The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)

No one answered. Or maybe her hearing had abandoned her, all her senses dropping off one by one, touch and sight, scent and sound. A roaring filled her mind, like an autumn gale on the Motherlake, mighty and relentless. The pain welled up, engulfing her. No, please. Not yet. One more—


When the power tore itself loose, it took everything with it except for one image: a little girl with coppery hair and pale-blue eyes. She was too blurry to make out—even as Kaarin tried to focus, her vision doubled, creating two wavering, overlapping faces in the fog. Still, she knew exactly who the little girl was, and what was about to happen to her.

Then the last shreds of ice and fire slipped free without a fight, for Kaarin had no strength left to hold on to them. The darkness was complete. The magic was gone. And so was she.





CHAPTER 1


The heart lies before me, still, colorful, and more mysterious than I want it to be. I lean over the diagram etched onto the scroll, trying to memorize it all at once. The main vessel that carries the blood to the rest of the body is marked in red ink, and I slide my fingertip across the label. Valtimo. I like the word. It’s vital and meaty. “Elder Kauko, are the vessels in a loop, somehow? How does the blood know when it is time to return to the heart?”

Elder Kauko, seated next to me at this sturdy table laden with scrolls depicting livers, brains, all the bones of the hand and fingers, and so many other fascinating things, adjusts his robe over his round belly. “You are so clever, Elli. Yes, it is like a loop. The blood never leaves the vessels, merely travels through the tunnels until it passes through the heart again.”

I frown. “Why, though? Why is it so important, if all it does is flow through our veins? What does it do?”

He smiles. When I was little, his lips used to fascinate me; they stick out like two grubs pasted to his pale face. “The blood is life itself. It carries warmth to the limbs and strength to the muscles.”

My fingers trace the path of the blood into the lungs. “And what about magic? Does the blood carry magic throughout the body too?”

The elder lets out a breath as if I’ve elbowed him, then starts to chuckle. “Magic is more complicated than that.”

I blow a strand of my hair off my forehead, frustration warming my skin. “I know it’s not simple, but if the blood is life . . .” I glance at the elder, who waits patiently for my thought to form. “When magic leaves a Valtia, she dies. So it seems as if magic is life too. And if that’s true, then—”

He puts up his hands, as if in surrender. “My dear Saadella, magic infuses the wielder. It is everywhere within her.”

I tap the diagram. “Including the blood?”

“Yes, yes. Including the blood. But—”

“Can you distill the magic from the blood, then? Will it separate like oil from water if it sits out overnight? Have you ever—”

The elder starts to laugh, his belly wobbling. “Darling child, do you ever stop? Some things simply are, and it is best to be at peace with that.”

“And magic is one of them,” I say slowly. How many times have I heard that from my tutors? “But where does it come from, Elder? I know the Valtia’s magic passes to the Saadella, but what about the other wielders?”

Elder Kauko nudges my hand, which has now curled around the edge of the scroll, and in my eagerness, crumpled the paper. “We never know how it chooses a wielder.” He taps the tip of my nose with his index finger. “We only know it chooses wisely.”

I smooth my fingers over the wrinkled paper. “But when I had my geography lesson with priest Eljas the other day, he told me the Kupari are the only people in the world with magic. So why did it choose us?”

“Why did it choose us?” He gestures toward the corridor that leads to the grand domed chamber of our temple. “Because we serve it and keep it well, and . . .” He bows his head and lets out a huff of quiet laughter. “It just did, my Saadella. But I, for one, am not surprised. There is no better people than the Kupari, none stronger or purer of heart.”

Like I so often do in my lessons, I feel as if I am banging against a closed door, begging entrance. “But if that’s true, and we should all be at peace that the magic chose us, then why do all the priests spend their days studying it? What are they trying to figure out?” I point to the deep shelves of scrolls in Kauko’s personal library. He is the physician, but he is also an elder, one of the more powerful magic wielders in this temple. “I know these texts aren’t only about anatomy. When will you teach me about the actual magic?”

He sweeps his hand over the open scroll. “We teach you things every day, child!”