Page 79 of North Is the Night
His gaze softens, and I have the feeling he’s trying to nod his assent.
Taking a few steps back, I circle the tree, considering my options. Then I search his face. Jaako is so readable—his expressions, his mood. Is Tuoni the same? It’s so hard to see the man for the tree. “I will marry you, my lord. I will bind myself to you, soul to soul. And in so doing, I will free you... but I have conditions you must agree to first. Blink once if you consent to hear my terms.”
Slowly, he blinks.
Taking a deep breath, I stand at my full height, daring to bargain with the god of death. “First, you must let the others go,” I declare, my voice sounding much stronger than I feel. “Riina, Satu, and Helmi—you must return them to the realm of the living. And you will vowneverto take another girl in this way again.” I level a finger at his face.
He blinks once, agreeing to my first condition.
“So, then, my second condition...” I pace away in the snow, trying to think of the words to use to extract his oath. “I told you many things as the raven... about my family, my friends. You must swear never to raise a hand to them. You will never harm them or send another to act in your stead. As you are the god of blessed death, you will bless their deaths. Siiri, my mother, my father, and brothers—you will protect them from Tuonetar’s wrath. Swear it, or I take my chances and try to swim to freedom here and now.”
This is an expression I can read—the tilt of his dark brows, the set of his jaw. He’s affronted. I imagine he’s not used to being given a list of demands from a mortal girl. Narrowing his eyes, he blinks.
“My third condition...” Here I pause, fighting a blush that has nothing to do with the cold. I adjust the cowl over my hair. “If I am to be a wife to you... I would ask that you be kind. I don’t—” Gods, this feels too unnatural to speak aloud before any man, let alone a god. Steeling myself, I say the words sitting like a block of ice in my heart. “I would ask that you not hurt me, my lord... or take what I do not want to give. I know the duties of a wife, and I will fulfill them. I only ask... please be kind.”
I fall into awkward silence, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. But his eyes are the only way he can respond. Swallowing my nerves, I glance up. The god is surveying me with that black eye. He looks so much like my raven. He holds my gaze and blinks.
I sigh with relief, giving him a little nod. “Thank you, my lord. I think I only have one more condition.” I curl my hands into fists at my side, feeling the bite of my nails against my palms as I step closer to him. “You must swear to me that you will do all in your power to protect me from Tuonetar. And if you cannot protect me...” I pause as a tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it quickly away. “If you cannot protect me, my lord, I beg thatyoube the one to kill me.”
He grunts, his face a mask of rage as he fights the tree harder than ever.
“Give me a clean death, my lord. Kill me quickly and lay me to rest. Swear it to me.” I frame his face with both hands, all but sharing breath with the death god. I need to see his face, his eyes. I need to know he’ll hold himself to this last oath. “I’m not afraid of death,” I whisper. “I’m afraid of how she’ll make me die. Swear you’ll be merciful, my lord. Swear it, or I make for the river and leave you to your fate.”
Tears well in his good eye as he looks down at me in agony. Slowly, he blinks.
A breath of relief leaves me, my shoulders sagging. Suddenly, I feel the cold again. I sense eyes on us, and I doubt they are the knotted eyes of the trees. Someone watches me. Something. I’m terrified to turn around. I must hurry. The trouble is that I’m unsure of what to do next. Loviatar was certain I would know how to free him.
With trembling hands, I pull out the silver knife she gave me. It’s a lovely thing with a sharp blade and a polished reindeer-
horn handle. Runes I can’t read are etched down the thin blade. I turn the knife over in my hands, gazing upon the bark of the alder tree. “If I was meant to cut you out, I imagine Loviatar would have given me an axe,” I muse.
Tuoni watches me, unable to assist. This is my puzzle to solve.
“I cannot possibly carve you away from the tree,” I go on. “Can your magic free you?”
He blinks.
“Then I must marry you here and now to free you to use your magic and—” I gasp, looking down at the knife in my hands. I know why Loviatar gave it to me. I’ve heard of wisewomen using blood magic in their binding rituals. But blood rituals are said to be a deep magic, an old and dangerous magic—powerful when performed correctly, disastrous when done wrong.
“Once, all marriages were sealed in blood,” I say, holding up the knife. “Palm to palm, the two lovers pledged their lives to one another under the boughs of the oak tree.” I glance around the dark clearing and feel a flutter of sadness. “I always imagined my wedding day a little differently from this. My intended would ask for my hand. Is that not how all the ballads go? He recites poetry or a song of love that makes me feel more beautiful than the moon goddess.” I frown, gazing up at Tuoni, studying his lichen-dusted face. “But now I stand before my bridegroom who is as silent as the grave... for he is death.”
Tuoni waits with a somber look in his eye.
“There is no oak tree lit with candles. No drumming in the woods as you seek me out, the bridegroom on his last hunt. No wisewoman is here to witness the binding oath. And my family, my—” I bite back the words, closing my eyes against the pain of not having Siiri and my mother here. A bride is supposed to have her loved ones close as she makes this step, leaving the comfort of her house to begin a new life. A bride is supposed to be in love with her new husband too. So much about this moment is not what I would have wished, but I must take my fate in my own hands. I gaze up at the god of death. “My lord, do you consent to be my husband? Will you take me for a wife, forsaking all others?”
Slowly, Tuoni blinks. He has no choice. This is a marriage of desperation for us both. He doesn’t love me. If he could choose another, I’m sure he would.
I step closer, raising the blade. “I’m sorry for this, but I know no other way.” I slice open his cheek, watching as red blood drips down the knife. Lifting my hand, I wince, dragging the blade across my palm to spill my blood too. Tucking the knife in at my belt, I place my bleeding hand against his cheek. He closes his eyes at my touch.
“I’m not a wisewoman to know the right words,” I whisper. “But by my blood, I bind myself to you as your wife. No other may claim me. By your blood, you must offer me your protection... and I think the wisewomen usually say something about hearths, but I can’t remember. Your hearth fire burns, or I make a place for you at mine. Whatever the right words are, let’s agree they’ve been spoken.” I gaze up at Tuoni’s weathered face and wait for something to change. Am I supposed to feel different?
“I don’t know if it worked,” I admit, my hope dwindling. “Maybe it can’t work unless you make the vow too. I—ahh—” I cry out in pain as a heat like fire courses through my hand where I’m touching the death god’s face. I try to pull away, but I can’t. The alder tree is burning from the inside out. No—wait—the tree isn’t on fire. Thegodis on fire. I whimper, tears stinging my eyes as his skin turns molten. Flames dance in his dark eye as the tree around him begins to melt away.
Oh gods, it’s working. He’s breaking free.
I stumble back as a flaming hand wraps itself around my wrist, steadying me. The flames warm me, but they don’t burn. A thick metal chain dangles from the death god’s wrist, proof of his long captivity. I turn my wrist in his grasp, marveling as I take hold of his hand. It’s strong as iron, unyielding.
Holding tight to my husband, I pull him from the tree. The god of death steps forward, towering head and shoulders over me. He sheds his cloak of fire, leaving it burning in the trunk of the ruined alder. I cough from the smoke as the tree crackles and snaps.
