Kauko gives me a sheepish smile. “I know it’s a small thing to ask of such profound magic, but it is our tradition. If you will, my Valtia . . . light this candle with your magic. Illuminate our way as we ascend into the temple and greet this wonderful new era.”
I take a moment to thank Sofia for this gift of her magic, and I promise her I’ll use it well, just as she did. Then I stare at the wick, yellow and waxy. I imagine it bursting into a perfect tongue of flame.
Nothing happens.
I close my eyes and wait for the fire to rise within me, a jewel of golden heat to adorn the candle, to melt the wax, to . . . I open my eyes.
“Ah,” I say in a shaky voice. “How am I supposed to do it?”
Aleksi’s brow furrows. “It shouldn’t be difficult for you, Valtia. Unless you’re worried you’ll set us all aflame with your power?”
There’s nervous laughter around the chamber—if the magic were out of control, that’s exactly what could happen. But my magic, the Valtia’s magic, is completely balanced, and therefore easy to control.
Until it isn’t, whisper my thoughts. The memory of Sofia’s body being torn apart appears before my eyes. Kauko touches my arm and snaps me back to the present. “There’s no need to fear, my Valtia,” he says. “You can stop holding back. The barest passing thought will light the candle. Simply wish for flame, and it will appear.”
I thought I’d already tried that. But I do it again, focusing hard on the torch guttering at the back of the chamber. I capture the image of fire in my mind and then stare once more at the virgin wick. My heart thuds in my hollow chest. I reach out and lift the candle from its plate, wrapping my fingers around its base and holding it up in front of me. The cuff of Astia lies heavy and comforting on my wrist. Only a few hours ago, it helped raise waterspouts from the lake and draw lightning from the sky. Lighting a candle is child’s play. I chuckle, pushing down the uncertainty rising within me. “Never doubt,” I whisper.
Kauko smiles and returns his gaze to the wick. So do I. My stare consumes it. I call for heat to blaze at its tip, to blacken the wick, to burst into flame. I imagine the waft of warmth against my cheeks and the cheers of my new subjects. My arms begin to tremble with the strain. I clench my teeth.
Please.
Please catch fire.
Please burn.
It doesn’t.
CHAPTER 5
I don’t know how long I stand there before Kauko takes pity on me. He takes the candle from my stiff fingers. “My deepest apologies, Valtia,” he says, bowing his head. “You have been through so much tonight. It was selfish of us to ask you for anything before you’ve had a chance to rest.”
His hands shake a little as he removes the cuff of Astia from my wrist and places it in the wooden box. While he gives it to his apprentice, I blink down at my empty hands, at the tiny, faint smear of lip paint on my palm. Hesitantly, I raise my head. No one speaks, no one smiles, but all of them stare.
Aleksi’s eyes meet mine. “Clear the room!” he barks, his jowls quivering. “Our Valtia must have quiet and rest.”
Leevi, his slender shoulders tense beneath his robe, ushers out all the apprentices and acolytes. As the last apprentice steps into the rocky corridor, I hear him whisper to a female acolyte next to him, “I can light a candle without even thinking about it.”
The words hit like stones in a pool, sending ripples of misgiving along my limbs. “Elder,” I say in a hoarse voice. “What’s wrong with me?”
Kauko takes my arm and helps me step off the stone slab. My stockinged feet are soaked and aching, no longer numb. In fact, my whole self hurts. I feel like I’ve been trampled by a horse. My red gown is damp and stained with sweat. Surely I’m the most bedraggled Valtia that ever was.
“I’m sure nothing is wrong with you, my queen,” Kauko says quietly as he guides me out of the chamber and toward the steps. Aleksi mounts them ahead of us, and I wonder if he’s going up to make sure I don’t have an audience as I’m led to my bedchamber. “I think the strain of witnessing Sofia’s final moments has jarred you. It was a mistake to allow you to see her that way.” His grip on my elbow is steady and comforting as he takes me up the stairs.
“I insisted,” I say, rubbing at my throat, raw from my cries of grief. “It wasn’t Leevi’s fault.”
“You are generous, Valtia.” His frown is so deep that it looks like someone’s carved a divot from the corner of his nose to the edge of his jaw.
I pull my gaze away from it, because it stirs up uneasiness within me. “I’ll rest,” I tell him. “I’m sure that in the morning, I’ll have recovered.”
“I have no doubt.” He puts his arm around my back as we stride through the domed chamber and into the Saadella’s wing. “You’ll stay in your old bedchamber tonight while we ready the Valtia’s quarters for you.”