Lahja’s eyes meet mine. She leans forward and kisses my cheek. Slowly she puts her arms around my neck, and I enfold her, silently promising to do right by her. She’s not mine. I’m not hers. The true Valtia should be here, not me. But until she is, I’m going to stand between Lahja and any danger that comes.
I kiss her good-bye and stride into the hall. I won’t let them carry me in a sedan chair, seeing as I’m perfectly capable of walking. I enter the domed chamber. It’s been cleaned and repaired in the last two weeks. A few of our acolytes are placing candles around the edges of the chamber in preparation for the procession. One of them is Kaisa, the girl with blue eyes and a mole on her cheek. Her head is covered in short blond fuzz. It seems ridiculous for the acolytes to be bald unless they really want to be, and I told them so. She waves at me as I make my way toward the Valtia’s wing, and I wave back.
If she knows I’m not the true Valtia, she’s not saying. No one is. Their need to believe is so strong and desperate that it silences all doubt.
Never doubt, whispers Sofia. I will never stop missing her.
My stomach tightens as I enter the ceremonial dressing chamber. It’s just me today—I won’t let Lahja be painted up for this occasion. She’s so young, and I’m afraid she’ll associate it with what she went through, watching Mim burn before her eyes. Today she’ll ride with me, on my paarit, and she’ll be comfortable. I’ll make sure of it. We need her smile today.
I glance out the window at the Motherlake. Her winter armor is cracking, but it hasn’t yet thawed. I never thought I’d fear the spring, but now the thought of it fills me with dread.
Raimo hobbles in from the balcony, wearing a new black robe belted with hemp rope. He’s taken charge of the fifty or so acolytes and apprentices who lived through the battle and didn’t decide to flee the city, as all the surviving priests did. We believe at least a dozen escaped with their apprentices, and there’s been no sign of them. One more worry to add to my list—which makes me all the more grateful for the frail old man in front of me . . . and afraid that his early emergence from his self-imposed hibernation will take a lasting toll. His walking stick clacks against the stone floor, and his stringy beard swishes back and forth as he comes forward.
“The council granted me access to the archives,” I tell him.
“And?”
“The news isn’t good. There were three girls born during the alignment, including me. And the other two are dead. Their deaths were recorded in the registers.” One of the names gave me such a pang—it was Ansa, Maarika’s beloved niece, who died when her family’s homestead was attacked by the Soturi.
Raimo sighs. “And that means our Valtia’s birth was probably not recorded. Either her family was living outside the walls or they were homeless beggars, too poor to pay the birth tax.”
“What do we do now?”
His eyebrows twitch. “We keep looking. She can’t hide forever.”
“And do you have news?” I ask. “I’d especially appreciate the hopeful, non-dire kind.”
He shakes his head. “I checked with the relay riders. The constables at the border have seen no sign of the Soturi yet. I’m wondering if the barbarians are waiting for the Motherlake to thaw. They could attack simultaneously by land and water if so.”
I let out a shaky breath. It’s only a matter of time until the Soturi come for us, and I’m determined to stop them—with the help of my people. “All right.”
He clears his throat. “They finished clearing out the tunnel connecting the dock to the catacombs this morning.”
A sharp pang stabs through me. “And?”
The knobby lump in his throat bobs as he swallows. “Sig and Kauko were nowhere to be found.”
I close my eyes. “The boat?”
“Gone.”
“Sig,” I whisper. I hurt him. Burned him. And then left him at the mercy of the man who’d whipped him and drunk his blood. “Do you think he survived?”
Raimo gives me a pained look, his face becoming a maze of wrinkles. “Kauko, as he’s called now, has always been a talented healer.”
I lay my hand over my stomach, feeling sick. I made a choice, and I didn’t choose the Fire Suurin. And now . . . “What will he do to Sig?”
“It’s hard to say, Elli. But it won’t be good.”
“We have to find him.”
He nods. “Oskar said the same.”
Our eyes meet. “You talked to him?” My heart kicks against my breast.
Raimo smiles, but it’s tinged with unease. “He’s been quite successful. He knows all the camps that harbor wielders throughout the peninsula. It will take some time to earn their trust, but he’s working on it.”
“Who’s with him?” Who protects his back? Who kindles the fire when he shivers at night?
“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.