And trips to the outlands must be exhausting, riding for hours over the hilly, rough terrain, having to constantly be on guard for bandits or, stars forbid, the vicious and brutal northern warriors who stab at our shores, seeking plunder.
“She wants to help the farmers, though,” I say, my brow furrowing. How terrible she must feel, having to choose between her people and her health. Then I smile as an idea hits me. “Are we compensating the farmers for their losses?” I ask. “We have plenty of copper—I’ve seen the acolytes wheel it in. Surely we have enough, and it is more valuable than the bronze coins in the town. If she is concerned about the confidence of the people, maybe we could—”
Kauko makes a quiet sound of disapproval that silences me. “My dear, when you are on the throne, we will discuss all of this, but forgive me when I say that right now you are talking of things you do not understand.”
I flush with the reprimand, and Kauko’s frown softens. “I realize that all your ideas and questions sprout from the best intentions,” he says. “And I will speak with the Valtia about ways she can reduce the raids and bolster the confidence of the people while maintaining her health. I will also tell her you are concerned for her.” He winks. “And in a few days, you can tell her yourself!”
I nearly bounce on my heels as I think of the upcoming harvest ceremony. I haven’t spoken to my Valtia in months. “I certainly will. I want her to be with us for years to come.” Everyone knows that Valtias fade young, but Kauko makes it sound like it is possible to live longer if care is taken. And I want my Valtia to take care—not just because I love her, though I do, with every shred of my soul—because I fear I will never meet the standard she has set as our queen. “I—I feel as if I won’t be ready for a very long time,” I add quietly. “If I ever disappointed our people . . .” Even the thought puts a lump in my throat.
Kauko gives me the most kindly smile. “I am going to tell you something very important,” he says. “I was going to wait, but it seems like you need to hear it now.”
I stare at him, his smooth face and silly-looking lips, his merry eyes. “What is it?”
“All Valtias are powerful, but not all equally so. Some burn bright and fade quickly, while others are more steady, strong but muted. We never know what kind of Valtia we will have until the magic enters a Saadella. Except with you.”
I have the strange urge to claw at my stockings to peek at the red flame mark that paints my left calf with its numb scarlet tendrils, the one that appeared at the moment of the last Valtia’s death—when I was only four years old. “What do you mean?”
“There is a prophecy,” he says, glancing up and down the hall. “One made hundreds of years ago.”
“Yes?” I whisper.
His bald scalp is beaded with sparkles of sweat in the light of the torches that line the walls. “When we found you in that shabby little cottage by the city wall, too skinny for your own good, we made sure to check the town register for the day and season of your birth, and the exact position of the stars in the sky on that very day. It matches what was foretold precisely.” He grasps both my arms, giving me a little shake, as if to force this knowledge into me, to make sure I believe. “When the magic leaves our current queen and enters you, Elli, you will become the most powerful Valtia who has ever existed.”
CHAPTER 2
From my balcony, the Motherlake appears infinite. She stretches vast and powerful to the horizon, where she kisses the sky. Trout and razorfin teem beneath her blue skin, all shimmering power and motion, but from here, she looks serene and perfect. She keeps her secrets well.
I lean forward, letting the cool breeze toss my long, coppery hair around my face. In a few hours, I must be flawless and composed, but I’m not on display quite yet. Right now I’m just Elli, and for the moment, it’s enough. I spread my arms and pretend I’m flying.
From behind me comes a startled laugh. “You’re making my job much harder,” says Mim, but her tone is fond. I whirl around and grin at her. Her blue eyes, just a shade darker than mine, sparkle with excitement. She’s already dressed in her finest gown and pulled her brown hair into a braided coil. I love the tiny curls that swirl at the nape of her neck. At twenty, she could have found a handsome man to marry by now, but she’s been serving me since she was a little girl, chosen by the elders for her sweet and patient temperament.
I know she feels honored to serve me. Sometimes, though, I wish—
“The Valtia and her handmaiden will be here any minute,” she says, gesturing inside. “Can we start the preparations now, or are you determined to let the wind knot your hair some more?”
I slap my hand over the top of my head. “Oh no—is it a tangled mess?”