The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(48)

Luukas goes pale. “From Vasterut?” He shakes his head. “We’d better hope the Motherlake freezes soon. Those Soturi bastards haven’t given up. The Valtia may have destroyed part of their navy, but those weren’t the only forces they’ve got.”

“How do you know?” I ask. “How big is their empire, and what do they want?” These were all questions the priests dismissed, telling me I would know when I was ready, when I truly needed the information.

Luukas laughs. “What do they want? Copper. Grain. Meat. Slaves. Anything they can take. For the last fifteen years or so, they’ve been worrying our coastline, a few more raids every year, but nothing more than that. Until they took Vasterut, I would have said they were just a cluster of disorganized tribes, not an empire.”

“But whatever they were before, now they have an eye for conquest,” I say quietly. I remember when the news arrived at the temple, reaching me through Mim’s clever ears and eyes—the Vasterutian envoy begged for the Valtia’s help, but the elders turned him away without giving him an audience.

“Aye,” says Veikko. “We should have known they’d come for us next.”

“But the Valtia laid waste to their navy.” I wiggle the sore fingers of my right hand within my sleeve, remembering the rolling waves and crashing thunder . . . and Mim, holding me through it all. “Surely that will make them think twice before trying again.”

“Not if they realize we have no Valtia,” says Oskar, staring into the hearth.

“With no Valtia, we might as well offer ourselves up as slaves right now,” Josefina wails, running her hands, coated with sticky brown dough, through her hair. “The priests won’t save us. They’ve only ever been out for themselves.”

“And we have no army,” adds Luukas. He shakes his head. “I never thought I’d say it, but I hope the elders in the temple have a plan.”

“Oh, they do,” Josefina whispers, her hair in matted clumps around her face. “They always do.” She begins to sob, and Maarika puts her arm around the forlorn woman and helps her to her feet, then guides her toward a small shelter near the front of the cavern.

I swallow hard as I watch them go. Josefina’s right about one thing—the elders are in charge now. But the Kupari need a Valtia. With everything inside me, I wish I was her. I was supposed to be. And if I had been, the people, even these strange cave dwellers, would be safer.

But I’m nothing.

I take a few steps toward the back tunnel, desperation filling my hollow chest. “I—I need to—” Thinking of an excuse is too much, so I wave my arm toward the tunnel and blunder forward, my vision blurred with tears. I have to find Raimo. I need him to tell me what I can do. If I’m supposed to make a difference, what is it? I exist for the people—that was etched onto my heart every day I was the Saadella. Raimo insisted that nothing has changed. So how can I stand by while everything crumbles?

Before I know it, I’ve run past the relief chamber, past the cavern that contains the freezing stream the dwellers use to wash their clothes and bodies, and turned the corner to reach the tunnel that leads to Raimo’s lair. Without torches, the way is dense and inky black. My slippers slide on wet rocks, and my panting breaths are harsh in my ears.

“Elli!” Oskar’s voice echoes down the tunnel. Orange firelight beats back the darkness. “What in stars are you doing?”

I lean against the rough, cool tunnel wall as he draws near, the flames from his torch making our shadows dance. “I need to find Raimo,” I say, my voice cracking.

His brows draw together. “Are you ill?”

I shake my head. But then I remember that I’m not supposed to tell Oskar anything about myself, so I nod.

“Well, which is it?” He’s shivering in the dank air of this tunnel.

“I—I—wanted to ask him . . . about my . . .” I hold up my right hand.

He lifts the torch and peers at my palm. “The blisters?”

I pull my hand back and gaze at the torn skin and toughening calluses. “No.” The pain of them is satisfying. It means I’ve worked hard. “It’s actually—” I gesture at my scarred knuckles and say the first thing that comes to me. “You’d think, once they’d been cut off, that they’d really be gone. That I wouldn’t feel them anymore. But the opposite is true.” My voice has become a strangled squeak. “They hurt me more now than they ever did when they were part of me.”

I’m not just talking about my fingers, I realize. I’m talking about my life. Mim. Sofia. My future. My duty. All sheared away, all haunting me.

Oskar’s eyes are dark as he moves closer. He offers his embrace hesitantly, like he thinks I might shy away. But I’m so wretched that I accept it, leaning my head on his chest and grimacing, my eyes squeezed shut, the pain of all my ghosts overwhelming me. He strokes my long hair and shushes me as if I were a child. “I didn’t know you were in so much pain,” he says quietly. “You seemed to be doing so well.”

“I need Raimo.” My hands ball in Oskar’s tunic. I wish I could lay all of this across his broad shoulders, because I am so tired of carrying it alone. “Raimo sent me away too soon. He has answers that I need.”

“You won’t find him now, Elli. He disappears every winter, and has for as long as I’ve known him. If I thought it was possible to find him, I’d take you to him myself.”