Page 64 of North Is the Night
“You have to understand,” she says. “If Tuonetar’s sickness is her inclination for chaos, my father’s is his dogged belief in justice and order. It leaves him unsuspecting of the machinations of others.”
“What machinations? What did they do to him?”
“He believed so fervently in the rightness of his course, this dream of a blessed, peaceful kingdom of death. But he failed to anticipate the way some of my sisters would respond. In the end, it was their doubt, their fear of change, that felled him.”
“What did they do?”
“They went behind his back to Tuonetar. They told her of his plans before he could set them fully in motion. His vision would have taken her power from her, and they told her as much.”
I suppress a shiver. “And... what did the Witch Queen do when she found out he meant to constrain her?”
“She turned on him with a vengeance,” Loviatar replies. “She used the very shackles he had made for her, and she bound him instead. It cost her every bit of magic she wields to overpower him. It costs her still.”
“How?” I whisper, praying for some proof of the Witch Queen’s weakness.
Loviatar’s lips twist. “My mother is a vain woman, Aina. The power it took to curse Tuoni stripped her bare, until the rotten core of her was exposed like a berry in autumn that withers overripe on the vine.”
“You’re sayingher ugliness is part of this curse?”
She nods. “Before, she used her magic to conceal the rottenness within. Now, she cannot hold a simple glamouring spell for more than a few minutes. Truth will always out. Her truth is that her body is as rotten as her soul.”
“That first dinner,” I say, putting the pieces together. “She cast a spell to conceal the ugliness of the room as well as herself.”
Loviatar nods. “Tuonela is a realm where power and magic are made. There is magic in the very walls of this palace. The goblins crafted it with stones hewn from the heart of our mountains. The palace has become a reflection of Tuonetar’s madness, her need for violence, her unquenchable thirst for pain. If another were to claim dominion over Tuonela, the palace would reflecttheirnature.”
I consider her words. “You’re saying if Tuoni returns to power, the palace will change?”
“Everything will change,” she replies solemnly.
“You said he’s shackled. And the shackles somehow constrain his magic?”
She nods.
“Well, does Tuonetar hold the key? How can we free him?”
Before Loviatar can respond, the door to the weaving room slams open. Snow flurries in as Vammatar appears. She sweeps across the room in a fury, dragging me off my stool by my arm. “Let’s go, bonebag. Up. Now.”
“Sister, what’s happening?” says Loviatar, rising to her feet.
Vammatar’s hand around my arm squeezes tight. “The bonebag is coming with me.”
Oh gods, not again.I swallow my fear.
“Take one of the others to play your insipid games,” Loviatar challenges with an irritated sigh. “This one is useful to me. I’m keeping her.”
“No games tonight, sister,” Vammatar replies, pulling me forward.
Loviatar goes still. “What happened?”
“What always happens?” Vammatar replies. Something in her tone fills me with dread.
“This one has done nothing,” Loviatar says. “She’s been with me since you took her to the forest. Whatever you’re about to do—”
“Oh, spare me.” Vammatar points a rune-marked finger in Loviatar’s face. “I warned you, sister. You get too attached to them. It’s pathetic. I don’t understand why you bother when nothing will ever replace the child you lost.”
With a snarl, Loviatar lunges, slapping her sister across the face. Vammatar uses me as an anchor, nearly wrenching my arm from its socket. She rounds on her sister, red scratch marks from Loviatar’s sharp nails marring her cheek. “You dare!”
Loviatar doesn’t back down. Black mist swirls around her fingertips as she raises her hands. The tips of each finger elongate with sharp black nails like the talons of a great bird of prey. “Speak of my child again, and I will plague you...sister.”
