Page 155 of North Is the Night
“Shut—up—Aina.”
That voice. My heart stops as my body goes limp.
“It’s me. It’s Siiri.”
No. This isn’t happening. This is some trick.
“I’m going to take my hand away now, but you can’t scream,” says the voice. “You’ll call the whole castle down on our heads. No more screaming. Do you understand?”
Oh gods, I’ve dreamed of Siiri’s voice so often. Now, the soothing music of it washes over me. I give a curt nod. Strong hands let me go, and I scramble to my feet, turning around. I stifle a cry of relief, my own hand covering my mouth. Even in the shade of this willow, I’d know that silhouette anywhere—the strong shoulders, the curve of her ears that point slightly out. The shadow steps forward into the narrow strips of light filtering in through the snowy boughs of the willow.
Siiri.
She’s somehow older than I remembered, even though it’s only been a couple months. She looks harder too. She wears a man’s hunting outfit—a bow across her chest, axe and quiver at her hip. Her hair is odd. Where is her braid? There’s something about her that feels strange. She’s like something out of a dream.
“You’re alive. Oh, thank the gods.” Tears choke Siiri’s voice. “You have no idea what this means. To see you... Ifeelyou, Aina. Even standing apart like this, I...” She’s clearly struggling to find the right words. My Siiri never had a problem expressing herself before. “I couldn’t breathe,” she manages to get out. “With you gone, I couldn’t breathe.”
This can’t really be happening. In the depths of my loneliness, when I feel wholly lost and trapped, Siiri comes? It’s too convenient. Too cruel. It reeks of magic. I don’t trust it. Siiri watches me, waiting for me to give some response. “I couldn’t breathe, either,” I reply, watching her shoulders relax.
She reaches for me. “Come. I’m taking you home.”
I go utterly still, my gaze locked on Siiri’s hands. They’re marked with runes. I can think of only one witch who would dare use this kind of magic on me. She’s done it to me once before. But this time, the impersonation is too good. She has Siiri down to the last detail—her spray of freckles, the slant of her cheekbones, the music in her voice.
But those hands. The witch slipped up. This is not my Siiri. The only way Vammatar would be able to impersonate her so well is if she found her. Vammatar has captured my Siiri. I can only imagine what she did to her.
Rage boils inside me. “What have you done?”
Siiri’s face falls. “What?”
“Where is she, you heartless witch? What have you done with her?” I peer through the tree’s boughs. “Is she here? Did you take her?”
“Who?” Siiri steps forward. “Aina, tell me what’s wrong. Who are you looking for?”
I lunge, throwing myself at the witch. I scratch and slap, ready to tear her throat out.
“Aina—ouch—”
“What did you do to her?” I cry. “Where is Siiri?”
We fall to the ground in a ball of thrown elbows and scratching fingernails. I wrestle myself atop her, letting my rage burn within me like a holy fire.
“Aina—stop—”
“Where’s my Siiri? I’ll kill you for this, Vammatar.Tellme!”
With a grunt, the witch rolls us over, pressing me into the snow. She gets her hips around mine, locking me in place. In moments, she has me pinned, her strength utterly overpowering me. “Juststop.”
My rage burns out, and all I’m left with is the taste of ash in my mouth. I sag with defeat, stifling a broken sob. “Please, don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt Siiri. I’ll do anything. Kill me, feed me to your mother, cast me into the bog. Just don’t hurt my Siiri.”
The witch loosens her grip on me. My eyes dart to her tattoos again. She follows my gaze, and her force on me relaxes. “Oh, Aina.” She releases one of my wrists to cup my cheek. “IamSiiri. Don’t look at my hands. Look in my eyes.”
I shake my head, eyes shutting tight. I can’t let her in. She’ll break me, body and soul. Such a perfectly cruel torture. I could withstand anything but to have Siiri used against me in this way.
“These are not Vammatar’s runes,” she says, gently. “I thought the same thing at first, but no death goddess gave them to me, I swear it. Aina,please.” Her warm hand is still on my cheek. “You know it’s me. Youknowme. You know what you felt when you saw me at the edge of the woods just now.”
I gasp, peering up at her freckled cheeks. “That was you?”
She lets go of my other wrist and climbs off me. “I thought you knew. I felt it too. I was so sure. Aina, I felt you seeing me.” Her voice trembles. “Am I really so changed? Aina, you are the only one who would always know me... please say you can still see me.”
