Page 112 of North Is the Night
“If you wish. In which language?”
I laugh. “I only speak the one, my lord.”
“Well, we can work on that too.”
I’ve always longed to read. It feels so isolating to know there might be a world of knowledge hidden away inside those inked pages. “Thank you, my lord.”
He pops a few of the cloudberries into his mouth. “And I like to ride.”
I smile, taking a sip of my wine. “A fitting kingly pursuit, I think.”
He narrows his eyes at me again. “You can’t ride either.”
“Your new queen is just a poor woodworker’s daughter, my lord. Your fire-sided stallion was the first horse I ever rode.”
The chair scrapes back as he stands, holding out a hand. “Come.”
I rise. “Where are we going?”
He smiles. Unlike the wretched Witch Queen, it meets his eyes. “I can’t teach you to read in a day, but I can certainly teach you to ride.”
The dead servants scurry with excitement as Tuoni and I stride into the stable courtyard. He’s dressed all in black, the heavy wolf pelt back on his shoulders. I walk at his side, dressed in thick, reindeer-fur boots, a cream woolen dress, and a blue hooded mantle trimmed with white rabbit fur.
The fur tickles my chin as I peer around, noting the way the dead fawn over us. No longer do they slink away like dogs waiting to be kicked. A child bounds forward. A young woman approaches with a tray, offering me a steaming cup of mint tea. This is Tuonela under Tuoni, relaxed and free.
It makes me ache... it makes me hope.
Tuoni steps away, giving orders to the guards in the stable. In moments, the servants lead two horses to us. The first is a menacing dapple-grey charger. The other horse is smaller in frame, more docile, its coat a sleek, snowy white.
Tuoni takes the reins of the smaller horse. “He’s a calm fellow.”
Handing my cup of tea back to the maid, I approach the horse. I let him sniff me, his whiskers tickling my palm. “Hello,” I coo, giving his face a pat. “You’re a pretty thing.”
Tuoni stands by the animal’s shoulder. “Come. Give me your foot.”
Humming with excitement, I step around behind him and grip the supple leather frame of the saddle. Tuoni gives me a boost, helping me settle. He slips my foot into the stirrup. “Keep your heels down, and gather your reins like this.” He shows me the proper hold. “Horses are sensitive. You don’t need a heavy hand or leg to get your way.”
I nod, and he steps away, leaving me on my mount. The snow-white horse stands calm and patient.
Tuoni swings up into his saddle. “Let the horse do the work,” he says over his shoulder, leading the way through the pair of double doors.
“Wait,” I call. “You can’t mean for us to go out there?”
Tuoni just laughs, continuing through the entry courtyard and out through the wide-open palace doors. Sitting atop his horse, the god of death rides boldly into the endless night. Feeling a surge of excitement, I give my mount a little nudge to follow.
We ride for what feels like hours, weaving along the edge of the forest and across meadows. Before long, my mount is cantering over a snowy hill, Tuoni’s charger snorting at my side. The snow crunches under my horse’s hooves as the cold wind blows my hood back. I feel the chill of it on my cheeks. I thought Tuonela was a realm of darkness, but Tuoni is right, there is light if you know where to look. The moon must be full, so the snow glows a little brighter. The light from the palace shines like another kind of sun.
As we ride, we pass many sleeping and wandering dead. There are creatures here too. Eager to greet Tuoni, they approach. A swarm of keijulainen follow us through the trees. They look like little birds made of flame. They flutter around us, teasing and swift. We pass a wolf mother and her cubs. Like Hiiden hevonen, their sides are made of iron, and they have fire in their eyes.
Tuoni slows his horse to a trot as we move into the shadow of a looming hill, and the keijulainen flit away. “Are you well?” he asks, searching my face. “You look cold. Do you wish to return?”
I smile. For the first time since I arrived in Tuonela, I feel free. I feel like the Aina before Kalma, before lonely nights and cursed bread, before Witch Queens and blood oaths. “I am well, my lord. Only thirsty.”
Without hesitation, he swings out of his saddle, tying his horse to a low-hanging branch. I slide off too, gasping in pain as my cold feet hit the ground. Tuoni is under his horse’s neck and at my side, hands on my shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
I smile, wiggling my toes in my boots, feeling them come back to life. “I’m fine.”
He lifts my hood, covering my hair against the cold, his fingers brushing along my jaw.
