The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(78)
Jaspar and Nisse smile, and they look very much alike in this moment. “Perfect, Ansa,” Nisse says. “I know you will make us proud.”
*
I lose count of how many times Kauko has to heal me in the following days. Fortunately, he’s very good at it, and since he does it as soon as the ice or fire sinks its fangs into me, my skin is restored quickly and completely.
It doesn’t save me from the pain. But warriors can endure pain.
Halina stays with us to translate, but Kauko learns the basics of our language quickly and does his best to speak to me directly. He brings Sig into the chamber in which we practice, but it seems he does it mostly to keep an eye on him. The deranged apprentice usually sits in a corner, his collar untied and hanging wide, revealing the scarring down his pale, sweaty chest. His eyes burn as he watches me. Sometimes he seems amused, laughing at jokes that only he hears, but sometimes his gaze is so full of hatred that I swear I see flames in his eyes. Kauko ignores him, mostly, but Halina speaks to him as Kauko works with me, her voice gentle and motherly.
First, Kauko teaches me to breathe, because apparently I haven’t been, at least not when the magic is rising inside. Instead, I’ve been holding my breath and letting it out in gusts, unsteady and sudden. So I breathe and breathe and breathe as I bring the fire and ice up, little by little. It helps, but I still lose control often, requiring Kauko to intervene. Sig sits in his corner and sweats—I think he enjoys when my ice fills the room. He tilts his head back and sighs.
“The boy has fire inside him,” Halina says to me one morning. “It tortures him. Day and night.”
“He told you that?”
She shakes her head. “Isn’t it obvious, though?”
When next I see him, I think cold thoughts and let them blow his way, and he blinks at me, like kindness surprises him.
Next, Kauko teaches me to focus. “If you don’t, it spreads everywhere,” Halina translates as the elder sets up a row of stone water basins along a table. “You have to have a goal.”
He instructs me to freeze the water in specific basins while leaving the others untouched. I try, but when I glare at the water, it turns to steam as often as it does to ice, and usually all the basins are affected instead of just one. We spend days on this, and I show little improvement. Nisse comes to watch one afternoon.
“We’re halfway through the winter,” he says to me. “When do you think you might be able to wield as you did before?”
Before was one moment, an invitation that couldn’t be rescinded, when I hurled fire and ice like spears—until they turned on me. “I don’t know.”
He smiles and nods, but there’s an impatient snap to his stride as he summons Halina and crosses the room to talk to Kauko.
“Please, sir,” Halina says, bowing her head as she stands before Nisse. “I’ve had an idea.”
Nisse raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching with amusement. “You have?”
She gestures at Kauko. “He has said that many of his priests and apprentices fled to the Loputon wood.”
Nisse nods. “A miracle if any of them survived. I lost two warriors there—they went to hunt and never returned! It bears the stink of a cursed place.”
“I know a few trappers who can move through it as easily as our city streets.” She glances at me, and the cunning in her eyes sends a tremor through me. “With little red still struggling, perhaps you could pursue other options.” She holds her hands out, palms facing each other. “Two parallel paths. Either will lead to where you want to go.”
But only one will bring me the acceptance of my tribe again. I stare at her, betrayal choking me.
Nisse must read the clammy panic on my face. His smile is kindly as he pats Halina on the shoulder. “I happen to have a great deal of faith in—what did you call her? Little red?” He laughs. “You Vasterutians and your pet names. It’s charming.”
Halina bows her head again and meekly translates as Nisse begins to speak with Kauko about what might be the best material to acquire for my new tunic and cloak, so that I will look fearsome when we invade—the Krigere version of a Valtia.
Relief and gratitude nearly buckles my knees. He’s not giving up on me . . . yet.
Sig lets out a quiet chuckle, and I turn to see him watching me. With a smirk, he points to the nearest torch, and a tendril of flame sprouts from its center, spiraling into the room like a ribbon. I gape at it as it snakes prettily toward me. Sig swirls his finger, and the flame obeys, following its motion with loving attention. He stares at it with such devotion, a melancholy wistfulness that makes my chest ache as I watch.
“I wish I could control it like that,” I say. And I’d better learn quickly.
Sig opens his palm, and the fire jumps into it, forming a ball that grows until it’s nearly the size of a shield. I take a step back as sweat streams down his cheeks and chest, wishing for cold to temper the flame. The fireball shrinks a bit, but my cold wind fills the entire room and draws the others’ attention.
“Sig!” Kauko shouts. He jabs his hand forward, and Sig makes a choking sound as his back slams against the stone wall, his face cherry red with heat. Despite his apparent love for fire, he’s very sensitive to it.
“Did he hurt you, Ansa?” Nisse asks, running toward me.
“No, not at all,” I say, wincing as blisters cover Sig’s handsome face. “I think he was just showing me.”