The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(47)

“Why wouldn’t you believe her?” comes a rough voice from behind me. Oskar strides out of the back tunnel with a few other men. His long hair is wet; he must have just had a wash. His lips are gray with cold and his jaw is set like he’s trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He wipes a wool cloth across his face and slings it over his shoulder as he and the others walk toward us. “How many here have similar stories? How many here have been banished? We have no choice but to trust one another.”

“I’m sorry, Oskar,” says Aira in a silky, careful voice. “I feel protective of the people in these caverns.”

Oskar runs his tongue over his teeth as he gives her a hard look. “And you think I don’t?”

She looks away. “I know you do.”

“You trust her?” asks a boy about Oskar’s age, jabbing his finger at me. He’s lean, with a wary look in his gray eyes, and he’s got a bundle of stained rags tucked beneath his arm. He leaves Oskar’s side to stand by Luukas.

“Veikko,” Oskar says to his lean friend, “when I found her, she was as close to death as one can come.” Oskar stands close enough for me to see the goose bumps on his throat. Cold rolls from him like waves on the Motherlake, but it doesn’t make me shiver like a stiff wind from the outside might. Like I experienced when Raimo attempted to heal me, this cold is something I understand with my mind, though my body appears immune to it. What I am not immune to: the weary, miserable look on Oskar’s face as he continues to speak to Veikko. “The lash marks on Elli’s back were worse than any I’ve seen, save one.”

Veikko, who I recall is Luukas’s son—and a wielder—bites his lip and looks me up and down. “Aye. I remember,” he mumbles. “And we’ve got bigger problems anyway.”

Luukas slaps his son on the back. “Did you find out anything in the city?”

Aira sits back on her heels as she wipes the dough from her hands with a damp rag. “I thought the constables had plugged up the hole in the city wall. You found another way in?”

Veikko smiles, revealing a slight gap between his two front teeth that gives him a charmingly roguish air. “Made another one. It connects to an alley next to the Lantinen road. You have to crawl through a refuse pile, but it makes the opening hard to see.” He gestures at his wet brown hair and waves the stained rags—which I assume are his dirty clothes—at Aira, who wrinkles her nose.

Luukas squeezes Veikko’s shoulder. “And? Are we going to have a good winter—or a bad one?”

Veikko’s smile disappears. “The whole town’s talking about it,” he says in a hollow voice. “How the ground is freezing and gardens are dead. And all the priests are saying is that the new Valtia has requested a postponement of the coronation so that she may mourn the death of the old Valtia.”

My stomach drops.

Oskar frowns. “Has that ever happened before?”

The cloudy-eyed woman shakes her head. “But maybe the old Valtia’s not really dead.” Her doughy hands flutter over the trough. “I think the elders made up the whole Soturi invasion story to cover up a takeover. They’ve got the Valtia in chains somewhere. Doing bad things to her.” Her voice rises. “Mark my words—it’s the elders who’re in charge now. They were just biding their time!”

The way everybody’s avoiding looking at her, I’m thinking this isn’t her first outburst. Maarika gently nudges the woman with her shoulder. “Josefina, hush. The Valtia’s too powerful for that.”

Josefina shakes her head, her grayish-yellow hair swinging around her face. “The Saadella’s probably locked up too,” she says in a choked voice. “The elders would do it. They would.” She leans against Maarika like she’s about to collapse, and Oskar’s mother holds the older woman, though Maarika’s forehead is sheened with sweat. I look closely at Josefina, wondering if she wields fire, especially when Aira winces and moves away, plucking at her tunic like she’s trying to draw some cold air toward her.

“I was in the city when the Valtia’s death was announced,” I venture. “The elders went out in search of the new Saadella. They wouldn’t do that if the old Valtia were still alive.”

“That’s true—they venture out every day, trying to find her,” says Veikko. “They’re offering a fortune if her family gives her up. They’ve doubled the reward.” His eyes find Oskar’s. “But then what’s wrong with the new Valtia? The air is bitter with cold! Why isn’t she giving us warmth?”

I look up at Oskar. “You feel it here in the outlands?”

He gives me a small smile. “Not nearly as much as in the city, I imagine. We have real winter out here, but she’s kept the harshest cold away until this year.”

Guilt rises unbidden inside me. Oskar needs that warmth. He’s suffering without it. Aira stands up and approaches his other side. She rubs her hand down his arm. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

I feel a twinge in my chest as I watch her fingers slide over his sleeve, wishing I could be offering him something too.

“What if . . . ,” Aira begins. “What if the new Valtia died of grief? What if that’s why there’s no warmth?”

“That’s another one of the rumors,” says Veikko, moving a little closer to Aira, like he’s hoping she’ll touch him, too. I think she’s a fire wielder, and she’s giving off heat, though I can barely feel it. “The people are demanding to know why there’s been no funeral for the old Valtia, and no coronation for the new one either. It’s not good—especially because there have apparently been sightings of longships off the southeast coast.”