The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(75)
I put my hand over Sig’s and move it off my thigh. “You already know he told me that he’s a Suurin. Oskar isn’t sure what it means, though.”
“Because he doesn’t want to know. When I realized Raimo understood, I made the old man teach me everything.”
“Like what? Oskar doesn’t believe his magic can be controlled.”
Sig groans. “Because he spends all his time trying to cram it down instead of learning to use it! A wielder can’t be truly good unless he has both power and control, and Oskar has one but not the other. He thinks he’s a danger—and he’s right.”
“And you’re not?”
“Of course I am—because I choose to be. There are so many ways to wield, but most wielders can only do a little dull, diffuse magic. Like heating or cooling the air or water. If they practice, they can learn to focus that into blade magic—like channeling all the fire or ice you have into a smaller area.”
Like when Sig melted a tiny patch of sand to glass. “You can actually wield ice or fire like a blade?”
Sig laughs. “If you work at it. But if you’ve only got a little magic, it’s like fighting with a toothpick.” He looks over his shoulder at me and winks. “I’ve got a broadsword at my disposal.”
I look away. “How nice for you.” We’re moving slowly up the northern road toward the city. Only a few miles to go.
“Better than being unable to protect myself,” Sig says, his voice hard.
“I think Oskar is perfectly capable of protecting himself.”
“Oskar has never faced a skilled wielder.”
Until this morning, when he faced seven of them. But I’m still wondering how much I had to do with that, so I don’t remind Sig of it. “He doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” I murmur.
“Then he should learn how to control it! He probably doesn’t even know the difference between manifesting and wielding. Only those with a lot of magic can manifest. None of the cave dwellers could do it—except for me and Raimo.” Sig sticks out his palm, and the fire bursts forth, swirling orange and bright without fuel of any kind. Jouni, riding next to us, stares at it, then clenches his jaw and spurs his horse ahead of us. Sig chuckles. “Jouni can only wield—he needs an existing flame if he wants to throw actual fire. I think it makes him feel like less of a man.”
Jouni looks back at the two of us, his face red. The temperature rises, and Sig blows out a shaky breath. “Sorry, Jouni. No offense,” calls Sig, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. I could siphon that heat if he allowed it, but I know he never would. Jouni faces forward again and the heat lifts.
“You think Oskar can manifest ice? I’ve never seen him do that.” I’ve only seen him freeze things. And when we killed the priests, he pulled the ice and snow and water from everywhere around us and used it to crush them.
Sig snorts. “Have you ever seen him when he’s asleep? He manifests without even trying.”
“You’re right.” I remember all the nights I’ve watched the ice forming from nothing, creeping along his skin and enclosing him. “I didn’t know that’s what was happening.”
“Oskar and I are blessed and cursed. Each of us bears half the magic of the Valtia. We can do so much—but without any of the other element, we can’t do some things other powerful wielders can do. We can’t move objects easily, because you need both hot and cold magic for that.” His muscles tense. “And we don’t have the power to heal. If the Valtia is balance, we’re the opposite.”
“How does that much unbalanced magic not destroy you?” I ask. And then I think of Oskar, ice coating his skin, turning his lips gray. It was destroying him.
Sig is quiet for a few moments before saying, “Neither of us will live to be old men. Raimo told me that a long time ago, when I went to him for help. He said the Suurin are weapons. He trained me, and I’ve made the most of what I’ve learned. He said war is coming, and that’s why we exist.”
He told me a war was coming too. “Did you ask him how he knows?”
“When I did, he waved a torn parchment in front of my face and cackled about how everything was coming together. I think it was some kind of prophecy.”
Realization jolts through me. “A prophecy . . . Raimo’s had it this whole time.” And he told me he’d been waiting. “Did he tell you more about what it predicted?”
Sig’s fingers twine in the reins. “He didn’t have to. I’ve always known who my enemy was. And if I’m a weapon, I’m also the wielder. No one else will ever control me.”
He spurs the horse forward, and we pass Jouni, Usko, and Tuuli, each with hoods low and knives at their belts. Five others ride behind them, refugees who escaped the temple or the city so many years ago, all willing to follow Sig wherever he goes. The Kupari city lies up ahead. I can now see the high wooden arch of the eastern gate. Inside, our fate awaits us.
When we get to the gate, the same black-toothed, black-haired constable is on duty. There’s a fear in his eyes that wasn’t there the last time I saw him. I don’t breathe until his gaze slides over me with only the barest interest. I wonder if I look different after weeks of winter cave dwelling.
Sig tells him we’re hunters bearing gifts for the new Valtia, eager to celebrate her coronation. As proof, Usko and Tuuli ride up, their horses laden with pelts. I try not to think of who they must have stolen from. Those hunters are probably lying burned or frozen deep in the north woods. It makes bile rise in my throat.