Page 93 of North Is the Night
“My conditions in the woods were nonnegotiable,” I say. “I want to hear you say the words. Swear it to me now, before all assembled here. Swear you’ll release the others and never take another mortal from the realm of the living. Swear that everyone I love is beyond the reach of your reprisal. You will never raise a hand against them or send another to do the same.”
“Or what?” he taunts. “Will you cut my throat with that little knife? You’ll have to be more creative than that to kill me.”
In a flash, I step away, turning the knife on myself. I hold the cold metal to my own throat. “Swear your oaths aloud, or I’ll open myself at your feet.”
“Aina, no,” one of the girls cries from the corner.
His smile falls. “Put the knife down.”
I press in and wince, the cold metal cutting my tender flesh. “Swear it, my lord.”
At sight of my blood, Tuoni growls, panic shivering down the bond. He lifts out his hand towards me. “Aina, don’t—”
“If I cannot trust you to keep your first three promises to me, you surely won’t keep the last. So, I will end it here and now, and you will have a corpse for a wife.”
His eyes blaze with heat as he takes me in, his gaze settling on the knife at my throat. “Kiss me.”
I blink, leaning away. “What?”
He closes the distance between us, desire for me thrumming down the bond. “Before all these witnesses, you will kiss me again. Kiss me, and I’ll do as you say. I’ll set them free. Now. I’ll vow never to take another. But first, I want to taste your righteous fury.” He leans closer, sharing my air. He overwhelms me with his closeness. “I want to see your fires lit, Aina. You’re far more fearsome than you know. Show me, and I’ll give you anything. Show me, and I’ll give you everything.”
My hand slackens on the blade. He wants my rage, and I feel I have it overflowing. It’s such a strange feeling. This isn’t me. I’m not a cruel or a violent person. But here in this room, where I’ve watched so much violence unfold, I feel I am not myself. I am something different now, something...more.
I close my eyes and think of Lilja and Salla writhing on the floor not feet from where I stand. I picture Inari in the woods, her throat cut. I think of all the death I’ve seen in my short life—mothers in their birthing beds, old men in their sleep, a child drowned in the stream just last spring.
Senseless deaths, sad deaths, deaths come too soon.
Now I stand before the god of death. I am his bride. I never have to watch another soul die, for I will never leave this realm again. For me, there is only death. There is only him. Like Kalma, to the raven I am bound. He looks down at me, waiting, willing me to act.
In this moment, I don’t want to be the scared little mouse. I want to be a creature worthy of Tuonela, a beast of shadow and flame. Fearsome, he called me. Aina the Formidable, a mortal queen in a realm of monsters.
And I mean to survive them.
Gripping his tunic, I pull my raven closer. Blade still at my throat, I arch up on my toes and press my lips to his. He’s ready this time, groaning out his need as he wraps his arms around me, holding me against him. His breath is warm against my lips, his arms like bands of iron. I can still smell the smoke of the burning alder tree on his skin. Ashes dust his hair.
His mouth opens, and I feel the flick of his tongue against my teeth. I gasp, my lips parting in surprise. He tastes like salt and cool shadow, a sharp forest wind. His embrace feels like a winter’s night, my front warmed by the fire while my back prickles with the sharp chill of the frost. There is safety in his arms... danger too. My husband. My raven.
The blade clatters to the floor as I reach for him with both hands. He holds me tight, giving me everything. I weave my fingers into his long, black hair, and my mouth slants over his, deepening our kiss. My skin feels afire. A deep burning cores out my insides, leaving me empty and aching. I want more. More—
But I cannot forget myself.
With the same hands that pulled him closer, I push him forcefully away. He lets himself be pushed, his chest heaving out a shaky breath. I’m no less affected. I lift my trembling hands up to my face, feeling the heat of my cheeks. Not a soul in the great hall moves or breathes. A hundred sets of living and dead eyes are locked on us.
“Keep your word, husband. Bind yourself to me.”
“I swear,” he replies without hesitation, his hungry gaze focused on me. “I am bound to you, wife. Blood and soul.”
I sigh with relief, knowing the others are free of this place, knowing Siiri, too, is safe. My father and mother, my brothers, all those I love are now under the death god’s protection. My nerves return as I feel the press of eyes on me. Dropping down to one knee, I pick up the little silver knife and hold it out.
Tuoni makes no move to take it from me. “Keep it,” he says, curling my fingers gently around the blade. “You never know when you might need it again.”
30
Siiri
I sit across thefire from Väinämöinen as he puffs on his pipe. “Tell me what happened,” I repeat. “What did the Witch Queen do to you?”
He breathes out a cloud of smoke, filling the hut with the smell of sweet grass and raspberries. “It’s true, I was immortal once. But then I crossed into Tuonela.”
