21

Aina

I sit on a stool across from Loviatar, noting her stiff posture, her rune-marked hands folded in her lap. My heart hammers in my chest. Some answers at last! She’s going to tell me how we free Tuoni from the Witch Queen’s curse and restore the Tuonela of the songs.

“Start at the beginning,” I say. “Please, Loviatar, leave nothing out.”

“You have to understand,” she says. “If Tuonetar’s sickness is her inclination for chaos, my father’s is his dogged belief in justice and order. It leaves him unsuspecting of the machinations of others.”

“What machinations? What did they do to him?”

“He believed so fervently in the rightness of his course, this dream of a blessed, peaceful kingdom of death. But he failed to anticipate the way some of my sisters would respond. In the end, it was their doubt, their fear of change, that felled him.”

“What did they do?”

“They went behind his back to Tuonetar. They told her of his plans before he could set them fully in motion. His vision would have taken her power from her, and they told her as much.”

I suppress a shiver. “And... what did the Witch Queen do when she found out he meant to constrain her?”

“She turned on him with a vengeance,” Loviatar replies. “She used the very shackles he had made for her, and she bound him instead. It cost her every bit of magic she wields to overpower him. It costs her still.”

“How?” I whisper, praying for some proof of the Witch Queen’s weakness.

Loviatar’s lips twist. “My mother is a vain woman, Aina. The power it took to curse Tuoni stripped her bare, until the rotten core of her was exposed like a berry in autumn that withers overripe on the vine.”

“You’re sayingher ugliness is part of this curse?”

She nods. “Before, she used her magic to conceal the rottenness within. Now, she cannot hold a simple glamouring spell for more than a few minutes. Truth will always out. Her truth is that her body is as rotten as her soul.”

“That first dinner,” I say, putting the pieces together. “She cast a spell to conceal the ugliness of the room as well as herself.”

Loviatar nods. “Tuonela is a realm where power and magic are made. There is magic in the very walls of this palace. The goblins crafted it with stones hewn from the heart of our mountains. The palace has become a reflection of Tuonetar’s madness, her need for violence, her unquenchable thirst for pain. If another were to claim dominion over Tuonela, the palace would reflect their nature.”

I consider her words. “You’re saying if Tuoni returns to power, the palace will change?”

“Everything will change,” she replies solemnly.

“You said he’s shackled. And the shackles somehow constrain his magic?”

She nods.

“Well, does Tuonetar hold the key? How can we free him?”

Before Loviatar can respond, the door to the weaving room slams open. Snow flurries in as Vammatar appears. She sweeps across the room in a fury, dragging me off my stool by my arm. “Let’s go, bonebag. Up. Now.”

“Sister, what’s happening?” says Loviatar, rising to her feet.

Vammatar’s hand around my arm squeezes tight. “The bonebag is coming with me.”

Oh gods, not again. I swallow my fear.

“Take one of the others to play your insipid games,” Loviatar challenges with an irritated sigh. “This one is useful to me. I’m keeping her.”

“No games tonight, sister,” Vammatar replies, pulling me forward.

Loviatar goes still. “What happened?”

“What always happens?” Vammatar replies. Something in her tone fills me with dread.

“This one has done nothing,” Loviatar says. “She’s been with me since you took her to the forest. Whatever you’re about to do—”

“Oh, spare me.” Vammatar points a rune-marked finger in Loviatar’s face. “I warned you, sister. You get too attached to them. It’s pathetic. I don’t understand why you bother when nothing will ever replace the child you lost.”

With a snarl, Loviatar lunges, slapping her sister across the face. Vammatar uses me as an anchor, nearly wrenching my arm from its socket. She rounds on her sister, red scratch marks from Loviatar’s sharp nails marring her cheek. “You dare!”

Loviatar doesn’t back down. Black mist swirls around her fingertips as she raises her hands. The tips of each finger elongate with sharp black nails like the talons of a great bird of prey. “Speak of my child again, and I will plague you... sister .”

I wait with bated breath, glancing between the witches. Vammatar still holds my arm. “Come,” she mutters at me, giving my arm another tug.

“Return to me when my sister is finished with you,” Loviatar calls. “You still have much work to do.”

Vammatar drags me from the weaving room, pulling me through the busy kitchens full of laboring dead. We weave between the back rooms before we enter the grand receiving hall through a side door.

I look at it with new eyes, remembering what Loviatar said about the walls reflecting Tuonetar’s inner nature. The room is dark, cold, and uninviting. Only one antler chandelier is lit, barely casting any light, let alone warmth. The walls of twisted skulls are lost to the deep shadow.

“Aina?”

Helmi and Riina stand in the middle of the room beneath the chandelier. Vammatar flings me forward, all but knocking me into Helmi, who embraces me with both arms. She’s trembling, little cuts marring her cheeks and hands. Her dress is muddy at the knees, dusted with dirt and pine needles as if she was rolling around on the ground.

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you alive,” she whispers, squeezing my hand.

“And I you,” I reply.

“I had the strangest dream,” she goes on. “Aina, I don’t know what’s happening. I woke alone in the woods. Where are the others? Inari and Satu?”

Riina and I exchange a glance. “Inari is dead,” she replies for me.

Helmi gasps. “What? How?”

“She was hunted,” Riina replies.

The doors at the far end of the hall open, and a pair of dead guards drag a whimpering Satu forward. She’s shoved towards us, and the guards make their retreat. “Oh, thank the gods,” she says to Helmi. “We were worried you’d be a deer forever.”

Helmi’s eyes go wide. “That was real?”

Riina peers around the room. “Where are Salla and Lilja?”

Another door by the dais slams open, and the Witch Queen sweeps in, golden robes billowing. This time she wears a crown of antlers on her head, their jagged tips casting long shadows. I take in her hideousness, noting the way her face rots off her skull. Her eyes are bloodshot, the right one somewhat foggy. There’s no muscle on her bones. Her fingers are like that of a corpse, gnarled and stiff.

Rotten fruit, Loviatar called her.

Vanity explains her beautiful clothes. She can’t wrap her body in magic, but she can hide it beneath regal gowns that twinkle like starlight. I now think her beautiful silver tresses must be a wig. If this is her only curse, it’s not nearly enough. She has brought so much strife to the world. I want her to rot to dust, and I want it to take a thousand years.

The other girls bunch around me under the circle of light, Helmi and Satu each taking one of my hands. Tuonetar’s aura is so ominous that it takes me a moment to realize she’s dragging something on the ground behind her.

I go still. “Oh—Ilmatar protect them,” I say, breathless with horror. For it’s not some thing ... it’s some one . Two someones. The Witch Queen drags a squirming Lilja and Salla by their long braids, one in each hand.

“No,” Riina cries.

Satu and I work quickly to restrain her.

Tuonetar drags the girls right up to the edge of the ring of light, her bony chest heaving as she drops their braids and steps back. Why are they soaking wet?

“Oh gods, no,” Riina whispers, all the fight leaving her.

I piece it together too. Fools! What were they thinking?

Salla recovers first, scrambling forward on hands and knees like a frightened dog, as if she means to cower behind us.

“They cannot save you now, measly worm,” the Witch Queen shrieks. “Back. All of you, get back !” She brandishes her wand at us. We have no choice but to step away, leaving Lilja and Salla exposed on the floor. Vammatar is still in the room, standing by the dais with her arms crossed. I can see the faint red lines on her cheek where Loviatar struck her.

“How dare you try to leave my realm,” the Witch Queen bellows, drawing my attention and confirming what I already knew. The girls are wet from the river. They tried to cross. They tried to flee Tuonela. Magic magnifies the witch’s voice tenfold. She shouts loudly enough to shake the dust from the rafters. “No one leaves Tuonela. No one! ” Her wand transforms into a whip. It falls with a heavy hand, and the poor girls cower as each strike slices their tender flesh.

I can’t bear it; I have to look away. Satu’s face is already buried in my shoulder. Next to me, Helmi silently weeps.

“Mother, enough .”

We all glance over the Witch Queen’s shoulder to see a new goddess approach. This is the only daughter I haven’t met, but she’s just as haunting as her twin. She must be Kiputytto, the goddess of pain. She has a hunched, haggard appearance like her mother, with large, weepy eyes and curtains of thick black hair that drag along the ground. Crossing the room, she passes Vammatar and takes hold of her mother’s bony wrist, staying the whip.

I hold my breath, afraid to move, afraid to even blink. Is Kiputytto about to stand up to her mother? Is she about to put the Witch Queen in her place? Oh gods, is the rebellion starting now?

Tuonetar screams a primal scream that raises all the hairs on my arms. Outside in the courtyard, the dogs howl. Next to me, the other girls wince and shiver, hands over ears, trying to block out the sound. I clench my teeth, sagging with relief when she stops on a strangled cry.

“Mother,” Kiputytto coos, her voice now soft and soothing, even as it grates like a boat scraping rocks. “You’ll tire yourself out, dearest. There are other ways of torturing them.”

My blood runs cold. Apparently, this is not the start of a rebellion. The goddess of pain reaches into the deep pocket of her robes and pulls out a small rune stone. She holds it flat in the palm of her gnarled hand and flashes us a cruel smile.

Tuonetar steps back, shoulders heaving. “Yes, daughter,” she says through panting breaths. “Always so clever. What a sweet girl. What a loyal child.”

“Bring my mother a chair,” the pain witch commands.

A dead servant shuffles forward with a stool, placing it before the Queen. Tuonetar sinks onto it regally, conjuring a goblet for herself with her wand. She takes a deep drink of the wine, letting some of the bloodred liquid dribble down her chin. Then she raises the goblet in assent. “Begin, daughter.”

The four of us stand there frozen. Next to me, Helmi and Satu squeeze in tighter. Kiputytto turns slowly to face the girls still lying on the floor. With a menacing smile, she turns the stone over once in her palm. Lilja and Salla cry out, shrieking and writhing on the floor. Their bodies wriggle like fish out of water as the goddess of pain turns her little stone once... twice... three more times. Their tortured cries burrow into my chest.

Tuonetar watches disinterestedly for a few more moments before she holds up a hand. Kiputytto pauses, her fingers closing around the stone in her palm, and Salla and Lilja go limp on the floor, overcome with pain and exhaustion.

“Now, let’s take a moment to talk about actions and consequences.” Tuonetar speaks to them like they’re a pair of naughty children who stole a handful of berries meant for a pie. “What action did you take that displeased me so greatly?”

None of us dares to move.

“I’m speaking to you, you wretched beasts,” she screams.

“We—tried—to leave,” Salla pants, unable to lift herself up on her shaky hands.

“Yes, you thought you could just swim across my river, and I’d be none the wiser, didn’t you?” Her voice drips with disappointment. “You were mistaken, for you are stupid and worthless. Say it .”

“We’re stupid,” Salla blurts as Lilja mumbles something that sounds like the word “worthless.”

“ Sit up ,” she commands with a wave of her wand. The girls are both yanked into a sitting position as though by an invisible hand. Tuonetar’s voice shifts to be all simpering sweetness again. “And why would I be so greatly disappointed by this deep and treacherous betrayal?”

“Because we’re your captives,” Lilja hisses through clenched teeth.

“You are my guests ,” she corrects. “I have fed you and clothed you. I’ve provided warm fires and soft feather beds. Just imagine the poor, wretched souls above, trapped in life, toiling in the dirt like so many filthy voles. Here, your every need is met,” she says, gesturing around the stark emptiness of her hall, adorned with only the skulls of the dead. “All I have asked from you in return is that you help me without complaint. This was too much for you, apparently. I fear I can expect nothing less from ungrateful worms—”

“You are my captor ,” Lilja shrieks. “You’re a monster, and you don’t deserve the title of Queen. I will never stop trying to escape. You’ll have to kill me, you horrible witch!” With that, she spits on the floor at Tuonetar’s feet.

My heart stops.

To my surprise, Tuonetar smiles, her teeth blackened and cracked. “Thank you for your candor. I wanted to know which of you first had the idea to leave, and now I do.”

I have to fight to keep my mind from playing tricks on me. Lilja looks so much like my Siiri. The same blonde hair, the same proud spirit, the same defiant will to live. Siiri would never have survived this place. Blessed Ilmatar, thank you for sparing her this fate.

“So, now we must turn to consequences,” Tuonetar says, a cruel glint in her eyes. “What should the consequence be for two ungrateful worms who so monstrously abuse the hospitality of their beneficent hostess?”

Lilja’s shoulders sag in defeat. “You’re right. It was my idea. Salla didn’t want to do it. She didn’t know I was tricking her.”

“Tricking her?” The Witch Queen tips her head to the side.

“I planned to use her,” Lilja admits. “I knew I could swim faster than her. She was to be my escape.”

“You needed bait,” Tuonetar clarifies. She turns to Salla. “Do you hear that? You were nothing but bait on a hook. Surely, that kind of treachery must come with some consequence. I’ll leave it to you to decide her fate.”

Salla looks stricken. “What?”

“She was using you, worm. She admits it,” the Queen replies. “Decide how she will be punished.”

“Take my life,” Lilja pleads, crawling forward on her knees.

I close my eyes, imagining Siiri in the same position, pleading for my life, fighting to the bitter end.

“Please, show Salla mercy,” Lilja begs. “Kill me—”

“Lilja, no,” Salla cries.

“ Lilja, no, ” Tuonetar echoes in a mocking tone. She turns to Salla. “It appears she wants you to kill her.” She flicks her wand, and a sword appears at Salla’s feet. “Go on then, do it.”

Salla shakes her head, not looking at the blade. “Beat us. Use the lash again, turn the stone, lock us in our rooms and throw away the key, only let us both live. Please, goddess. I want to live.”

Her words tear at my heart. Have I not said almost the same words to Jaako night after night? Am I not thinking them now, plotting with Loviatar to end this wretched curse?

Tuonetar puts a thoughtful hand to her chin. “One of you wants to live, and one wants to die? Easy enough. I grant your wish.” She turns to Kiputytto as she stands. “Torture them a while longer, daughter. Then kill the earless one.”

“No,” Salla sobs.

“No?” Tuonetar sneers. “Very well, then, you can be the one to die. I’m afraid I can’t keep you both. Who knows how you’ll plot and scheme together, and we simply can’t have that. Be done with it, daughter,” she says with a wave of her hand.

Kiputytto steps forward, her open palm outstretched.

Lilja and Salla scramble across the floor clinging to each other.

“The rest of you are here to witness,” Tuonetar calls to the room. “This is an important lesson that must be learned. I am a benevolent hostess. All I ask is that you treat me with the respect I am due as your Queen.”

I don’t dare look away as Kiputytto begins turning her stone, for Tuonetar doesn’t watch the girls writhing and screaming on the floor. She watches us. She watches me most of all. I feel her eyes on me, boring into me with concentrated hate. I will myself to make my eyes unfocus. I look through the floor, not at what writhes atop it.

But nothing can block out the screams.

Tuonetar holds up a hand, and her daughter stops turning her stone. The Witch Queen sweeps forward, dropping to her knees, her pristine robes billowing around her. She lowers her face to meet Salla’s eyes, stroking her wet hair with a bony, gentle hand. Salla whimpers and flinches at her touch. “You know I never had any intention of letting either of you live,” she says, her voice soft. “It’s important to me that you understand my nature. You were both dead the moment you crossed my river.”

Salla’s frail body shakes uncontrollably as she gives the faintest of nods. Then she closes her eyes, ready to succumb. Next to her, Lilja lies still, her breathing ragged.

“Thank you, worms,” the Witch Queen coos. “Thank you for seeing me as I am.” She stands and places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Finish them, daughter. When you’re done, feed them to Kalma. She’ll find use for their corpses.”

With that, the Witch Queen sweeps from the great hall. Vammatar follows her out, leaving us alone with Kiputytto. The door slams shut behind them.

I clench my jaw, bracing myself for the horror to come. There can be no escape from Tuonela. Many before have tried and failed. Kiputytto begins her torture again. Each turn of her little stone hardens my resolve. There is only one immortal in this realm with the power to save us, and he’s just as trapped as we are.

I have to find him. I have to find Tuoni.