29

Aina

The iron horse races through the dark woods of Tuonela. Tuoni’s arms hold me fast as I hold on for dear life, my fingers tangled in the horse’s mane. We crest a hill, breaking through the trees. All across the frozen clearing, the dead wait for us, forming a kind of processional line that leads up the hill. Tuoni’s palace looms in the dark, lit by a thousand flaming torches, so much brighter and more welcoming than before. The two stone towers spiral into the sky to north and south, separated in the middle by the grand receiving hall.

The horse slows to a trot as trumpets blast in welcome from the walls of the palace. More dead swarm the field, raising banners and slamming their swords and axes against their shields, welcoming the lord of death home. As we approach the palace gates, they swing open to admit us, revealing a dark courtyard.

Foreboding sinks deep in my chest. The echo of my husband’s hesitation down the bond leaves me feeling sick. “Why is she not resisting us?”

He doesn’t answer, and the sick feeling grows.

The horse sweeps into the dark courtyard, his hooves clattering on the stones.

“Guards!” Tuoni shouts.

Feet stomp in thick boots. Swords rattle. In moments, a troop of soldiers files in from behind us. They flood the courtyard, every fifth one armed with a torch that casts brilliant light.

I blink, raising a hand to shield my eyes. This courtyard is the one I passed through every morning on my way to the weaving room. The walled garden is to the right, the bustling kitchen courtyard to the left.

Tuoni presses against my back, bending me forward as he slips off the giant horse and drops to the ground. Then he reaches both hands up for me, waiting. I slide off the iron horse’s back and Tuoni catches me easily. He sets me on my feet, his strong hands at my waist. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft.

I lift my chin to meet his mismatched gaze.

“You are queen now.” He places a hand over my heart, his large fingers splayed. “Take your power, Aina. You fought for this moment—for yourself, for me, for all the maidens past and future who might be abused by the Witch Queen. I go with you, but it will be for you to finish what you started. Are you ready?”

Overthrow the Witch Queen. How can anyone be ready for such a task? My mind flashes with images of great heroes who journeyed to Tuonela to perform feats of daring. Never mind that most of those heroes died a fool’s death. I have no sword or kantele. I have no warrior’s heart. My weapon is the knitting needle. My power, according to Tuoni, is the ability to see the good in people. But what good is there in such a twisted witch?

“Aina...” Tuoni cups my cheek. The chain of his confinement still hangs from his wrist. Feeling the sting of that cold metal against my skin, my resolve hardens.

“I’m ready.”

With a nod, he offers his hand, a gallant lord to his lady. Taking a deep breath, I place my hand atop his. Not waiting another moment, he strides on, his dead guard making way for us. They stomp their feet in time to our steps, rattling their swords against their shields as we walk. Tuoni strides with purpose. All doors open to him. Torches flare to life as he passes. I glance around, gasping in surprise as each room we enter changes. Loviatar warned me this would happen. The magic of the palace is responding to his presence; the very walls are welcoming him home.

Cold and dark are swept away with warm golden light. Spiders skitter down into cracks; walls of twisted skulls are transformed. No more, the anguished faces of the tortured. Now there are thick tapestries depicting scenes of nature and the gods. The stone floors are covered in fragrant rush mats that keep away the cold. It’s beautiful to behold. Tuonetar’s magic is nothing to Tuoni’s. This thought fills me with confidence as we reach the receiving room, the room where I first met the other girls.

“Stay close to me,” I whisper, weaving my fingers through Tuoni’s.

He lowers our hands between us and nods at the guards to the left and right of the doors. A trumpet sounds from within, and the guards push the doors open. Our retinue floods in first, their flaming torches warming me as they pass.

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.

“You dare —” 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 Kiputytto. Kiputytto 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.

Suddenly, I see the truth so clearly. All this time, she’s been helping Tuoni. She kept bringing us here in the hopes that one of us would finally free her father. In her chaos, I suppose Tuonetar chose to see only what she wanted to see. She saw Kalma aiding her in torturing him. What fun they had together, scaring us, hurting us, killing us.

But it was Kalma in the forest who directed me to Lilja and Inari. It was Kalma who raised Inari from the dead. Kalma dragged the girls away. Did she hide them? Did she put them to rest? Her methods were cruel and misguided, but whatever kind of monster Kalma is, she’s loyal to her father. She loves him in her way. For now, that’s enough.

I offer her a soft smile. “Thank you, Kalma. You’ve made your father very happy. Would you now be so kind as to remove Tuonetar from my chair?”

“You little witch,” Tuonetar shrieks, her fingers clawing at Kalma’s bony hand. “You will not command my daughter. You—” She sputters and chokes as Kalma squeezes tighter, lifting her by the throat. “I’ll kill you—wretched snake in my garden—”

Kalma lifts the Witch Queen off her throne. Tuonetar’s feet dangle in the air, kicking helplessly as she tries to gain purchase. Her beautiful copper robes trail along the floor as Kalma steps back. As soon as Tuonetar is lifted away, the throne transforms. The skulls and bones are replaced with ornate silver.

“No—unhand me—” Tuonetar struggles and shrieks, fighting Kalma’s iron grip as the death witch drags her back, pulling her into the shadows of the room.

Tuoni steps up behind me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “Come, wife.”

Hearing that word, the other girls gasp. “Wife?” Riina whispers. “Did he just call her wife?” They look to me with wide eyes, shocked and confused.

Tuoni offers his hand, and I take it, letting him guide me up onto the dais. It’s a surreal moment, watched by everyone—living and dead—as I take a seat on my silver throne. Beside me, Tuoni sits, taking my hand in his own. We face an odd crowd of assembled dead, the death witches, and three terrified mortal women.

“All here now must bear witness,” he calls to the room. “Tuonetar is forthwith stripped of her titles and power in this realm.” Turning to me, he smiles. “You will show all due deference to my wife. Kneel before Aina, Queen of Tuonela!”

As one, the dead in the room drop to one knee, their heads bowed. I fight my own trembling as I glance to where Tuoni’s daughters sit. Vammatar stiffly inclines her head, a deep scowl on her face, but the twins do nothing.

“Bring forth Tuonetar,” Tuoni calls with a raise of his hand.

I hold to the arms of my silver chair as Kalma sweeps out of the shadows, dragging a struggling Tuonetar along with her.

“You’re all a bunch of faithless—” Tuonetar shrieks as Kalma’s other hand rises to cover her mouth. She kicks and squirms, biting at her daughter’s bony hand. Blood drips between Kalma’s fingers, but her hand remains still, stopping the Witch Queen’s poisonous words.

Tuoni rises from his golden chair. All light in the room seems to dim. I fight the urge to lean away as shadows creep outward from him. Flames flicker on his tongue as he speaks, his words laced with deep magic. “Tuonetar, I remove you from your seat of power and banish you from this court.” He holds out his hands, showing the broken, dangling chains on his wrists. “These chains were once my prison. At long last, they shall be yours.”

I gasp, leaning back in my throne, as the chains disappear. In another moment, Tuonetar shrieks and wails behind her gag, her body going limp in Kalma’s arms. The chains are now on her wrists.

“I sentence you to a life without magic,” Tuoni declares. “The chains that held me so well shall now hold you. From this day, you shall not conjure so much as a drop of jam for your porridge.”

Kalma drops her mother to the floor. Tuonetar sinks like a stone to her knees, the chains rattling on the floor as she scrambles forward like a panicked spider. “My lord, no,” she begs. “Anything but this—”

But Tuoni is unyielding. “A life without magic seems a fair trade for the chaos you’ve wrought, the mortal lives you’ve destroyed, the horrors you’ve unleashed!”

Tuonetar pushes up off the floor, her shackled hands shaking. Her body goes still, her eyes shut tight. I lean away, heart racing, as she tries to spin her magic. Then the Witch Queen screams, her body convulsing as the manacles creak and tighten. Blood like thick, black tar drips from her wrists. “Noooo,” she wails. Falling forward, she pounds her fists on the stone floor, the chains rattling. She looks up, panting like a dog, her eyes locked on the king. “Do not take my magic. I will do anything, my lord. Anything you ask of me—”

Down the bond, I feel Tuoni’s rage surge and break upon the rocks. He sweeps forward off the dais, the fires surging higher. They blaze with the heat of a thousand suns. I wince, blinking back tears of pain. He grabs the Witch Queen by the throat. “I asked for nothing but your fealty!” he bellows, his face inches from hers. “I have always given you a long leash, Tuonetar, but then you choked me with it!” He lowers his voice. “I will never take you at your word again. All friendship between us is now severed. All love, all loyalty. Was it worth it, Queen of the Ashes? Shall you now be content to rule over the worms?”

Her manacled hands wrap around his wrist as she gazes up at him with those bloodshot eyes. The blazing fires twist both their faces with flickering shadows. “Give me the chance to prove myself—”

He shoves her away in disgust. “You had a thousand chances. You’ve left me no choice, Tuonetar. Your chaos must now be contained.”

“My chaos is the only worth I have to you,” she cries from her knees. “For what am I if not a foil for your obstinate, ludicrous notions of a peaceful death?”

“You take your chaos too far,” he counters, turning back towards his throne. “You always have. There must be order! This is something you could never understand.”

“You’re a fanciful child,” she hisses, crawling after him. “There must be more to death than this tedious fade to nothing. There must be games and intrigue, surprises and shocks. For what is life without the dreadful threat of an unexpected death? You need me! You all need me!”

Tuoni sighs. I can feel the weariness in him. Slowly, he turns, peering down at the witch. “Why do you think I’m letting you live?”

She blinks up at him, holding out her hands. “Take off these chains. I swear I’ll do better. Tuoni, my old friend, please —”

He holds her gaze. “Fear not, Tuonetar. You will still be a goddess. Your continued existence guarantees that at least a little chaos shall remain in death. But at long last, it will be tempered by order and justice.” After a moment, he waves a tired hand. “Guards, take her.”

Tuonetar shrinks back, shaking her head. “Don’t do this. Tuoni, don’t—”

“Secure Tuonetar in the north tower,” he commands. “Her exile begins now. She shall have an armed guard night and day. No one shall be permitted in or out. Let her madness be her only companion.”

“No—”

Kalma steps aside as two dead guards sweep forward. Grabbing Tuonetar under the arms, they pull her to her feet. A third guard steps to Tuoni’s side and holds out the witch’s willow wand. Tuoni takes it with a grimace, slipping it inside his cloak.

“Daughters,” Tuonetar wails. “My darling girls, help me. I am still your mother. Don’t let him lock me away!”

I glance to Loviatar. Her face is turned, not towards the Witch Queen, but towards me. She waits for me to act. My eyes grow wide as Vammatar does the same, a deep scowl marring the lines of her beautiful face. To either side of her, the twins of pain and suffering scowl, arms crossed. Even Kalma watches me. The unspoken language I share with Siiri speaks to me from all sides now. They whisper the same thing.

Do something.

“Wait.” Pushing out of my chair, I stand. “My lord husband, wait.”

Tuoni glares over his shoulder. “Stay out of this.”

His dismissal burns in my gut. I turn instead to the guards. “Stop!” I call out.

To my continued surprise, the dead guards stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vammatar smirk.

Tuoni rounds on me. “You will not interfere in this, wife. I will have justice!”

“And your justice will be tempered by my mercy,” I counter, holding my ground.

“You cannot show Tuonetar mercy! She doesn’t understand it. She will only see it as weakness.”

“I do not seek mercy for Tuonetar,” I counter. “I seek it for your daughters.”

“None of my daughters are on trial.” Glaring at them he adds an ominous, “Yet.”

Taking a breath, I try to slow the beating of my heart. “I cannot pretend to know the nature of a god,” I continue. “But I do know the nature of a daughter. I am a daughter too, my lord, and I love my mother. To banish Tuonetar is to punish your daughters. Whatever else she has done, she loves them in her way. As they love her.”

His frustration with me threatens to boil over. “What is it that you want, wife?”

I glance quickly around, thinking through my options. I can’t possibly let her roam free. And I won’t dare remove her shackles. He’s right, she’ll kill me without a second thought. My gaze alights on the row of tables stacked against the far wall, and I speak before I realize I’ve even spoken. “Supper, my lord.”

“What?”

I take a hesitant step forward. “Tuonetar will be confined to the north tower. She will wear your chains and practice no magic... but she will join us for supper.”

He huffs a mirthless laugh. “You cannot be serious.”

“Every night, she will be brought down to dine with us and your daughters,” I go on. “Mercy, my lord. If not for Tuonetar, then for your children who love their mother.”

“I would rather starve than break bread with you, worm ,” Tuonetar snarls.

I turn to face her. “No one said you had to eat. But you will sit at my table all the same. I’ve had quite enough of separating daughters from their mothers.”

She scoffs. “You think you can win them over with kindness? Fool girl! They are my creatures. I raised them in the dark. I as good as suckled them at my breast. My chaos is theirs now. It runs like a poison in their veins. You cannot root me out.”

“I would never dare try to replace you in their cold, unfeeling hearts,” I reply sweetly. “You are their mother, Tuonetar. I am just their queen.”

She snarls, lunging for me. The dead guards hold her back. I wave my hand in dismissal, and they drag her kicking and screaming away. As the doors slam shut, Tuoni turns to me, his hand cupping my face. “You are formidable, wife. Iron mercy suits you.”

I find him a smile too, even as my heart races. Holding on to my faith, I make yet another rash decision. My left hand rises, covering his on my cheek. As I step in, I drop my right down to my belt and jerk my knife free. I angle the tip at his throat and press in with the blade hard enough to draw a drop of his immortal blood.

Tuoni goes still as stone, his dark eye glittering. The tension in the room pulls tighter than a bowstring as the remaining witches and the dead follow the line of my knife to the death god’s throat.

Slowly, Tuoni presses in against the blade. “Do it, wife. Show me your violence.”

“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.”