I shiver and keep moving, walking along the road that leads south to the main square. Far off to my right, over by the docks, I can hear the distant rumbling voices of the sailors, our earliest risers, preparing for a day of pulling nets full of shimmering trout from the great Motherlake. My stomach grumbles at the thought of a steaming dish of glazed trout, cooked crisp and dripping. I take a bite of my bread and cheese and moan at the salty taste. Before I know it, I’ve shoved the entire hunk in my mouth. My cheeks bulge and I chew fiercely. I’m alive. I feel the chill of autumn on my face and hard cobblestones beneath my feet. I breathe. My back aches and itches and burns. My heart beats. Surely I’m not meant to die? Not yet. I’m not ready for that.
I gather my cloak around me as I enter the square, wishing for invisibility. When the elders realize I’m missing, what will they do? Sound the alarm? Reward the first citizen who turns me over to them? I hunch my shoulders and quicken my steps. The blacksmith’s forge is a three-sided building with a metal roof and stone walls. The front is fenced and gated. The blacksmith is already at work, his hairy, muscular arms flexing as he shovels charcoal into his forge. He doesn’t notice me hovering beyond his fence, a gray-cloaked ghost alone in the square.
I pad to a spot against the stone wall of his shop, right at the front. As he lights the fire, I feel the heat radiating outward. This is where Mim wanted me to wait. I peer at the eastern sky, which is slowly transforming from black to purple. It’s so strange to be standing here, huddled in plain clothes, my tender soles aching from the journey I’ve made. The pain in my feet draws me to the ground, where I lower one of my stockings and peel back my slipper to see a line of blisters below my bony ankle. Have I ever had a blister before? Not in my memory. I don’t know how to care for it—but Mim will. She’s the only thing that makes any of this bearable.
My fingers trail up under my dress to brush my blood-flame mark. It pulses a numb greeting, sending a buzzing sensation up my leg. Why do I have this mark, if I’m not the Valtia? What else could I possibly be if not the true queen? I grip my leg and look back toward the temple.
I won’t give myself up. I’ll find a way to wield the magic inside me, and then I’ll return to the temple victorious. Kauko said I would be the most powerful Valtia who ever lived. He said I was the one.
“Never doubt,” I murmur.
Stars, who am I kidding? I am made of doubt right now.
I lean against the rough stone wall and have to bite back an agonized cry as my flayed back touches the unforgiving surface. Mim did a good job with my bandages, and she must have smeared a numbing cream on them, because the pain has been manageable. But she’ll need to dress them again tonight. I’m not sure I want to know what my skin looks like. It used to be smooth, and now . . . now it is probably forever scarred. Perhaps when I find my magic, I’ll be able to heal myself. It’s a comforting thought.
The sky gets lighter, and my stomach burbles, first happily, and then hungrily. That bread and cheese was the only thing I’d eaten since before the ruined harvest ceremony. I pray for the sun to rise a little faster, because it will signal Mim’s arrival with breakfast. She never fails me. I bet she’ll bring something special, just to make me feel better.
Finally, the sun tears itself loose from the horizon and begins its arcing ascent. Orange and pink fingers of light stretch across the sky, and the city wakes. The plodding of horses’ hooves and shouts of peddlers hawking their wares begin to fill the air, first only a few, and then dozens. Bells clang as the fishermen enter the harbor. The blacksmith’s strikes on his forge are shrill stabs of sound. The breeze brings me the scent of meat pies and baking bread and garlicky, spicy sausages. I think I could eat one as big as my own arm.
I watch the space between two stout buildings at the northern end of the square, the road leading north to the gates of the temple grounds. The sun has risen above the city council’s meeting hall now, and my heart beats faster. She said she’d be with me before I started to miss her, so she needs to come soon.
And then there she is. Her hooded figure strides down the road, a covered basket in her hands. I push myself to my feet but remain against the wall. I don’t want to be seen. Mim emerges from between the two buildings, and I stare greedily at her basket, wondering what she’s packed. I also wonder what her family will think of me when we arrive. Will they understand what’s happening and sympathize? Surely she wouldn’t take me to them if she thought they’d alert the elders.
Instead of coming toward me, Mim turns left and walks across the square. She must not have seen me—even though I’m waiting right where she told me to. Pulling my hood low to make sure it covers my face, I step onto the road and cross the square, weaving my way around peddlers’ carts and maids and houseboys out to make morning purchases for their households. Mim disappears into the bakery, and I chuckle. If there was nothing special in the temple kitchens, then she’s probably getting something for me there. I’m almost skipping as I near the bakery. The scent of lard and yeast is making me dizzy.
She comes out of the bakery, her basket now laden with buns, her hood thrown back.