The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(105)

I’m queen now. I can’t be loved by one. And especially not the Ice Suurin. Raimo’s warning is never that far from my thoughts. But neither is Oskar himself.

“I miss you, too,” the cool wind whispers.

I whirl, my heart lurching into my throat. Oskar stands at the far side of the balcony. He steps from the shadows, his thick cloak hanging from his shoulders, his footfalls silent despite his size. His hair is loose around his shoulders, and he hasn’t shaved in at least a week. He smells like earth and horse and smoke, the knees of his trousers are smudged with grime, and his boots are crusted with mud.

He’s never looked better.

“I thought you were in the outlands.”

He runs his hand over a smear of dirt on his cloak. I don’t miss his shiver as the wind tosses our hair. “I was. And tomorrow we’re riding to the western shore where it meets the Loputon. There have been reports of fires in the sky.”

I frown. “More wielders?” Someone powerful enough to send fire above the high hills on the coast. “Do you think it could be her?” Oskar’s not just looking for recruits—he’s looking for our Valtia. We might be taking steps to save ourselves, but we need her more than ever.

He shrugs. “No way of knowing until we get there. We can always hope.”

“Be careful,” I blurt out. “It could be the escaped priests. Or—Kauko probably has Sig, and—”

“Raimo told me.” His eyes glint with the ice inside. “I have no intention of letting the blood drinker have another Suurin. But I won’t abandon Sig either. If he’s there, I’m going to get him back.” He looks so fierce that it’s easy to believe.

I reach up and run the backs of my fingers along his rough, chilled cheek. “Why did you come?”

He arches his eyebrow. “Do you really need to ask?”

I grin. “How did you get in here?”

“During your coronation. It wasn’t difficult. We need to talk to Raimo about guards for your wing and Lahja’s.” His eyes linger on mine. He’s worried but trying not to say it.

My mouth twitches as I fight a smile. “So you’ve been shivering out here on my balcony the whole time my handmaiden undressed and bathed me?”

He clears his throat. “Well. As eager as I was to see you, I thought it best not to poke my head in while you were . . .”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Along with nearly everyone in the temple. What I wouldn’t give for a fireproof gown.

He rubs his hand over his scruffy face. “Would you forgive me if I told you the memory of it kept me warm while I waited?”

There it is, that tug low in my belly. It only gets worse as his gaze slides from my bare feet up to my face, not missing so much as an inch in between. “I would.”

He reaches for my right hand, the scarred one that is now tingling painfully from the cold, and draws me toward him, kissing each knuckle. “And I wasn’t just spending my time lost in thoughts of you.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I was practicing.”

He turns my palm upward. As we stare at it, crystals of ice burst from nothing and cluster in the air. They dance and swirl as they spiral downward, collecting on my hand and entwining until they form an eight-pointed star. One of the points is rounded and another juts out long and sharp, but neither flaw decreases my awe of it—and him.

“My control is getting better,” he says quietly, picking up the star and examining it. He holds it close and blows frosty air from between his lips, and the star disintegrates into a glitter of ice dust. “Sometimes small magic is the most difficult.”

I lay my palm on his cheek. “Does it feel all right?”

He bows his head. “I’m ashamed that I avoided it for so long.”

But he had every reason to be scared, and I understand it completely. “You should be proud of what you’re doing now.” I smile up at him. “I have something to show you, too.”

His eyebrow arches. “By all means.”

I focus on our connection, my skin against his, and imagine reaching through it, plunging my hand into the endless sea of ice inside him. Shivering, I stretch out my other arm, palm up. My eyes squeeze shut and sweat beads at my temple, but when I hear Oskar gasp, I know I’ve done it. I open my eyes to see the lump of melting snow on my palm, and my jittery laugh fogs the night. “Raimo has been letting me practice on him.”

Oskar rubs his chest. “I could feel you . . . inside.”

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I told you I was yours to wield.”

And that’s probably why I was able to do it. Raimo says it will take more work to pull magic from a wielder who’s resisting me, but even this has nearly exhausted me. I lean into Oskar, and my thumb strokes along the dark scruff on his jaw. “How are Maarika and Freya?”

He smiles. “They’re well, but Freya still hasn’t forgiven me for not letting her join the army. I told her I was just following your orders. You are the queen, after all.” His amusement slips away as he gazes down at me. “You looked lovely in the square, so regal.” His fingertips slide down my cheek, and his icy magic tingles along my skin, swirling inside my chest. “But you look a thousand times more beautiful now.”