Page 73 of North Is the Night
“I would have let you,” Loviatar whispers.
“Keep to your muck, worm. And know that if I scent so much as a whiff in the air of further treachery, I will rip the beating heart from your chest and eat it with a garnish of lingonberry jam.”
Loviatar frowns. “As I said—”
“Shhh.” The Witch Queen shushes her, placing a bony finger to her daughter’s lips. “No more lies now, dearest. Let them rot and fester deep within your heart. That’s a good girl.” She brushes Loviatar’s cheek with a long finger, wiping her tear away. Bringing it to her cracked lips, she flicks out her tongue, tasting Loviatar’s sadness.
“You’ve always been soft,” she says, shaking her head in disappointment. “You’re a dreamer, just like him. It’s a waste, my darling little parasite. Turn away from him. Turn away from these ideas of order and rules, right and wrong. Embrace chaos as we are all meant to do. Embrace chaos... or be consumed by it. For I willnevergive way to him. I’ll die first... and death cannot die.”
With that, the Witch Queen stalks away, rattling the door in its frame when she slams it shut. Only her menacing aura remains, seeping into the shadows of every corner.
Loviatar stands in the shattered mess of the room, back stiff, shoulders straight. “You can come out now, little mouse.”
I pick myself up off the floor. “What happened?”
“Mother had plans for the girls she killed today,” Loviatar replies flatly.
I step around the mess to her side. “Lilja and Salla? Inari?”
The witch nods.
I groan, feeling sick. What tortures did she have planned for their corpses?
“We managed to get them away from her and put them back to rest,” Loviatar soothes.
I glance sharply at her. “We?”
Her expression turns veiled, protective. “There are those who would help us, those whoarehelping us. Powerful forces in Tuonela are ready for a change, Aina. They weren’t ready before, but Tuonetar’s reign of terror has gone on for long enough. Say the word, and I will rally them to you, to my father. You will not be alone. Wewillprotect you. Free him, and we will do everything in our power to keep you safe from Tuonetar.”
Tears fill my eyes. Sorrow and fatigue are etched on every line of her face. I think of her long years of suffering. I think of the other girls, the pain they felt when they died, the fear and humiliation. I think of my Siiri, so bold and full of life. She deserves a long life and a blessed death. So many people—mortal and immortal—have suffered under the Witch Queen. I can stop this. I can save them.
All it will cost me is my soul, bound in a loveless marriage to the god of death.
Hail Aina, Queen of Tuonela. Will the bards and minstrels ever know? Will they sing my songs?
I suppose my choice is made regardless. It was made the moment I reached out my hand to Kalma to spare Siiri. It was made again when I first heard the Witch Queen’s taunting laughter. It was made thrice over when I dragged a sharp blade across Inari’s neck. It was bound in iron when I watched Lilja and Salla writhing on the floor. It was plated in gold just now, when I saw Loviatar dangling from her neck.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
The witch goes still. “Are you sure?”
I don’t know how I came to be on this path, but I’ll not stray from it now. Stepping closer, I press my forehead to hers, breathing deeply of her comforting smell of juniper and lanolin. She places her hands on my shoulders. “You’ve put your trust in me,” I whisper. “Now I’m trusting you. Take me to your father. Take me to Tuoni, and I will set us all free.”
24
Siiri
“Gods, you weigh aton,” a deep voice grunts.
All around, I hear the excited yips of dogs. There’s sloshing and splashing as someone drags me out of the lake. I’m weighed down by my wet furs like a dead fish. Is this death? Have I washed up on Tuoni’s shores?
“Cough it up,” the voice says. “That’s a good lad. Come on, cough it up or die.”
My rescuer turns me on my side and pounds my back with a large fist that rattles my ribcage. Retching mightily, I empty my stomach of a lake’s worth of freezing water. I’m surprised a whole pike doesn’t flop out onto the ice.
Not dead yet. I’m very much still alive... and wet... and freezing.
“There we go,” says the deep voice. “Get it all out.”
