The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(27)

I am thinking about it—the possibility of living with her, however humbly, is like a bright torch in all this darkness. And so is her love for me. I know it’s the love of a servant for her mistress, perhaps a big sister for a little one, not the same as mine for her. Still, it’s real and warm and I need it, especially now that I’ve lost everything else.

We reach the bottom of the steps and Mim pushes open a thick wooden door, wincing as it grates against the stone frame. The inky wash of night greets us, though I know dawn must be approaching. “If you walk this path here—” She moves her finger along a trail of white stones shielded by a high wall so that the views from the temple and the white plaza aren’t marred by servants going back and forth. “You can go around the gates this way—it’ll get you to the northern road. Follow it until you reach the square, then wait for me next to the blacksmith’s. It’s a warm place to sit and rest. I’ll bring more food with me when I come.” She presses a hunk of bread into my hand. It’s been ripped open and a thick slice of hard cheese has been wedged into its center. My mouth fills with saliva.

“Go,” she whispers. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her brown curls are a chaotic tangle around her face, and the brightness has returned to her blue eyes. Her cheeks are flushed. She’s so beautiful and cheerful as she saves me from certain death, and it makes salvation seem possible.

“I’m not delirious,” I tell her. “I meant what I said.”

Her face crumples, and for an instant I see the fear she’s been working so hard to hide. “Elli, go. Please. If they catch you, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“But what about you?” Aleksi might blame me, but what if he blames Mim, too, for giving me information? “Come with me now. We can—”

Mim shakes her head. “We’ll have more time to get you hidden if I check in with the matron first. But I’ll be with you before you start to miss me. I promise.” She tugs my hood up until it covers my half my face, then gives me a gentle nudge toward the world outside the temple. My slipper hovers over the dirt and grass and stone. I haven’t set foot on the bare ground since I was four years old. In all the years since then, I’ve been carried on a paarit or in a sedan chair. But if I don’t take these steps, I’ll die.

It makes it surprisingly easy to move forward.

My feet are silent as I tread the white stones that lead me away from the only home I remember, the fortress from which I was supposed to rule. I should be weeping or falling to my knees in despair, but like the magic, I can’t find those feelings inside me. I am sad, though. Desperately so.

I let everyone down. I failed my people. I failed my Valtia. And when they find the child Saadella, who will love her and watch over her? I’ve failed her, too.

Maybe I deserve to be cast out. Perhaps I even deserve to be killed. I reach the edge of the grounds and look back at the domed silhouette of the Temple on the Rock towering above me, majestic and mighty, pale-green copper and snowy marble ice. Am I being selfish? Should I go back and offer myself up?

Or would that doom a little Saadella to an early death after spending her youth serving the will of the priests?

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.