Page 160 of North Is the Night
The witch snarls, her teeth sharpened to deadly points. “There is no threat to my daughter’s safety if you’re dead, shaman. And my father will suffer no rivals to live. Say goodbye to your precious Siiri,” she taunts at Aina, giving her cheek a kiss.
“No—” Aina struggles, tugging at the witch. “Siiri, go—now—”
I use the distraction of Aina’s movement to tug loose my axe. With a single lunging step, I swing high, bludgeoning the goddess in the side of the head. Aina cries out as the witch’s hand at her throat goes slack. The goddess looks briefly surprised, almost impressed, before she drops to the snow in a tangle of white robes and black hair.
49
Aina
Loviatar lies in acrumpled heap at my feet. “What did you do?” I shriek, turning on Siiri.
She tucks her axe in at her belt. “She’ll be fine.”
Blood is on the shaft, but the blade is clean. Dropping to my knees, I breathe a sigh of relief as I feel the goddess’s slow pulse at her neck.
Siiri ducks out from under the willow and comes back in moments, dragging the limp form of Kukka through the snow. “You heard her. She refused to help us. We can’t trust her, Aina. We can’t just walk away from her and risk her sounding the alarm.” With a grunt, she drops Kukka’s limp form next to Loviatar.
Frustration surges through my veins. “You didn’t have to hurt Kukka.”
“Kukka?”
“My maid,” I say, pointing at the dead girl’s body.
Siiri jerks the arrow free from Kukka’s skull, and I wince, looking away. She wipes the tip on her breeches before returning it to her quiver. “She can’t feel anything, Aina. She’s dead.”
“You don’t know what they feel. You didn’t know her, Siiri. She was my friend.”
Siiri stands over me, hands on hips. “We’ll have to argue about it later. I don’t know how much time I just bought us, but that witch probably has a thick skull. We must go.”
I get to my feet and unclasp my hood from my shoulders, tossing it to Siiri. “Put that on and pull up the hood.” I step out from under the willow.
Siiri catches up quickly. “We need to go to the river—”
“I know.” I keep walking.
“We’ll go the way I came in. Väinämöinen says the river is narrowest at the Kipumäki—”
“I know,” I say, louder this time.
“Well—but you’re going the wrong way—”
I stop and turn, glaring at her. “Siiri, for once in your life, shut up. Stop mothering me, stop protecting me, and stop trying to control everything.Trustme. I’ve lived here for months. You want out, and so do I. Just this once, trust that I know more than you.”
Siiri opens her mouth to speak but shuts it again quickly. Her mouth sets in a firm line, her eyes blazing with the words she’s leaving unsaid.
I gesture to my cloak around her shoulders. “Hood up, head down, and walk in my shadow. Try to shuffle a bit. Act like you’re dead. Anddo notspeak. Understood?”
With a scowl, Siiri flips up the cowl. The rest of the cloak hangs in folds around her shoulders, hiding her bulky weapons.
Giving her a nod, I turn. “Let’s go then, handmaid.”
We sweep across the garden and through the entry courtyard. The wooden doors, wide enough to admit Tuoni’s great iron horse, stand firmly bolted shut. We pass through to the busy kitchen courtyard.
I stop in the doorway. Smoke rises from the ovens, filling the air with the scent of savory bread. Somewhere within the stables, horses whinny and cattle low. The dead shuffle back and forth, carrying bundles and trays, readying the hall for supper.
Behind me, Siiri grabs my arm. “They’ll see us,” she hisses.
“They’ll see me,” I correct.
