27

Aina

I’m standing in the dark of the forest, snow on the ground, a tree burning to ash before my eyes, and I’m not alone. I stand in my husband’s embrace. The word sounds so strange to me, even unspoken. Husband. My husband. I take in the features of his bearded face—the tilt of his lips, the wild tangle of his black hair, the way the scar over his eye creases as he gazes down at me. I shift my hold on him, hands trembling as I run my palms over his forearms.

“We must finish the ceremony,” he says in that deep voice. It’s rich and melodic yet edged in iron. He’s not asking me. His hands are firm against my hips, keeping me close.

I nod, heart in my throat. “Yes, I—tell me what to do.”

His mismatched eyes watch me, so like my raven. All this time, he was Jaako? In the hours of my long confinement, he was always there. I whispered my secrets to him in the dark, all my heart’s desires. He knows everything about me. But I know nothing of him, at least nothing real. I don’t know the limits of his magic. He can become a raven, control fire and the dead, change his appearance at will. What else can he do? How does his magic compare to the Witch Queen’s? Can he truly protect me from her?

“Aina,” he says again, his hand brushing under my chin. “We must finish the ceremony.”

“How do we...” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I pull away from him. “Oh—my lord, but I—I’ve never—”

“I will not hurt you,” he soothes, bringing his lips towards mine. “I vowed kindness, remember? It’s only a kiss.”

But it’s not only a kiss to me. I’ve never kissed a man before. A few boys in the village have asked. Two even tried without asking. Siiri took care of one. The lad couldn’t sit for a week. Her brothers took care of the other. Now my new husband wants to kiss me. He wants to bind me to him, blood with blood, soul with soul. The curse is not broken until our marriage is sealed. His face inches closer, one calloused hand cupping my cheek. I hold still, knowing Tuoni is about to kiss me.

Tuoni .

Recalling his name, the dream of standing with a handsome stranger in the dark snaps with the violence of a tree crashing to earth. Tuoni, god of death, holds me in his arms. Death wears many faces for me now—Kalma the destroyer, Tuonetar the deceiver. His face overwhelms me—the intensity in his iron gaze, the determined set of his jaw. I see the truth in his eyes: He wants me. He craves me. He means to claim me for his own.

“Wait.” I step back, tripping on the hem of my dress. My cowl slips from my hair, falling around my shoulders.

He glances around the dark wood, seeing things I can’t. “Aina, we have little time.” He holds out a hand to me, the chains of his long confinement still dangling from his wrist. “Come, my love. The coup has begun, but my curse is not yet fully broken—”

“Wait,” I say again, clutching at my chest. My heart feels like it’s beating more quickly than a bee’s wings. “All this time—all these deaths—and now you’re here. You’re... you .”

He lowers his hand back to his side, his dark brow furrowed. “I am me, yes.” He tips his head slightly to the side, so like the raven. “I fail to understand why you hesitate. A moment ago, you were so sure—”

“A moment ago, you were a tree!” I drag both hands through my hair. “Before that you were a raven. Oh gods, this is madness. This can’t be real. No, no, no—”

“Aina...” He approaches as if I’m a startled doe. He’s so tall, his shoulders broad, even under the thickness of the wolf pelt. His aura pulls at me, luring me closer. My very blood hums as I feel a kind of need, an ache to be closer to him. Stepping away makes the humming louder.

“What is this?” I whisper, one hand over my heart. “This humming. This feeling.”

“I can’t be sure,” he replies. “I think it must be our blood bond.”

My brows lift in surprise. “You feel it too?”

He nods, pressing a large hand over his chest. “I feel you here, my love. I feel your fear, your hesitancy. It coils under my ribs like a basket of eels. It is... strange,” he adds with a smile.

“And I feel your surety,” I say, awed by the realization. His confidence sits like a stone in my chest, leaving less space for my doubt. He fears nothing. Why would he? I feel more too—his curiosity, his eagerness, his barely contained rage. He wants to kiss me nearly as badly as he wants to rip Tuonetar from her throne and cast her into a fiery pit.

“You’re afraid of me,” he murmurs.

I can feel him tugging at the threads of our strange new bond. Weighted warps tie us together. Like a weaver, he reaches out, plucking at each thread, testing it, learning how it fits within the tapestry of us.

“You fear I mean to trick you as Tuonetar did,” he says, so easily unraveling me. “You fear more cruelty, more violence.”

“Of course I do. How can I not in this dark place?”

“Tuonela is a peaceful realm—”

“You have been absent for a long time, my lord,” I say over him. “The Tuonela I know is a land of unspeakable cruelty, a land of senseless death, panic, and festering hopelessness. Even your daughters are sick with it.”

“Tuonetar is a curse on this realm,” he growls. “She infects everything with her poison. The Tuonela you know is diseased, Aina. It reflects her chaos.” He holds out his hand again. “Together, you and I will set it right.”

I feel him inside my chest, pulling at me through the blood bond. “Did you know this would happen? Did you know the marriage would bind us in this way?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I hoped,” he admits.

I search his face, determined to understand. “Explain.”

“Others among the gods have completed the ritual of marriage in the old way,” he replies. “Tapio and Mielikki, Ahti and Vellamo—they are joined in all ways. They have children of their blood. So I knew what to anticipate. But as you are mortal, I expected it to feel more... muted. I am quite pleased at your vibrancy,” he adds, rubbing at his chest again. “The fragility of your life is like a tender flower blooming too early in a bed of snow. You’re so scared of death. It fascinates me—”

“I told you, my lord, I’m not afraid of death,” I counter. “I’m afraid of dying . I’m afraid of how the Witch Queen will torment me.” Tears sting my eyes as I glance around. “This all feels like one more trick. And I still don’t understand—why did you do this? To what possible end could you have need of a mortal bride?”

“Why does anyone marry? Is it not the condition of life to find someone to pass through it at your side? A partner and helpmate? Someone to share with you in all your burdens and triumphs?” He pauses, his expression veiled. “But all mortals come to me already dead. Can’t you understand? I seek the joy and wonder of watching a mortal live. I want to see it for myself. I want to hold your mortality in my hands and marvel at it, for you are so beautifully made. Do you not see how rare you are in this realm? How precious—”

“If you wanted to see how mortals live, then go to the realm of the living,” I cry. “Do not drag us down here to rot in the dark. You are utterly selfish, my lord. If you truly cared for mortals as you claim, you would never have done this to me, to any of us. You would seek us out in the light of day—”

“I cannot leave this place.” He speaks softly, his words swollen with sadness.

I go still, chest heaving. “No—I—Kalma, she came for us. And Loviatar said—”

“My daughters may leave Tuonela. They come and go at will. But I am bound to this place. I am Tuonela, and it is me. I cannot leave.” He steps closer, taking me by the shoulders. “And I never wanted this, I swear it on my undying life. I never meant to hurt any of you. But Tuonetar has always wanted to rule on her own. She saw an opening, and she took it. I intend to repay her duplicity tenfold. I will take everything from her, and you will help me.”

“What can you possibly expect me to do beyond freeing you?”

“You are my wife, bonded to me by blood,” he declares. “Seal this marriage, and Tuonela shall be yours. Together, we will cleanse it of Tuonetar’s fetid magic. We will make it beautiful again, peaceful and pure.”

“Do I have a choice?”

He smiles softly. “Aina, you’ve chosen this every step of the way.”

My hands wrap around his wrists, my fingers brushing the cold metal of his chains. “What choices have I made, my lord?”

“You chose to save your Siiri,” he replies. “You had a choice to open your window to me as the raven. You had a choice to show me kindness, to share what little you had with me. I will tell you now that the others were not so kind. Most of the maidens never opened their windows, too afraid even to look out. Those who did never shared food with me. Some even fought to make me their next meal.”

I fight a sad smile, thinking of Lilja. No doubt she would have cooked him in a pot if he had been too slow to get away.

“But you gave everything away,” he goes on, pride in his voice. “You shared your food and your fire, your stories, your laughter. Even when you were scared, even when you felt hopeless, you always had a smile for me, your raven.”

This is impossible. I can’t think with him this close. Can’t breathe.

His thumbs brush the tears from my cheeks as he lowers his face towards mine. “You had so little to give, yet still you shared more. You shared your bed and your warmth. You shared the comfort of your touch. Even trapped as I was as the raven, you came to need me... as I needed you. I need you still. I ache with it, my love.”

My cheeks warm at his words, even more so at the memory of stroking his feathered back in the dark of my room, seeking out his comfort. I cannot lie to him, not with this surge of feeling humming along the threads of our blood bond. But I try anyway. “That’s not fair, my lord. I didn’t know who you really were—”

“But you knew the raven was more than he seemed. You knew, Aina. You’re far too clever to have doubted who and what I was. The moment you saw me in the tree, you became resolved. I saw it in your eyes. You could have walked away, but you stood before the alder tree as my equal, a queen before her king. Will you now deny what we both know hides in the center of your tender, beating heart?”

My heart dares try to stop. “What do we know?”

A smile curves his mouth as he brushes a thumb over my parted lips. “We know you want to kiss me. You’ve had a taste of power, and now you want more. You’re desperate for it—”

I slap his hand away. “I have no power, my lord. I have nothing.”

“Is that really what you think?” He looks almost amused. It riles me still further.

“You say I gave you everything, and it’s true,” I reply. “I gave the raven every story, every hope and fear, every dream. I kept nothing for myself. There is nowhere left to hide. You have all you need to destroy me, and I am powerless to stop you.”

“You’re wrong.” He takes me by the wrist, turning my hand palm up. “You want to know your power, wife?” Slowly, he traces a finger over the faint white scar on my palm. “You have the god of death in the palm of your hand.”

I shiver, too enraptured to pull away.

He lowers his forehead until it’s all but touching mine. “Mortals pray for rain and a good harvest. They worship Ukko and Tapio. The others are honored with festivals and sacrifices. Meanwhile, I am feared. Only feared. My name is whispered in the dark. My world is the setting of your nightmares. No one can escape me, mortal or immortal. Yes, I am all power and control... and I am yours.”

Holding tight to my wrist, he lifts my hand, pressing it flat against the thick wool of his tunic, just over his heart. “You need no weapons nor secret magic to destroy me, wife. Just keep recoiling from my touch. Deny me your love. Break me open with your indifference. You will devastate me.”

His words leave me breathless. The surety of them is reinforced through our bond. He is stone wrapped in iron, unyielding, steadfast. “You deserve a wife of your choosing—”

“I have chosen,” he counters. “I choose the mortal who clings to fragile hope like dew on the grass. I choose the mortal who resolutely sees the good in everyone. You saw it in me as the raven. You see it in the dead, in your fellow captives, even in my wretched daughters, so undeserving of the name. You are a light in the darkness that is my world of unending night.”

I tremble as his words bloom in my chest, spreading heat down to my very core.

He inches closer, his hand splaying protectively over mine on his chest. “In all my years of undying, I have never felt the warmth of the sun on my face... until you looked at me. You say you are powerless, but it is the sun that feeds the grain. My goddess, my queen, I am at your mercy.”

I gasp, torn between pulling away and leaning closer. Tuoni stands before me, offering me everything—his home, his heart, a piece of his crown. This is dangerous. He is dangerous. Gods, but this pull between us is so strong. I feel it down to my bones. In a fit of abandon, I lift up on my toes. Clutching his tunic with both hands, I tip my chin. He’s right, I have to know what it feels like, what it tastes like... just once.

Quivering with nerves, blood on fire, I kiss the god of death.

For the briefest of moments, I know I’ve caught him by surprise. He goes still, his lips unmoving against mine. Has he ever kissed a woman before? I feel his curiosity, his excitement and desire. Suddenly, his arms are around me. His lips are warm, and his beard bristles against my lips. Then he’s kissing me back, his mouth slanting open. It feels strange, even as the rightness of it coils deep inside me, fusing around my very bones.

My hands brush up his chest to grip his shoulders as his strong arms wrap around my waist, nearly lifting me off the ground. I open my mouth to him, deepening our kiss. I drink of him, taking every drop of passion and need he offers me. We’re both hungry and desperate, eager for more. But a snapping of branches has me breaking our kiss.

Tuoni holds tight to me. “Be at ease,” he soothes. “The curse is broken. They will not harm you.”

I press my back to his chest as I peer through the night. Trees loom all around. He wraps a protective arm across my chest, his hand at my shoulder. My free hand drops instinctively to the little knife at my hip.

“You won’t need that.” His fingers brush over mine wrapped around the knife hilt. “They’re just curious.”

“What’s out there?” I whisper. “I can’t see.”

“Come,” he calls out in his deep voice. “Come, meet my wife.”

All around us, shadows move. On silent feet, a horde of the waking dead come stumbling forward. Dozens. More than I’ve ever seen at once. Many are armed soldiers bearing swords and shields, bows and arrows, great, menacing axes. Women too—old women, hunched and ragged, emaciated women sick with fevers, young women carrying dead infants in their arms.

The god of death keeps me close, his hold on me relaxed as he lets the dead step towards us. “Welcome, friends,” he calls out. “Meet your new queen.”

“Queen?” I whisper.

“Our kiss sealed your fate,” he replies, brushing his lips to the back of my head. “My power is in you now. The dead are yours to command.”

I go still, unable to stop the fear from creeping in. “It’s not possible.”

“Give them an order,” he says, his voice low in my ear. “Prove your power.”

Heart in my throat, I watch as the dead approach. More are coming through the dark. Leaning against Tuoni’s firm shoulder, I call out in a trembling voice. “Please... don’t come any closer.”

As one, the dead stop at my command.

Tuoni laughs, his exuberance barreling towards me through the bond. He leans down, brushing his lips against my temple. “Come, wife. This is a new beginning. Let me show you all that Tuonela can be.”

I flinch as he lets out a shrill whistle, his arm dropping away from me. An unearthly howl echoes through the trees to my left. Tuoni takes my hand, leading me forward through the snow. The sound of pounding hooves has me turning. I watch in awe as a mighty horse comes bursting through the trees. His eyes glow red as coals. Deep inside the belly of the beast are the flames of an iron furnace. His metal sides creak as he pants, tossing his head.

I clutch Tuoni as he leads me forward. He speaks to the horse in a language I don’t understand. The horse snorts, his breath a billowing cloud of steam. He turns his coal-red eyes on me. “What is it?” I whisper, holding Tuoni’s hand in both of my own like a scared child.

“Hiiden hevonen,” he replies, giving the horse’s head another pat. “A gift from the goblins, and my old friend. He’s born of the mountain, forged in her unquenchable fires.”

“He’s fearsome,” I admit. Tuoni leads me closer, his hands lowering to my hips, and I know instantly his intention. “Oh, my lord, you cannot mean for me to ride him.”

He laughs. “What better way to make an entrance?”

“An entrance where? My lord, where are we going?”

“A queen needs a throne, does she not? A witch now blights yours. But fear not, my love. You will root her out.”

“Me? Tuoni, I can’t— ah —”

The death god takes me by the hips and lifts me, placing me on the back of the great iron horse. The beast tosses his head, and I tangle my fingers in his coarse black mane.

Tuoni climbs atop the horse behind me, his arms wrapping around me to reach for the thick leather reins. The strength of his will echoes down the bond. “Tuonetar’s reign of chaos is at an end. Tuonela has a new queen.”