The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(29)
And as the twilight comes, chasing away the heat of the surprisingly warm autumn afternoon, I am still there. Hollow with hunger and shock and worry. Mim hasn’t come.
“—already searched the Lantinen,” comes an unmistakable, reedy voice—it’s Leevi. “So we’ll search along Etela Road next. I sent my apprentice ahead to give them notice.”
My whole body jolts. As a distant rumble of thunder rolls across the Motherlake, I yank my hood up and scramble away from the northern road, ending up by the bakery again, just in time to watch Elder Aleksi and Elder Leevi stride into the square. People back away from them as they pass, bowing with reverence when they notice the elders’ belts, shot through with the copper that marks their status. A few women coming out of the bakery whisper to one another, and I hear the one word that tells me exactly what Leevi and Aleksi are doing.
Saadella.
They’re searching for the little girl with the copper hair, the ice-blue eyes, and the blood-flame mark. My replacement. The one who would be Valtia, if only I were dead. Or, at least, that’s what they think. I cross the square to walk slowly behind the two elders. I want to know if they’re looking for me, too. As we leave the square and start down Etela Road, which leads directly south until it meets the timber wall that rings the city, people gather in the street even though it’s starting to rain. Mothers and fathers wipe drops from their faces and push their daughters to the center of the road. All the girls have copper hair. Pale-blue eyes.
There must be at least ten of them on this street alone.
I step into an alley between a cooperage and a brewery as Aleksi and Leevi reach the first girl. She’s perhaps three or four, and her damp red hair falls in tangled waves to her shoulders. Her mother grasps her by the rib cage and lifts her into the air. “She’s got an eerie, calm temperament, Elders. She has since she was a babe. Wise beyond her years. I’ve always wondered.”
My breath comes faster. Was that what it was like when I was found?
Aleksi leans forward and sniffs at the girl’s curls. “What is the true color of her hair?” When the woman’s eyes go wide, he grins. “I know the smell of henna, my dear woman.” He swipes his hand along the girl’s wet hair and then waves it in front of her mother, his palm stained orange-red. “Better go inside and wash it out before it stains all your linens.”
Leevi scowls. “And before we call for your banishment for attempting to deceive an elder.”
Aleksi and Leevi move on, and the now ashen-faced woman drags her little girl back into their shabby cottage. I am frozen where I am as the rain begins to fall in earnest, watching from the alley as the elders discard one girl because her mark is brown, not red, and another because her blood-flame mark turns out to be rose-madder paint. Every little girl is a pretender, every parent a desperately hopeful fraud. Leevi comments that perhaps they should stop offering such a rich bounty for the Saadella, since it inspires so much trickery among the Kupari people. Aleksi says they’ve been way too lenient over the years and wonders aloud if they should call the constables to immediately banish the would-be deceivers to the outlands. A few other parents who had been waiting their turn hustle their daughters back inside when they hear the threat.
The doubt squirms inside me. Is that all I was, a source of wealth for my parents? Did they take the bounty and flee the peninsula to start a new life someplace far away, where no one would know they’d fooled the entire Kupari people? Have I been an impostor from the start? I touch the hair beneath my hood. I blink my eyes. Could there have been another, one just like me, who was never found?
If there were anything in my stomach, I’d be retching it onto the mud at my feet. Did my parents find a way to fool the priests? Or was it an innocent mistake? My head aches with horror and exhaustion. My ears throb dully. My back is a hard shell of agony. When I blunder out of the alley, Leevi and Aleksi have moved on, thank the stars. I stumble down the street, rain drenching my cloak, mud pulling at my heels. I have no idea where I’m going. I wish Mim had told me where her parents live—I’m willing to go there right now and beg them to take me in.
I need to find a place to bed for the night. In the morning I’ll wait for Mim again. I want to be right there when she comes, so we don’t miss each other. She must have thought it wasn’t safe to leave just yet. Maybe someone else discovered I was missing, and she had to pretend she was shocked. Maybe she’s having to help look for me. But it’s only a matter of time until she slips away. I keep saying that to myself, even as my worry for her grows like a vine, strangling my hope.
The people on the streets cast long shadows in the firelight shining from cottages along the lane. I stagger along, barely avoiding the clomping horses and rattling carts that go by, their drivers slumped and hooded against the downpour. Then the loveliest scent reaches me, powerful and gut-clenching. Just ahead, there’s a market, the attendants pulling in their goods for the night. Beneath the overhang, at a table in the corner, is a wooden plate that hasn’t been cleared yet, and on it is a small stack of meat pies.
My body scrambles forward before I can form a thought. My hands reach out, shaking with need. In half a moment I’m stuffing a pie into my mouth. As the salty, earthy taste explodes on my tongue, I close my eyes and sink weakly onto one of the chairs next to the table.
“Here, what’re you doing?” says a coarse, rasping voice.