Page 138 of North Is the Night
“As you see,” she replies.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You are angry with me.”
She folds her arms across her middle. “I told you to run. You were a fool not to listen.”
“I was trying to save you—”
“You’re a fool! You know nothing. Only Kalma can control her väki.”
“Yes, I know that now. Tuoni told me.”
“When a witch tells you what to do, you do it.”
I turn away from her. “That implies trust first, does it not?”
“You still do not trust me?”
“You know I don’t. Even as you care for me, you have still manipulated me at every turn.”
She gestures to the maids behind her. “Then let these be a gesture of my goodwill.”
The first maid steps forward and opens the lid of her box. Inside are two stacks of gold bangles and a necklace set with green gems.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmur, my fingers brushing over the necklace.
“They’re mine,” Loviatar replies. “Now they are yours. Perhaps, one day, you will pass them down to a daughter of your own.”
I go still as ice floods my veins. A daughter of my own? Gods forbid. I would never seek to bring a child into this darkness. I close my eyes, thinking of the husband who cannot keep his hands off me. I’ve already put myself at too great a risk. I may be a novice in the ways of love, but my mother is a wisewoman. I know well what lovemaking can lead to. Tonight, after the feast, I will go to the kitchens and gather what I need to make a tonic to stop a child from coming. Wild carrot and rue mixed with honey, ground lily root. I must start taking it daily—
“Aina?” The witch waits for me to speak.
Not looking her way, I pluck the bangles from the box. “Thank you.”
She gestures to the other box. “This is a gift from my father.”
I watch as the maid steps forward and opens the larger box. “Oh...”
It’s a crown.Mycrown. It rests on a velvet cushion, a delicate thing of pale white wood. The points where the wood meet are soldered with melted gold. At the front of the crown, a large amber stone sits nestled in more gold.
“It’s driftwood,” the witch explains. “From the river. It is steeped in the magic of this realm. Only a queen may wear it. The crown knows the difference.”
I’m suddenly nervous, gazing down at the twisted wood. “What will it do to the one who dares to wear it without being queen?”
“A sticky-fingered goblin once thought to take it,” the witch replies. “The crown grew large enough to drop over the goblin’s head to her shoulders. Then the crown grew smaller... and smaller... and smaller, until—”
“Yes, I can imagine the rest,” I say, snapping the lid shut.
Loviatar smiles down at me, or at least her version of a smile. It’s little more than a pursing of her thin lips.
“You’re lying to me. You just made that up.”
“Of course I did,” she teases, waving the maids away. “You’re too gullible, Aina. Perhaps that is why we all find it so easy to manipulate you.”
“That you all seek to manipulate me is why I can never trust you,” I retort. “And without trust, there can be no love.”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering my words. “And how am I to win your trust, my queen?” She takes the comb from my dressing table. I hold still as she drags the teeth through my long, unbound hair. Her touch is gentle... motherly.
“You know how,” I whisper. “Tell me her name.”
