Page 90 of North Is the Night
Tuoni squeezes my hand. “Come, wife.” He leads me forward, sweeping into the throne room. The moment he enters, a flurry of magic bursts around the room, banishing Tuonetar’s darkness. All six of the hearths blaze to life, as does the trio of great antler chandeliers. The walls now resemble the hunting lodge Tuonetar magicked on my first night in this room. Swords and shields hang between still more tapestries. The tables are cleared away, leaving the space empty as we move towards the dais. The dead flock in behind us.
One look at Tuonetar’s throne, and my heart stops. There the Witch Queen sits, the nails of her hands digging into the skulls that adorn her armrests. Only her throne resists Tuoni’s magic. Everything else has succumbed to his will. His own throne is now a resplendent golden chair. No more bones, no more shadows.
But I can’t look at his throne. I can’t look to the other chairs where I know his daughters sit and wait for us. I can’t focus on anything but the Witch Queen... and the skeletal hand gripping her throat. I follow the bones of that hand up a robe-clad arm. I take in Kalma standing at her mother’s side, holding her mother fast. The Witch Queen doesn’t move, her neck stretched to accommodate Kalma’s grip.
“Lord Tuoni,” the Witch Queen calls. “Back from your exile at last. Such a pity. I’ll always prefer you in chains.”
I glance to Tuoni, but he doesn’t look my way. His eyes are locked on Tuonetar. Slowly, he smiles. “I would say I’m pleased to see you again,” he calls out, his voice echoing around the hall, “but that would be a lie. I’ve had decades to think of how I would punish you.”
Tuonetar hisses. I follow her gaze to the floor of the dais, where her willow wand rests, just out of reach. Kalma squeezes, her claws digging into Tuonetar’s throat. The Witch Queen has no choice but to hold still, her bloodshot gaze shifting between us. “The sight of her on your arm is punishment enough.” She turns her gaze on me. “I am going to tear you apart. But first you will watch as I make the other mortals dance, starting with the weepy one.”
A soft whimper draws my attention. To the right, I see Riina, Satu, and Helmi huddled together just off the dais. Loviatar stands sentinel at their side. She looks haunting, her magic coursing through her with her a vengeance. Dark circles frame her glowing white eyes. Her blood flows black in her veins, just visible beneath her pale skin. The black lines zig and zag across her chest and up her neck like forked lightning. My gaze drops to her hands, now tipped with sharp black talons. She looks fearsome... and furious.
What happened while I was in the woods?
Tuonetar locks eyes with Tuoni. “You should have stayed gone, oh great crownless king. My pets and I were having such a wonderful time here without you.”
I feel his rage simmering. “Tuonetar, you’re a tiresome bore. Your madness has grown tedious, your threats empty. And now you’re finished. I come at last to reclaim what is mine.”
She leans into the grip of Kalma’s hand, grinning as Kalma’s talons dig deep enough to draw blood. “Tell me, my king, how did it feel, watching me take everything from you? Did you enjoy your view, powerless to stop me as I snuffed the life out of all those maidens? What delicious mischief I’ve wrought. What glorious fun.”
His hand goes stiff in mine, his fury pounding in my chest like the beat of a hammer to an anvil. “You are right,” he replies. “It was not in my power to stop you. My task was to watch and wait... wait until your own schemes backed you into a corner, wait until even our most wretched of daughters grew sick of your twisted games, wait until one would come along worthy enough to fight you and win.”
Her gaze darts to me. “If that squirming worm thinks to take my crown, she’ll have to fight me for it. I am not so easy to usurp as you—”
“Enough!” Tuoni’s rage boils over. “Great Mother hear me, I will rip you from that chair and rend you to pieces.” Shadows pool out at his feet, creeping towards the Witch Queen. Her face lights with excitement, pleased to get a rise out of him. She wants to bait him into action. She wants him to lower his guard and distract Kalma. Oh gods, she wants her wand... and then she’ll kill us all.
“Tuoni, stop,” I call out, finding my voice at last.
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at me.
I step forward. “This is my fight, remember? I started this, and I will finish it.”
“Yes, let the creeping creature come,” Tuonetar sneers. “Let’s watch her wriggle and writhe as I take off her fingers one by one.” Her grin spreads, flashing her mouth of cracked and blackened teeth.
Tuoni turns. “If you touch her—”
“My lord,please,” I beg, my hand brushing his shoulder. I tug at the threads of our bond, seeking out the cords of trust and patience. Whatever happens, I have to stop him from dueling her. It’s what she wants. I can’t let her win again.
He stiffens, eyes still locked on the Witch Queen.
I walk past him, stopping at the foot of the dais. Ignoring the Witch Queen’s seething glare, I stoop and pick up her wand.
“Youdare—” Kalma’s grip chokes back her words, and she hisses and spits like an angry cat.
In my hand, the wand quivers like an animal that doesn’t want to be touched. I pinch it between two fingers, holding it away from myself. To think of the pain and suffering it has created makes me ill. “Someone please take this away,” I call to the room.
A dead guard appears at my side, hands outstretched. I deposit the wand into his care, and he backs away, head bowed in deference. The Witch Queen watches, eyes wide with horror, as the dead do my bidding.
I glance from Kalma to her sisters. Vammatar sits still as a statue in her chair, flanked on either side by a sullen Kivutar and a bored Kiputyttö. Kiputyttö plays with the small stone in her hand. I can only guess what Tuonetar had her do to the other girls before we arrived. I let my gaze return to the Witch Queen, the goddess I am to usurp. I have no sword and shield. I have no strength of arm. I am Aina the nervous and scared, Aina who likes a good fire and a warm pair of socks. They don’t write stories about weak little mice like me. I’ll have to write my own. How shall Tuonela remember me?
I take a deep breath, finding myself in my truth: Aina the Kind, Aina the Merciful. I look past the Witch Queen, dismissing her taunting glare. I look instead to Kalma. The witch watches me with those unblinking eyes. The horns are crooked on her head, her dark hair matted, flecked with debris. I can smell her from here, her stench enough to make me gag.
It makes no sense. Why is she suddenly helping Tuoni, after serving the Witch Queen so faithfully for so long? Looking past the hideousness of her chosen appearance, I focus instead on the line of her jaw, her slender nose, her slanted cheeks. I trace the ridges of her bony chest, marked with more tattoos. One tattoo catches my eye: a raven in flight, the wingtips brushing over her heart.
The raven.
It all comes back to him.
