The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(51)
“But why would the priests care so much?” asks Aira. “Seems like the city council should be more worried.”
“Because copper is—” Suddenly I realize I’ve stepped out onto some of the thinnest ice imaginable. Aira, Ismael, and Veikko are giving me equally curious looks. “I . . . was in a bakery fetching buns for my mistress’s breakfast and overheard one of the temple scullery maids saying that copper is the source of the Kupari magic.”
“Heard Raimo say as much once,” says Ismael, nearly making me sag in relief as the others turn their attention to him. But then he adds, “But how do you know the elders are worried about a shortage, Elli?”
My face burns with my fear of having revealed too much. “M-my master in town . . . he had recently done business with one of the elders and . . . he had dined in the temple. Apparently it came up. I overheard him telling my mistress that night.”
“You overhear a great many interesting things,” Aira says, her rosy lips curled with suspicion.
“It makes sense, though,” says Veikko. “Those miners were desperate to gain access to our caves. And they’ll be back.”
Ismael looks slightly sick. “And they might bring priests, seeing as they have a stake in the copper too.” He glances over my shoulder, into the main cave, where dozens of families are going about the business of daily life. “I suppose we might be thankful for a bit of the upheaval in the town. I hope it keeps all of them busy for some time to come.”
“It may not be enough,” says Veikko. “I overheard two of the constables near the gate, telling quite a story.” He leans forward, clutching his fur cloak around him as an icy breeze gusts around us. “One claimed that a priest had sent him a message—asking him to be on the lookout for the Valtia.”
A brutal chill runs hard down my back, but Aira lets out a peal of laughter. “What? As if she’d be roaming the streets?”
Veikko shrugs. “They said she’d gone mad with grief and run away. They think she might have escaped into the outlands.”
I think I’m going to vomit all over the stones at my feet. “That’s insane,” I say loudly. “How could she even do that?” I clear my throat to chase away the quaver in my voice. “She’d be recognized immediately.”
Ismael nods. “Maybe. Hard to see how she could hide herself, especially if she wasn’t in her right mind. A bit scary to think about, if you ask me.”
“Exactly,” says Veikko.
Aira rolls her eyes. “You can’t hide that much magic.”
Oskar’s face flashes in my mind. “I agree,” I say quickly. “Especially if she’s unbalanced. It sounds like that constable was playing a trick on his friend.”
Freya laughs. “The stories coming out of that city are crazier every week. Come on, Elli. We need to get going or we won’t be back before dark.”
I can’t get away fast enough. I pull my cloak tight around me as we hike up the trail, as if it could protect me from my own fears. We walk all the way up the steep trail to the marshlands before turning west and journeying to a small copse of trees on a hill that overlooks the Motherlake. The whole time, I’m trying to convince myself that I was right, that the constable was playing a cruel joke. Surely the elders assume I’m dead. Surely they’ve let me go. Surely they’ve realized I’m not the real Valtia? But then I remember what Raimo said: They never figured it out! I swallow back dread as I gather dry twigs.
The sunlight is fading, and the frigid air bites at my cheeks. It might not have snowed yet, but winter has sunk its teeth deep. I’ve never felt cold like I have in the past few weeks. In the temple, it was always pleasantly warm or cool. But now I understand how lucky we all were—my fingers feel so stiff that I’m sure my blood is turning to ice, and the stumps of my pinkie and ring finger tingle sharply and painfully.
“So, what’s your theory?” Freya asks after we pile our baskets full and begin the trek to the caverns.
“My theory?”
“About the old Valtia. Do you think she’s dead?”
The pang of grief knifes through me. “Yes,” I murmur. “I think she’s dead.”
“I’m not sure. If she is, then wouldn’t the new Valtia have shown herself to the people? Do you think she really went mad?”
There’s that urge to vomit again. “Why do people out here care about that so much?” I blurt out. “Is it just the warmth? That’s all the Valtia does for the outlands, right?”
Freya is silent, and when I look over at her, she’s scowling. “We’re Kupari too,” she says, her voice shaking. “Just because we’re out here doesn’t mean we’re not.”
I blanch at having offended her, remembering Sofia’s disagreement with the elders about entering the outlands to be seen by her subjects beyond the city walls. “Of course you’re Kupari! I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“But everyone in the city thinks we’re criminals, right? That’s what the miners called us that day they came to tell us to leave. Thieves. They painted us all with one brush.” Her lips pull tight. “I’m glad Sig set them on fire!”
I stare at her with wide eyes. “And how did Sig set them on fire?”