The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(70)
It almost sounds like they’re screaming my name.
Behind me, there’s a rumble of thunder. Another blast of breeze, but this one is warm. And the trees are still screaming through the roar of the wind. I look to my left and catch a flash of movement amid the tree trunks.
The thunder becomes the clomp-clomp of hooves. I gasp and whirl around. Two men on horseback are racing toward me. I stumble back as one of them raises a club—the kind carried by the constables. I turn to run, but my head explodes with agony and I fall. My vision blurs as I open my eyes to a cloaked figure striding toward me. He tosses his hood back to reveal white-blond hair and dark-brown eyes.
“Is this her, Jouni?” Sig asks, leaning over me. I try to scoot away from him, but my head throbs and it’s all I can do not to retch. Something sticky and warm drips into my ear.
“That’s her,” Jouni says in his deep, buzzing voice.
Sig grins, and his eyes flicker with the flames of war. “Excellent.”
CHAPTER 18
I slap at Sig’s face as he reaches for me, but Jouni dismounts his horse and coils a thick hemp rope around my body, pinning my arms to my sides. Sig swings himself into the saddle, and Jouni bundles me up to join him. I kick and claw, but I’m so dizzy that I can barely hold my head up.
“I’m sorry I had to hit you,” Sig says, his breath hot against my ear as he anchors his arm around my waist. “I needed to catch you by surprise, seeing as I’m not eager to have my skin burned off.” I feel a poke at my side and catch the flash of a blade in the sunlight. “But if I feel you trying, I’ll be ready.”
With that, he spurs the horse into motion, and it’s all I can do not to vomit. My brain rattles in my skull and my stomach roils. Hooves pound the trail below me. Sig’s arm is a bronze bar against my middle, and his chest is like a furnace against my back. Wind smacks at my face and tangles my hair. I don’t know which direction they’re taking me or how long we’ve been riding or what time it is, but I wish I could close my eyes and make it all stop.
Finally, I’m jerked from my stupor as Sig reins in his horse. Blinking in the midday sun, I catch glimpses of sandy dunes and blue sky as he pulls me from the saddle. My head lolls on his shoulder. He carries me along a short path between two dunes, to an open patch of sand. There’s no snow here, and I wonder if the thaw caused that, or if Sig himself melted it all away. A large fire pit occupies the center of the space, and it’s surrounded by sleeping pallets and cooking implements. A young woman, her long, brown hair knotted at the back of her head, is roasting what looks like a hare on a spit. She stares as Sig plops me down on a pallet. I turn my face to the wool blanket, fighting the nausea that bubbles inside me.
“Where are the others?” Jouni asks.
“I sent them into the city last night to fetch some supplies and information,” says Sig, squatting next to me. “Yesterday morning I got word that the priests opened up the temple, and I wanted to know what was happening.” He pats my shoulder. “But maybe now we know. It didn’t even occur to me when I saw you the first time. Elli, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not the Valtia,” I say with a moan.
“I told you she’d say that,” says Jouni. “But I saw the mark myself. Take a look if you doubt me.”
Sig chuckles. “I doubt everyone.” His hand slides down my hip but pauses over my pocket, and his fingers dip inside. He comes up holding my carved wooden dove. His gaze traces its wings as my fingers flex with want—it’s all I have left of Oskar. “Oh, my,” he says in a low voice. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time.”
His eyes meet mine, full of speculation and a darkness that I don’t know how to translate. The bird looks so fragile, held between his pale fingers. I drink in the sight of it, expecting him to snap its wings off and toss it into the fire. Then, slowly, he slips it back into my pocket. I have no time to feel relief, though, because he pulls up the bottom of my gown. “Which leg?”
“Don’t touch me,” I whisper.
“Left,” Jouni says.
Sig’s warm fingers are on my thigh, and I clench my fists, wishing I could stop him as he slides my stocking down, past my knee, along my calf, and reveals the blood-flame mark. He whistles and pulls my skirt over my legs again. “How did you manage to hide yourself for so long?”
“Because I’m not the Valtia. I know I have all the marks, but I swear I’m not her.”
Sig purses his lips. “Then how did you manage to encase so many men, a fair number of them magic wielders, in a giant block of ice?”
Jouni laughs. “And then she got Oskar of all people to take the blame.”
Sig’s head jerks up. “What?”
Jouni’s smile evaporates. “Oskar. He was with her. Bragged that he—”
“Oskar would never brag, especially about something like that,” Sig snaps. “You didn’t mention he was there.”
Jouni slides his cap off his disheveled reddish-blond hair. “I didn’t think it was important. You told me he had ice magic, but I’ve never seen him do anything with it.”
“That’s not because he can’t.” Sig plops down in the sand next to my pallet, frowning. “He was protecting her, Jouni, either because of who she is—or who she’s not. I need to know which it is, though.” His eyes flare with light, and he shoves off the ground. His arms hanging loose at his sides, he takes a few steps back and throws off his cloak. Beneath it, he wears no tunic, only trousers and boots. He spreads his fingers, and twin spheres of flame burst from nothing and hover a few inches from his palms.