Page 158 of North Is the Night
Juniper.
Wisewomen call juniper berries the “shaman’s fruit.” Different parts of the tree foster connection, healing, and purification. Siiri, my fearless shaman, come to rescue her lost queen from the endless night. I smile against her lips, kissing her again.
Her hesitation only lasts a second before she cups the back of my head and finally kisses me in return, her lips parting against mine. It’s soft and sweet... and over too quickly.
I break away first, my hands stiff on her shoulders. We stare at each other, lips parted, chests heaving. “Get us out of here,” I say. “Siiri, take me home.”
She nods, and I drop my hands from her shoulders. Taking her bow in hand, she turns. “Follow me. Quick and quiet as you can.”
Before I can reply, a familiar sound has both our heads turning. It’s the softest of sounds: gentle footfalls crunching the snow.
“Aina,” a low voice calls. “Who are you talking to?”
48
Siiri
My senses are ariot of emotions. Aina just kissed me. I can still taste her on my lips—sweet as a raspberry, soft as cooling mint. But Aina is married to the death god. And she’s pregnant. She’s scared and alone. She’s fought so hard and suffered so much.
I knew this place might change her. It took me so long to journey north and find Väinämöinen—too long. All the while, she remained trapped down here, fighting to survive. My brave Aina. She said she killed someone. She lured the death god to her aid. She claimed the Witch Queen’s crown. Is Tuonetar dead? I don’t intend to stay long enough to find out.
It will take all my cunning to get us out, and she’s willing to come home. That’s all I need to know. I will get her to the edge of the veil or die trying. “Follow me,” I say. “Quick and quiet as you can.”
Before I can turn, all my senses fire in alarm. Someone is here. I can feel them. I hear the soft crunch of snow.
“Aina,” a low, female voice calls from the other side of the willow tree. “Who are you talking to?”
My hand falls to the quiver at my hip, but one sharp look from Aina tells me violence isn’t an option.
“I’m here, Loviatar,” she calls out.
My jaw clenches tight. The blind goddess of illness sweeps the willow branches aside, stepping under the shadows to join us. She’s tall and austere looking, with thin lips, a narrow face, and long black hair trailing down her back. I expected the goddess of pestilence and plagues to look sicklier, but one might even call her beautiful.
But Loviatar took my mother. She takes so many—mothers from daughters, husbands from wives. So much death. So much pain and suffering. I want to blame her. I want tohateher. But I’m learning more about the balance. All gods must be respected. All gods serve a purpose.
And it was Loviatar who saved Väinämöinen.
The goddess stares unblinking at the space between us. “I assume you use my name to signal my identity to your companion,” she says in greeting. “They clearly know you, but they do not know me by sight alone. Which means they are not from this realm, nor are they an immortal.”
Aina take a step closer to her. “Loviatar, please—”
The witch raises a hand to silence her. She shifts her raised hand ever so slightly to the left. Then she curls her fingers down and points directly at me. “Who are you, little fox?”
I glance to Aina, readying for a fight.
Aina shakes her head again. “Just tell her,” she whispers.
I face the goddess. “My name is Siiri.”
The corner of the witch’s mouth twitches in what I assume is meant to be a smile. “Ah... the one and only Siiri.” Her white eyes narrow on Aina. “Your Siiri is a shaman? You kept that quiet, little mouse.”
“I didn’t know,” Aina replies honestly.
I take a step closer. I won’t be able to breathe until I put Aina safely behind me. “Goddess, I was trained by Väinämöinen himself. He waits with my body in life even now. He sends his regards—”
“Do not speak of him,” she hisses.
“You helped him once.” I inch my shoulder in front of Aina. “You helped each other. Please, goddess—”
