I draw my dry tongue across my chapped lips. “You’re saying I definitely have no magic?”
“Not an ounce. Not a jot. Not a drop.” Raimo has moved from my side and is hunched over a wooden board, chopping herbs that fill the room with a fresh, astringent scent. “Not even a tiny little splinter of it. Not even a—”
“I get it,” I snap, then cough with the effort. “Then why would anyone think I was dangerous?”
“All people have some amount of fire and ice inside them. Even if it’s just enough to make them hot-tempered or easygoing. Even if it only makes them fit for ice-fishing or blacksmithing. Even in people not from Kupari, where the copper flows through our veins and enhances those elements in a few, causing it to manifest as magic.”
“Copper . . . they locked me up in a box of copper. . . .”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course they did. But you understand—copper is the source. It’s the reason the Kupari have magic when no one else does.” He snorts. “And the Kupari people love their magic—so long as the wielders are shut away tight within the temple walls. But never before has one such as you walked among us, completely devoid of fire and ice.”
Shame fills me again. “Was I always like this?”
He shrugs. “Before the Valtia died, you had no ice or fire, but you probably weren’t immune to its effects. You weren’t the vessel you are now, just like the Valtia is an ordinary girl until the magic awakens inside of her.”
Perhaps his words explain the vast, shapeless void that’s opened inside me, the hollow thump of my heart. The numbness that radiates from my blood-flame mark. “How does that make me anything but useless? I’m a mistake.”
“You shouldn’t even exist,” he comments as he picks up a wooden-handled pitcher from near the fire and waddles over to me again.
I close my eyes. “Then let me die.”
“Not a chance.” Warm water pours over my back, and he begins to peel away the bandages Mim wrapped tightly around me. “Nothing like you has ever existed, Elli. I was starting to believe I’d been wrong all along. But your arrival marks the beginning of a new era for the Kupari. You’re going to change everything, for better or worse.” He makes a sound of disgust as he tosses a bloody strip of cloth away. “Assuming you live out the night, that is.”
“How could it be anything but worse?” I croak. “The Kupari need a Valtia.”
“Oh, she’s out there.” He pulls away the final strip of gauze. The cool air of the cave bites at my broken skin, but then he spreads something sticky over the lash wounds. It smells like sage and onion, honey and slippery elm. “In fact,” he says as he works, “she’ll be immeasurably powerful.”
Like the stars foretold. “How do you know?”
“Because if she wasn’t, the cosmos wouldn’t have created you to keep the balance.”
“But the Valtia is balance.” This is a truth embedded in my bones.
His eyes meet mine. “Not this time.”
“How do you know so much?” The elders and priests guard their knowledge closely, which has always been incredibly frustrating. And Sofia once told me that most citizens have only the barest understanding of the magic, which makes sense, since the children who reveal themselves as able to wield it are taken to the temple as soon as they’re discovered. Except for this man, apparently. Which could mean only one thing.
“Were you a priest?”
His smile glistens in the flickering firelight. “Not during your lifetime.”
It’s not a denial. “Why did you leave?”
One of his bushy eyebrows twitches like a living thing. “Let’s just say I found my fellow priests to be a bit bloodthirsty.” He takes my ruined hand and lays it on a clean scrap of brown wool. “This is still oozing. I’m going to have to cauterize it.”
I shiver. “You said fire wouldn’t affect me.”
“I said magic wouldn’t affect you. Ordinary flames made from ordinary fuel are a different matter entirely.” He moves close to the fire. I hear the clang of metal. My stomach clenches.
“What will happen if it’s not cauterized?”
“You’ll bleed to death. Or possibly die of blood poisoning.”
Neither of those sounds terrible at the moment. Perhaps Raimo senses my thoughts, because he looks over his shoulder at me. “You were raised as the Saadella, were you not?”
“I was,” I whisper.
“So you were brought up with the understanding that you exist to serve the Kupari.”