Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LOVIA

After checking in with the Magician, I happened to catch a glimpse of my father on the balcony, the image of that snowbird on his shoulder lingering in my mind. For a moment, I’d caught a rare, unguarded expression on his face. Relief? Hope? Even just a spark of something other than worry. That gives me comfort as I step back into the castle’s dank corridors. He’s trying to be strong for everyone, but I know how much pain and worry he carries. Hanna’s absence, the loss of Ahto, the realm in disorder, and here I am, his daughter, now wearing the mantle of a general.

General Lovia. The idea still feels foreign, no matter how good it sounds. I’ve always been a fighter. I’ve always known how to swing a sword, hold my ground, frighten the souls out of those who dared stand against us. But commanding others, guiding strategy, protecting not just myself but an entire force—that’s something else. My father trusts me with this. I feel a stirring of pride but also a tightness in my chest. What if I fail him? He’s already burdened by so many disappointments and losses. I don’t want to add my failure to his pain.

I wander the winding halls of the castle. It’s an odd place, carved from obsidian laced with black magic, a palace that tries so hard to be the antithesis to Shadow’s End but just feels sad and soulless. Louhi’s old banners, her weak claim to the land here, hang limply, ragged and nearly colorless. The corridors have a hush about them, as if even the stones are waiting for something. I remember being here as a child and having that same feeling.

Every so often, I pass a guard who snaps to attention at the sight of me.

That’s new.

They used to respect me, of course, as Death’s daughter, but now, they treat me like an officer, like someone who might give orders that determine their fate. It’s unsettling, even if it’s due to my father’s mental coercion. I’m used to wielding a sword, not wielding people. As much as I like mortals, I don’t want to be responsible for them in this way.

I turn a corner and nearly walk straight into Vellamo. The Sea Goddess glides down the hall with quiet grace, though her oceanic eyes are haunted. We’ve all suffered losses, but for her to lose Ahto—my uncle—I know how sharp that ache must be. She inclines her head when she sees me, her hair shifting around her shoulders like waves.

“General Lovia,” she says softly, though there’s a hint of teasing in the lift of her brow. “I keep hearing that title. Feels strange, doesn’t it?”

I manage a half-smile. “I suppose I’ll get used to it.” My voice sounds more confident than I feel.

She gestures to a small alcove near a window. We step aside, letting a patrol of soldiers pass. Outside, the snow shimmers under faint moonlight that pierces the moving clouds. “Actually, I wanted to congratulate you,” Vellamo says in that deep voice of hers. “It’s a heavy duty to have thrust upon you, but I believe you’ll shoulder it well.”

I look down at my boots, tapping my heel against the stone to steady myself. “Do you really think so? I’m good at fighting; I’ve proven that. But leading…I’m not sure. That’s not really my thing, if you know what I mean.”

Vellamo’s gaze is calm and sympathetic. “Leadership isn’t just about strategy. It’s about caring for those who follow you. You have the passion, the courage. I’ve seen it. You led Tapio and Tellervo when they needed you most. You led me here. You need to trust yourself.” She pauses, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Your father trusts you. He wouldn’t have named you General otherwise.”

My heart clenches. “I know he does, but he’s lost so much already. If I fail?—”

She places a cool hand on my arm. “Your father knows the risks of war. He’s not expecting perfection. He expects you to fight for what’s right and to do your best. None of us can promise more than that. You carry your own integrity into battle. That matters more than a flawless victory.”

I nod slowly, forcing myself to absorb her words. My father, stoic as he is, wouldn’t have chosen me if he thought I would crumble. He knows me better than anyone. He must believe in my strength.

Which means I have to believe in my strength.

“Thank you, Vellamo,” I say, voice quieter now. “I needed to hear that.”

She squeezes my arm gently. “We’re all uncertain, Lovia. We’ve never faced enemies like these. We’ve all been so damn blind, sticking our heads in the snow, toiling in our ignorance. All we can do is stand together and trust in each other’s resolve.”

I watch her walk away, a sad elegance in her step. She lost her beloved, and yet still, she’s trying to comfort me. The depth of her strength astounds me.

Feeling a bit more grounded, I decide to find Rasmus. He’s lurking around this castle somewhere, under guard but not entirely imprisoned. We need him—or at least, the Magician thinks we do. He’s still my half-brother, linked by blood. By poisonous blood, yes, and he has been on the enemy’s side, brainwashed to bits. He shot me with an arrow, yet my father allowed him to live because the Magician said Rasmus might be of some use to us.

I have to trust in that.

Still, I have this urge to test his loyalties, to see if there’s anything redeemable in him. Maybe Rasmus knows something he hasn’t shared. Perhaps I can draw him out with conversation, learn his true intentions. If I’m going to be a general, I must also learn the art of subtlety. Of trickery. Of interrogation.

This could be my first test.

I find him in a side corridor near the kitchens, seated on a low bench with two guards standing a few feet away, arms crossed. Rasmus’ red hair falls over his eyes as he stares sullenly at the floor. At my approach, the guards straighten, and he lifts his head. Our eyes meet—mine cold, his guarded.

“Rasmus,” I say curtly. “Good evening.”

He raises an eyebrow; amused or resentful, I can’t tell. “General Lovia,” he says dryly.

“Don’t start,” I warn, keeping my tone even. “I want to talk. The guards can step aside.” I glance at them, and they hesitate. Despite my new status, they clearly aren’t sure if it’s wise. But I give them a firm nod, and they move a few steps farther off, still within reach if something goes wrong. Plus, I can take care of myself. Rasmus may have some magic somewhere, but he’s just a mortal in the end.

I sit down on the bench beside Rasmus but not too close. I rest my hand on my sword hilt casually, letting him know I’m not stupid. “I want to know something,” I say. “About our mother.”

His lips twist. “You mean the mother who left me to die?” A bitter laugh escapes him. “You think I know her now? She fucking blindsided me.”

I observe his face. There’s anger there, hurt. He’s just as wounded by her abandonment as anyone would be. “I think you know a part of her none of us do. You spent time with her, didn’t you? Long enough to earn her trust, be part of her schemes. She chose you for a reason, and not just because you’re her son. She must have confided something in you.”

He snorts. “ Son is a generous term. I was a pawn, a useful extension of her will and nothing more.”

I recall how he shot me with an arrow, how he mouthed off. “You certainly acted like you believed in her cause.”

He turns his head slightly, eyes narrowed. “I was wrong, okay? Now I see I was just another tool.”

I consider his words. He’s admitting he was manipulated, but does that make him trustworthy now, or just desperate? “If you resent her, if you truly feel betrayed, then you should help us. She’s your enemy as much as ours.”

Rasmus looks away, silent for a moment. “You think a few kind words will make me forget who I am?”

“Well, who are you then?”

He doesn’t answer.

I sigh. “Listen, I don’t expect miracles. I’m just pointing out the obvious. She cast you aside. We saved your life. That should mean something.”

He shakes his head. “You saved me for your own purposes. Don’t pretend it was charity. If I was of no use, you’d have left me in Yggthra’s coils, right?”

“No,” I admit. “I went back to save you for reasons I don’t really understand, but it wasn’t because I thought you were useful. Leaving you to die was the wrong thing to do. Look, we both know what Louhi is capable of. We both know she’s tearing Tuonela apart. You might not care about the realm, but you care about your own skin. Aligning with us could keep you alive.”

He laughs, a sharp bark with no real humor. “Spoken like a true pragmatist. You know I’m only trying to survive.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But trusting you would mean trusting the family I never knew, the family that scorns me. I see how you look at me, Lovia. Like a snake you mustn’t turn your back on.”

I meet his gaze steadily. “You did try to kill me,” I remind him. “You tried to kidnap Hanna. You sided with my mother, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything my father built. Forgive me if I’m a little wary.”

A flash of shame, perhaps regret, passes through his eyes. “You’re right,” he admits quietly. “I was your enemy. I could be again—or maybe not.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. I swear, he’s being annoying on purpose, if not obtuse.

I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice. “What if we tried something else? What if we worked out a truce—a real one, not just you tied up like a captive? Give us something. Information, a weakness in Louhi’s plans, something that proves you’re useful beyond your own survival.”

He grimaces, shaking his head. “You expect me to just hand over secrets I’m not even sure I know? Louhi didn’t exactly leave her plans on a scroll for me to read.”

I was afraid of that. He might know nothing concrete, which complicates things. “What about Rangaista or the Old Gods? Did you see anything that might help us understand their nature, their limits?”

“You know their nature, Lovia, way better than I do. We’re just talking in circles now.” He pauses, eyes distant. “I’m not eager to throw in my lot with you either, but maybe that can change if I see I’m not just a prisoner here, if I see you’re at least willing to consider me as more than a hostage.”

I study his face. I see hints of sincerity—or maybe it’s a clever trick. He has been taught by a master manipulator, after all. But still, I get a sense that he’s lost, drifting. He had his entire worldview shattered. That can break a person…or open them to change.

“Rasmus,” I say slowly, “we’re on the brink of a battle unlike anything our realm has seen. If we fail, everyone loses—Louhi rules a realm of nightmares. If we succeed, maybe we build something better. If you help us, you might find a place in that better world.”

“A place, huh? You think I can just reinvent myself? What would I even be?”

I smile thinly. “That’s up to you. You could be many things, but I know you’re no longer your mother’s puppet.” I study his face for a moment, seeing Torben in his features. “Perhaps your place is getting to know your real father. I know you and Torben go way back, that he was your mentor in the Upper World, but it’s only recently you learned he was your true father. Maybe you being here is less about helping us and more about helping him.”

The torches in the corridor flicker, and the guards shift their weight impatiently. They probably wonder why I’m bothering to talk to him—because I must. Because as a general, I must consider all resources, all possibilities. Trusting Rasmus blindly would be stupid, but dismissing him could be a missed opportunity.

I stand, adjusting my sword belt. “I’ll leave you to think about it,” I say. “I’m not promising we’ll trust you overnight, but trust isn’t given freely; it’s earned. Show us you can be trusted, and maybe we’ll meet you halfway.”

He watches me go without a word, and I can feel his eyes on my back. Maybe I’ve planted a seed. Maybe he’ll try something cunning. I’ll be ready either way.

I stride down the corridor, the stone floor cold beneath my boots. The weight of my new responsibilities presses on my shoulders, but I feel a strange calmness. I may not be certain of what tomorrow brings, but I’m doing my part. I’m making decisions. I’m learning to trust myself as my father trusted me with this rank. The castle’s halls still feel haunted by old fears and old loyalties, but now, I carry a bit more confidence. I won’t let fear define me.

The corridor leads me back toward the main hall. Outside, the Star Swamp shimmers softly. My father is likely on some balcony or in a chamber, wrestling with his own doubts, perhaps confiding in the snowbird, but I know he won’t give in. Neither will I. We stand on a knife’s edge, and I must hold steady.

I let out a slow breath and move on. No matter what doubts I harbor, no matter what chaos lurks outside these walls, I will face it with everything I have. If that means growing into my new title, so be it. I may not be certain I’ll succeed, but I’ll do my damned best.

For myself, for my father, for all who depend on me.