, we can’t rule out much, that’s true. But the difference between possible and probable is vast, and the likelihood that he’s being one hundred percent truthful with you is a lot lower than the likelihood that he’s dangerous.”
“I get what you’re saying,” I admitted quietly.
“But you believe him anyway.” His voice was low, unsurprised.
“I’m not blindly trusting any of it,” I argued. “But I know he’s got a connection to Eliana, and he’s the only one I’ve got so far. Everything else I’m going on, it’s chasing rumors. But he knows her.”
“If you’re going to keep talking to him—and I am assuming that you will—then you need to go about this the right way.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So I’ll talk to Sylvi, and see if I can find out anything about him. Where is he staying?”
“I don’t know, actually. He said he’d be around for a while.”
“That’ll give me another thing to talk about with Sylvi,” he said, and I let out a dry laugh. “There’s one thing that’s still bothering me.” Pan tilted his head. “Why does he share his name with a fairy-tale Viking? It’s a strange name.”
“As are Panuk and Ulla, so I don’t think we’re in a place to talk about unusual names, at least not in this neighborhood,” I said, and he laughed. “His is a different kingdom, so the culture is going to have differences. But the other names in the book—Jo-Huk, Senka, Iry-Ka—sound similar to me. I don’t think it really means anything.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he allowed, but he stared off like he wasn’t completely convinced.
29
Korva
Dagny insisted on walking with me to the office in the morning. She said it was because she wanted to make sure I got there safely, as if Jem-Kruk or one of his friends would jump out of the shadows and kidnap me (as if he couldn’t have done that already if that’s what he wanted to do), a theory encouraged by Pan when he stayed for supper the previous evening. The two of them had debated and speculated about what Jem-Kruk’s true motivations might be, while I made supper.
Some of their ideas were very outlandish—foreign spies or fictional characters come to life or alien overlords. But they had dismissed these notions almost as soon as they’d suggested them.
None of that really mattered, though, because that wasn’t why Dagny was walking with me now, at least not the real deep-down reason. She felt responsible for delivering me, since she’d been the one to go to the trouble of setting up the meeting with a Mästare to discuss Jem-Kruk.
“I’ll make the call,” Dagny had said abruptly while she was talking with Pan, leaving Pan to shoot me a few confused looks. They’d been sitting at the bistro table, while I stood over the kitchen sink, cutting carrots.
“That’d be weird, wouldn’t it? For you to call my boss when I could easily do it?” Pan had asked.
“No, not Sylvi. No of
fense, Pan, but this sounds out of the scope of Inhemsk,” she had said.
He’d frowned. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me to be offended before you mentioned it.”
“Sorry.” She had shrugged. “I just think it would be better for Ulla if this was brought to the attention of someone with more expertise in interacting with remote, private kingdoms.”
Dagny then got up and went over to the phone, but she looked to me before dialing. “Should I call Elof and see what he can do?”
“Yeah, if you think it’ll be the most helpful,” I’d said.
And then she had been the one to play phone tag, and eventually resorted to using a courier to get the messages promptly back and forth to the Mästare.
While Dagny had been carefully writing a note in her delicate script, she told me, “So many of the faculty around here actively loath technology. I don’t usually listen to gossip, but I’ve heard credible rumors that none of the members of the Styrelse will even use a cell phone.”
Finally, she’d gotten confirmation that I’d be meeting with the Mästare on the fourth floor, and she wasn’t invited.
So now she was ushering me to the meeting, to be sure we were early enough that we could leisurely walk down the hall to Mästare Amalie’s chambers. We passed the painting by Monet before the door to Eliana’s room—or at least, it would’ve been hers if she’d been around long enough to sleep in it more than one night.
I’d been in Mästare Amalie’s room once before, and we’d been let in by her assistant. This time, a guard was standing in front of her door, dressed in the same crimson uniform as the security at the Mimirin entrance.
Dagny saw the guard and let out a resigned sigh. “Good luck with your meeting, Ulla,” she said and walked away without even trying to get in.
“Ulla Tulin?” The guard put one finger on his temple and narrowed his dark eyes at me, then he nodded once and stepped to the side. “They’re expecting you.”
The Morning Flower Page 14
