37

Aina

I wake disoriented in a new room. The curtains around the bed are pulled shut, wrapping me in warmth. I blink a few times in the welcoming darkness. Yesterday, I woke in the room Tuonetar designed to be my cage. This morning, I wake in the queen’s suite.

And I wake alone.

After our late-night ride, Tuoni returned me to this room without crossing the threshold. He stood on the dark landing and bid me goodnight. No chaste touches, no searing kisses. Nothing. Is he really so committed to waiting? His only request was that I not leave the room until morning. Feeling safe for the first time since arriving in Tuonela, sleep came easy.

Now, I’m awake.

I sit up, my unbound hair spilling down my back. As I pull back the curtain, there comes a knock at the door. A fire burns high in the hearth, and candles glow along the mantle. More candles light the table where breakfast is laid.

My gaze darts to the locked door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Me. The god of death has no need for further identification.

“Coming.” I slip out of bed in nothing but a thin shift and wool socks. I wrap my robe around my shivering shoulders and hurry over to the door, pulling it open.

Tuoni stands on my doorstep. He looks different from last night, and just the same. He has bathed. The ash that greyed his hair is gone. Now he is the sleek, black raven. His hair is tied back, changing the shape of his face. Otherwise, he still wears the clothes of a hunter—dark breeches and boots, a thick wool tunic, a cowl.

He looks me over from my unbound hair to my socked feet. “You slept well?”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you.” At his annoyed look, I smile. “Yes, Tuoni.”

“I have some things to attend to today outside the palace,” he says. “I’ll ask that if you leave this room, you bring a maid. You had one from before. Is she still acceptable to you?”

I blink in confusion. “A maid? Do you mean Kukka?”

“Who?”

“The dead maid Vammatar assigned to me.”

He nods.

“Yes, she’s acceptable.”

He snaps his fingers, and Kukka appears in a swirl of shadow. “Serve your mistress,” he commands.

Kukka bows her head, hurrying over to the table to prepare my tea.

“I can leave the room?” I ask, watching her work with her odd, broken fingers.

He frowns, one brow raised. “You’re not my prisoner. You’re my wife and my queen. Soon we’ll have you crowned, and all the gods in all the realms will honor you.” With that, he turns to leave.

“Wait,” I call out.

He pauses, his hand on the door, not turning around.

“Will I see you later?”

He turns, his face unreadable. He’s quiet down the bond too. “Is that what you want?”

Slowly, I nod.

His mouth twitches with a smile. “Then I will come to you later.”

The thought of freedom is too delicious to ignore. I finish breakfast and dress, tucking my marriage knife at my hip. With Kukka at my side, I journey down the spiraling stone steps in search of my first adventure alone as Queen of Tuonela.

I start in the garden, collecting roots, flowers, and stems to dry for teas. Before long, I find my way to the bustling kitchen courtyard. Kukka holds my foraging basket as all the dead hurry to accommodate me, offering me slices of fresh buttered bread and sweet treats. It feels strange not to see the other girls, but I’m relieved to know they’re safe from Tuonetar’s wickedness.

The others would still be here if not for Loviatar. Two days ago, the blind weaver was my friend, my only ally in this dark place. Now, everything is different. I know more. I see more.

And I have questions.

Steeling myself, I march across to the weaving room. Kukka hurries around me, opening it before I can reach out. Once inside, I breathe deeply of the familiar scents of wood and lanolin. Then I hear the clack, clack, clack .

“She returns,” Loviatar calls without pausing in her work.

I move down the row to where she works alone. “May I sit with you?”

“Sit, don’t sit. You outrank me now... my queen .”

I sink onto the stool she left beside her loom. “I’ve come to ask you something.”

“I am at your disposal, my queen.”

I purse my lips, sensing the teasing in her tone. “Are you quite finished?”

Her hands pause in their work. “Ask.”

“Does Tuonela have a sauna?”

She sighs in annoyance, setting her shuttle down. “We’re not animals, Aina. Of course we have a sauna.”

“Wonderful. Meet me after supper, and you can show me the way.”

At first sight of the sauna, I groan with longing. It’s a small wooden hut, nestled at the edge of the snowy wood, perched beside a dark pool. A narrow dock extends several feet over the water. Beyond the pool, thick pines ring the shore, making the space feel intimate and peaceful. The sauna and the dock are lit with torches, casting a golden glow. Behind me, high on the hill, the palace glows even brighter.

Loviatar walks silently at my side. Kukka walks at my other side, holding a torch aloft. In the golden light, I take her in. She’s still the same Kukka, with her fumbling gait, vacant expression, and broken fingers. But her thin hair is brushed. Her clothes are clean: a white wool dress layered under a grey woolen overdress. Across her chest is embroidered the sign of the black raven, its wings spread wide. From the raven’s head, three lines extend like a sun’s rays.

“I’ve never seen such a sigil before,” I say as we walk.

“Tuonetar banned all signs or mention of the king,” Loviatar replies, her clouded eyes unblinking as she moves unhurriedly to the edge of the pool.

“This is the king’s sigil?” I glance over my shoulder to the pair of dead guards behind us. The sigil on their chests is different. It is still a raven, but instead of a sun’s rays, their ravens wear crowns.

“The maid wears your sign,” Loviatar clarifies.

“My sign?”

“They’re calling it the Sun Raven. The Queen’s Raven.”

I smile, empowered by the idea. A mortal queen that shines with the light of the rising sun. The dark and the light. Death and life. Immortality and mortality.

Loviatar quietly sheds her clothing until she stands naked, her long, black hair plaited down her back. She doesn’t shiver in the winter cold. Ignoring me, she walks right into the frigid pool. Her pale skin is cast into even brighter effect by the darkness of the water. Slowly, she turns, now waist deep. Her chest is marred by thick, raised scars. Down her arms I see evidence of still more pain and suffering. She lifts her tattooed hands from the water, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Do you not wish to bathe, my queen?”

I shed my clothes, handing off each layer to Kukka. The winter chill burns my skin as I hurry over to the pool’s edge. The water is deep and cold. It will sting like a thousand slaps from a nettle. With a squeal, I dive in, letting it claim every inch of my skin. I break the surface with a sharp gasp. “Gods’ blood, it’s f-freezing.”

Loviatar turns with a frown. “You do realize the goddess of illness stands at your side?”

“I do,” I reply, treading water to keep my muscles from turning to ice.

“Do you fear no sickness then?”

I splash her, laughing as she hisses like an angry cat. “Should I be pleased that you’re worried?”

“Do not flatter yourself, little mouse.”

“You said you sometimes go to the realm of the living,” I say, floating away.

“I used to,” she replies. “That was long ago.”

Finding the pebbly bottom, I stand in the water. “You don’t go anymore?”

She glares. “You are too curious for your own good. Ask a question of a witch, and she may decide to answer.”

“You know, the stories and songs paint you as unfeeling and vicious. Some call you even more monstrous than Tuonetar. Some give you another name: Louhi, Witch of the Northland. They tell tales of your children, sent forth as plagues upon the world of men.”

Her hands brushes down the scars on her arms. “Do not speak of my children.”

“So, it’s true? Your sons are the nine plagues of men?”

She purses her lips.

“And what of your nameless daughter? The one you helped to escape—”

“You will not speak of her,” she hisses, turning my way at last.

I cross to her side. “You saved your father. You saved me. You saved the other girls—”

“Because I am selfish and manipulative. Do not paint me as your champion, Aina. I am Loviatar and Louhi, black of heart, old and wicked, worst of all the death-land women. Yes, I know all your wretched songs.”

“I believe them,” I say. “I believe the songs. I believe you are wicked and self-serving. I believe you connive to get your way.” I reach out a hand to her. “But I believe you are more—”

“Don’t. Believe nothing good of me, Aina.” She wades out of the water towards the sauna.

“For weeks, I’ve tried to make sense of all this,” I say, following after her. “Why was I taken? What purpose did I serve? Kalma finally makes sense. She was playing Tuonetar the whole time. Her loyalty to Tuoni is unyielding. She was ready to kill a hundred mortal girls so long as she found the one who could break his curse. She’s a monster. She’s utterly unforgivableand yet I understand her.”

Loviatar scoffs. “She’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

“What I didn’t understand was you,” I call after her. “Why did you shelter me in your hand? Why did you help me get to Tuoni? What did you stand to gain with his freedom and Tuonetar’s fall? Now I know!”

She keeps walking. Wrenching the door of the sauna open, she disappears.

I join her inside. The heat is enough to take my breath away, my senses filling with the smell of warm pine. I blink in the darkness, looking to where the witch already sits, fanning herself with a birch vihta. “I believe you love your children,” I say, closing the door behind me. “You love your daughter. And I believe she was once here in Tuonela. She was the girl you set free.”

Loviatar stills.

“Tuoni took me under the hill last night. I saw, Loviatar. I saw where she lived. Was that place her home... or her prison?”

“He had no right to take you there,” she hisses.

“He grieves her too. His grief is enough to drown him. I feel it through our bond. He loves her, as he loves you—”

“I hate him!” She leaps to her feet, tossing the vihta aside. “How can I not, when loving him has cost me everything?”

“Tell me.”

She growls low in her throat, the sound a mix of anger and pain. “I was on his side from the beginning. I heard all his beautiful dreams. I wanted that Tuonela for myself, for my children. My daughter wanted to help us. We were ready to fight against Tuonetar, ready to make my sisters see reason but we failed. Tuoni is not the only one the Witch Queen punished.”

“What happened?”

Loviatar’s eyes gleam in the dark, as if her memories are a form of vision. “She took her from me. Tuonetar hid her away. For years, I couldn’t find her. I didn’t know whether she was dead or alive. It took a shaman to find her buried under that hill. And it took everything we had to get her out.”

“And under Tuonetar’s rule, she could never safely come back to Tuonela,” I guess. “And you could never leave.”

Slowly, the witch sinks back down onto the wooden bench. “Yes.”

“You helped Tuoni, and it cost you your daughter. So you used Tuonetar’s curse and Kalma’s zeal to find Tuoni a bride that could break his curse. For, only when his curse broke, and he reclaimed Tuonela, could you be free to reunite with your lost daughter.”

A smile quirks her lips as she reaches out and cups my face. “Such a clever girl.”

I brush her hand away. “You never cared about me. You’re just like the others. You sank your claws into me, manipulated me, and served me up to your father as a prize. You won, Loviatar. I am bound to him and to this realm, a life of endless night. And now you’re free. You can leave Tuonela, never to think of me again.”

She picks up the vihta and fans herself. “You’ve been doing so well, little mouse. Don’t disappoint me now by weeping and saying you’ll never forgive me. It’s far too trite, too human.”

“I do,” I say quickly. “I forgive you, Loviatar.”

The witch stills, the birch bundle clutched in her tattooed hand.

“A mother’s love holds fast and forever. If I ever become a mother, I imagine there is nothing I won’t do to keep my children safe. I can forgive you without forgetting. And mark me, witch, I will never forget what you did to me.”

She flutters the vihta again, a proud smile back on her face. “And how shall you punish me, my queen?”

I take in the lines of her face, the fall of her raven-black hair. “I won’t.”

“Aina, you must punish those who wrong you. It’s foolish not to. It’s weak.”

“You would take punishment as absolution,” I reply. “This isn’t about winning and losing for me, Loviatar. This is about my life and having a choice in how I live it. You took that from me as surely as Kalma did. Was it in your power to help me escape this whole time? Could you have saved me, even while Tuoni was bound?”

The witch says nothing.

I sigh. “You chose to help me only as it suited your own gain. To reunite with your daughter, I was the necessary sacrifice. You owe me, Loviatar. Give me her name.”

“Ask me anything else.”

“My mother says names hold deep magic,” I reply. “There is power in knowing a name, and you have kept your daughter’s name from the stories and songs for generations. I was under your power, and now I will have you under mine. Tell me your daughter’s name.”

The witch is quiet for a moment. “You’re right, Aina. A mother’s love is as fierce as a winter storm. I have spent a lifetime protecting my child. I fear my voice can no longer speak her name.”

Setting my anger aside, I place my hand on hers. “This is not a punishment, Loviatar. I vow to you: I will not hurt her or you. This is trust . My trust with you is broken. You broke it. If you ever want to repair it, you know the road.”

Slowly, she nods.

Feeling overheated and overwhelmed, I rise to my feet. “If you demand a punishment, let it be this: You will not leave this realm in search of your daughter before I hear her name from your lips.”

“Aina, no—”

“As Queen of Tuonela, that is my command.”

Loviatar leans back against the wooden wall with a softly muttered curse, her eyes shut in frustration.

Nursing my own pain, I leave her there. Stepping back outside, I hurry through the snow on bare feet, not even feeling the cold as I run naked to the end of the wooden dock. My skin prickles with the cold as I peer into the black water. A shadow of my reflection looks up at me. I frown at her. I hardly recognize myself. Aina Taavintytt?r is sweet and kind. A summer berry, Siiri calls me. To her, I am a paragon of goodness and gentleness. I am peaceful and even-tempered. That’s what men like in a wife, and a wife is all I was ever raised to be.

Now I am someone’s wife, and my every feeling revolts at becoming more like that girl in the water. What did goodness and kindness earn me in this dark place? I have been abused, neglected, tricked, manipulated. My peaceful nature meant I rolled over and watched as others around me fought and died for their freedom. Used by the Witch Queen to torture Tuoni. Used by Kalma to free her father. Used by Loviatar to reunite with her daughter. Used by the others for cruel entertainment. And here I stand, too scared to fight, too timid to demand justice, too shy to admit even to myself the way my body betrays me at Tuoni’s every look and touch.

Rage boils inside me. It has to come out, this hate, this fear, this agonizing feeling of betrayal. Stretching my arms out wide, cold air brushing my naked skin, I let out a feral scream. It echoes out across the water, rippling my reflection. I inch my toes to the edge of the dock, ready to leap—

Clang .

My dead guards stand at the other end of the dock. They slam their swords against the metal of their shields, making that awful noise again. “What are you doing?”

Clang. Clang.

“Stop it,” I cry. The sound sets my teeth on edge.

Kukka slips past them, stumbling forward. Her dead eyes are wide, making the first true expression I’ve ever seen: fear.

A chill slithers down my spine, coiling around my gut. “Kukka, what’s wrong—”

Kukka points over my shoulder.

As I stand there on the dock, cold toes curling around the edge of the wood, something creeps across the dark surface of the water. “Oh gods...”

The shadow creature elongates, taking form, rising up off the water until it steps onto the end of the dock. It looks like shadows stitched into the form of a man, but the proportions are all wrong. It’s impossibly tall, with narrow shoulders and lanky arms. The legs are uneven. It walks with a halting gait, making no noise as it moves. Its eyes are white, blinking like two stars.

I hurry back to Kukka’s side. The dead maid takes my hand in hers, pulling me between the two guards. They square off against the shadow monster, their swords held at the ready. I give the maid’s clammy hand a squeeze. “Go,” I say on a breath. “Fetch Loviatar.”

Kukka hesitates, torn between defending me and following my order.

“Go,” I hiss.

Kukka hurries off towards the sauna. I stand in the snow, naked as a babe, watching as the shadow lets out a bone-chilling screech. It grows to twice its size, its hands lengthening into talon-like claws. It strikes out at the guards, those talons scraping across the metal of their shields. The guards parry, but the blades of their swords simply pass through its body.

“Help me,” I whisper to the dark.

The creature makes quick work of the guards, smashing them to the ground with a few strikes of its powerful hands.

Behind me, the door of the sauna blasts open. Loviatar strides out, an open robe around her naked shoulders. “Kalma,” she shouts, her voice laced with the magic of summoning. “Aina, get back,” she adds at me.

A jet of light whirls through the air, passing right over my shoulder. It’s a flaming torch, thrown by Loviatar. The torch passes through the shadow with a grotesque crackling sound. It clatters down to the dock before tumbling off the side, the flame extinguished in a hiss of steam by the dark water. The monster shrieks, its shadowy center reforming, the embers sewing themselves back together.

All the creature’s attention is now on the goddess. It creeps forward on silent feet. Gods, it smells like death. It smells like Kalma.

“You ought to be asleep,” Loviatar calls to it. “You dare come here seeking to feed? Away with you!” She swings with her open hand as if to slap the shadow. It recoils, clearly afraid of her touch. But then it takes a step closer.

Kukka presses in at my back, her hand wrapping around my upper arm. She pulls me away, trying to keep me from danger. With her free hand, she presses something into my palm. My fingers wrap around the hilt of my little silver knife.

“Aina, go,” Loviatar calls. “Run!”

My first instinct is to obey her, but then she stumbles back, her hands seeking purchase on that which she cannot see. Loviatar is naked and unarmed... and blind. The shadow will soon have her pinned against the sauna. She needs me. She needs my eyes. I jerk away from Kukka’s grip and step forward. “Loviatar!”

The witch goes still, her face turned towards me, pale eyes catching the light of the only remaining torch.

“Use the knife!” I say a little prayer and throw it just like Siiri taught me. It spins through the air, landing with a thud in the wood of the sauna wall not two inches from the witch’s ear.

Loviatar grabs it and slices at the shadow. “You have no power here, Formless One. Go back to your grave and sleep.”

The shadow shrieks, the sound like a thousand blades dragging across stone.

“Aina, you must run! Back to the palace!” Loivatar swings again, the little knife slicing through the shadowy flesh of the creature’s arm. It lets out a furious noise and lunges for her.

“No,” I cry, watching as Loviatar is backhanded and sent flying through the air. The goddess slams into a tree and crumples to the ground in the deep snow.

The shadow rounds on me. Its hulking form moves haltingly across the clearing. Those white eyes lock onto me, and I feel frozen. I’ve been here once before. A monster in the woods that stinks of death, fear sitting like ice in my gut, no weapon in my hand, my only savior wounded. I survived this once. I will survive it again. “I am powerful,” I whisper to the dark. “I am queen.”

Kukka grabs at my arm, frantically pulling me towards the trees.

“Run, Aina!” The witch’s voice echoes across the clearing as she fights to stand. “You must run!”

No. No more running. Raising a shaking hand, I face down the shadow. “As Queen of Tuonela, I order you to stop!”

The shadow stills, its hulking form towering over me. My breath catches as it looks at me with those haunting eyes, its head tipped to the side like a bird of prey.

“Aina, no —”

I have no time to react. The shadow lunges forward, clawed hand reaching. Kukka leaps in front of me, but it takes nothing for the shadow to bat her away. Its claws grip my shoulder, talons of smoke piercing deep into my skin. I gasp, breathless, as pain lances across my chest. A scream splits the air, and I realize it’s coming from me.

“Aina!”

The shadow squeezes, and the bones in my shoulder splinter like shards of ice. The pain of it tears me apart. And then I’m flung to the side as the shadow screeches, turning to fight the goddess, who is now back on her feet.

I whimper like a wounded animal as I drop to the ground, landing on my shattered shoulder. “Tuoni,” I moan, rolling to my side. “My lord...” I tug hard on every thread of our blood bond, begging him to feel me, to know I’m in danger.

Darkness closes in at the corners of my vision. One thought fills me: I am going to die.

“Tuoni,” I whisper, eyes fluttering shut. “Help me.”