The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(6)

Aleksi, clad in his black priest’s robe, stands beside the copper-inlaid sedan. “Negotiate? My queen, remember who we’re dealing with.”

“Human beings, I assume,” says the Valtia.

Aleksi looks as if he’s harboring a thousand angry words in that swell of flesh beneath his chin. Judging by the way his thin lips are pressed tight together, he’s fighting to hold them inside. He gives me a cursory bow.

“My Saadella,” he says as he straightens. “Forgive me for intruding on your preparations.” He turns to the Valtia’s chair and addresses one of the veiled windows. “The raids have made the farmers restless, and now the miners—”

“Tell them to mine somewhere else for the time being.”

Though his jowls quiver, his mouth barely moves as he speaks. “My Valtia, they claim there is nowhere else.”

“What?” My queen’s voice has sharpened.

Aleksi looks over at me and Mim. “We can speak more tonight,” he says as he turns back to her. “We must make a decision after the harvest ceremony—”

“After the harvest ceremony, I will be dining with my Saadella, as I do every year,” she replies, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ll meet with the elders in the morning and no sooner.”

Aleksi clenches his fist, then gives Mim and me a sidelong glance and tucks his hand into the folds of his robe. He chuckles, a sound as dank as the catacombs. “Of course, my Valtia.” With a swish of his flabby hand, he dismisses the acolytes, who bow their way out the door to join the others in the grand domed chamber of our temple, where today’s procession will begin. “We’ll await your arrival with eagerness.”

As soon as Aleksi exits, the Valtia’s handmaiden steps around the other side of the sedan chair. Helka, a stout woman with a deep dimple in her chin, shakes her head as she pushes aside the veil at the front of the chair. “You were patient with him,” she mutters, opening the half door to allow the Valtia to step out.

As our queen’s slippered foot touches the sanctified ground of our chamber, Mim and I sink to our knees. I lower my forehead to the floor, the marble cool against my skin.

“Enough. You’re not an acolyte,” the Valtia says with a musical laugh. “I haven’t seen you in months, Elli. Get up off the floor and let me look at you.”

I grin as I rise, but my happiness turns to ice when I see her face. The apprentices were correct—she is pale. Her cheeks are hollow, and there are dark circles beneath her blue eyes. She looks as if she’s been carved out with a dull blade, all pointy elbows and sharp collarbones.

I force my uneasiness down and look at her with all the admiration she deserves.

Her full lips curve into a loving smile as she beckons to me. “Come here, darling. Stars, you’re so lovely. Can you really be sixteen already? You’ve become a woman in the last year!” She holds out her arms, and I eagerly rush into her embrace, leaning my cheek against the soft wool of her cream-colored gown. She strokes my face, her fingertips pulsing with warm affection. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you, too, my Valtia,” I mumble, squeezing her tight, trying to ignore the hard outline of her ribs against my arms. It doesn’t matter that I see her so rarely—she is my true mother. I’ve been told that the connection between the Valtia and the Saadella is as deep and fundamental as the veins of copper in the earth, but that doesn’t begin to describe it. From the moment she took me in her arms, I knew I belonged to her.

We pull apart, and she takes my face in her hands. I’m as tall as she is now. Her hair is a perfect copper coil on the top of her head, ready to hold her crown in place. “Shall we prepare to be seen by our people?” she asks.

“I’m ready.” My voice shakes with excitement, but also nerves.

Our handmaidens arrange our chairs in front of the wide copper mirror, and Mim sets back to work on my hair as Helka prepares the Valtia’s ceremonial makeup.

“Aleksi seemed frustrated,” I venture. “More trouble in the outlands?”

Mim clears her throat, and my mouth snaps shut. I’m not supposed to know about any of that.

Helka, her graying blond hair twisted in a bun like Mim’s, blows a loose strand off her forehead. “Such questions,” she says, clucking her tongue. “Can we not leave our Valtia in peace for a few minutes at least?”

The Valtia pats her maid’s hand. “When I’m gone, she’ll be queen, Helka. She can ask me anything she wants.” Her gaze meets mine in the mirror as Mim begins to plait another section of my hair. “From all reports, it’s been a plentiful year for our farmers.”

“Thanks to you.” She kept the heat from scorching the crops and held back a cold snap that could have killed vulnerable shoots. Our bounty comes to us because of her magic.

Her pale eyes glitter, the same icy blue as mine. “But there have been Soturi raids on some of the farmsteads and cottages, more this year than last, all along the northern coastline. The farmers were already dealing with the criminals who have been banished from the city. They want more protection.”

I grit my teeth. “The Soturi are getting bold.” We don’t know much about them, but perhaps fifteen years ago, they began to cross the Motherlake in their longships, wielding their iron swords, raiding for goods to trade and food to get them through the brutal winter.