47

Aina

I stand under the snowy branches of the willow tree, heart racing. Tuoni is prepared to cast me out, which means I got my wish. I can return to the land of the living. I can see the sun rise again. I can see Siiri again.

But at what cost? What mother could accept her own freedom at the expense of her child’s? How could I ever agree to wait here, nurturing Tuoni’s son, growing him in my belly, only to give birth and place him in the tender arms of Kalma?

“I will die first,” I say to the willow’s barren branches.

I have his oath, at least. Tuoni will return me to the land of the living. That gives me nine months to stay alive, seek alliances, grow my power, and convince Tuoni to let me leave with our son. I’ve already survived almost two. With Tuoni’s son inside me, he and his allies will be overprotective. Nothing can reach me inside these walls. He has assured me of it. He goes now to review all his fortifications. I’m safe—

I frown at the hollowness of the words in my own mind. The chill that overtook me out in the field rushes over me again. I can’t pass through those woods without thinking of the first night... the night Inari died.

The night you killed her.

No, I can never be safe here, not even from my own memories. It happened again just now, standing out there in the snow. I looked to the trees, and I saw her standing there. The birch trees always watch me with those unblinking eyes, but this time a woman stood in their shadow. I know it was Inari, forever lurking in the hunting wood. Dreaming or waking, I can never be rid of her ghost.

A sharp rustling makes me turn. “Gods—Kukka, you scared me,” I say with a little laugh.

The dead maid holds a foraging basket out to me.

I search her face, noting her hollow expression. “How strange is life that a dead maid is now my one true and loyal companion?”

She makes no response.

I take the basket from her hand, and we both walk towards the herb garden. “My mother always says that in troubling times, there’s only one thing to do,” I say. “Make a good cup of tea. Would you like to help me?”

Kukka sways slightly, which I’ve come to interpret as her sign for “yes.”

I drop to my knees at the edge of the first flowering bed and begin to collect herbs. Lowering my face, I breathe in the comforting smell of marjoram. It reminds me of my mother’s kitchen. That little memory has a soothing effect on my soul—

Twang.

I go still, all my senses suddenly tingling. I know that sound.

Beside me, Kukka drops to her knees. An arrow is buried in the back of her head, the sharp tip protruding from her eye. A look of surprise is frozen on her face as she falls forward into the snow.

“Kukka!” She’s heavier than she looks as I fight to turn her over. I already know what I’ll see if I look in her face. She’s gone. Deadagain. I’m alone and exposed in this courtyard. It would only take one arrow to finish me too.

A firm hand clasps over my mouth, and I squeal, my whole body going rigid. “Tuo—”

The hand stifles my scream as a strong arm encircles my waist. My assailant hauls me up out of the snow, dragging me away from Kukka’s body. I fight, jabbing with my elbows and kicking with my feet as I’m dragged back under the dark curtain of the willow tree.

“Shut— up —Aina.”

That voice. My heart stops as my body goes limp.

“It’s me. It’s Siiri.”

No. This isn’t happening. This is some trick.

“I’m going to take my hand away now, but you can’t scream,” says the voice. “You’ll call the whole castle down on our heads. No more screaming. Do you understand?”

Oh gods, I’ve dreamed of Siiri’s voice so often. Now, the soothing music of it washes over me. I give a curt nod. Strong hands let me go, and I scramble to my feet, turning around. I stifle a cry of relief, my own hand covering my mouth. Even in the shade of this willow, I’d know that silhouette anywhere—the strong shoulders, the curve of her ears that point slightly out. The shadow steps forward into the narrow strips of light filtering in through the snowy boughs of the willow.

Siiri.

She’s somehow older than I remembered, even though it’s only been a couple months. She looks harder too. She wears a man’s hunting outfit—a bow across her chest, axe and quiver at her hip. Her hair is odd. Where is her braid? There’s something about her that feels strange. She’s like something out of a dream.

“You’re alive. Oh, thank the gods.” Tears choke Siiri’s voice. “You have no idea what this means. To see you... I feel you, Aina. Even standing apart like this, I...” She’s clearly struggling to find the right words. My Siiri never had a problem expressing herself before. “I couldn’t breathe,” she manages to get out. “With you gone, I couldn’t breathe.”

This can’t really be happening. In the depths of my loneliness, when I feel wholly lost and trapped, Siiri comes? It’s too convenient. Too cruel. It reeks of magic. I don’t trust it. Siiri watches me, waiting for me to give some response. “I couldn’t breathe, either,” I reply, watching her shoulders relax.

She reaches for me. “Come. I’m taking you home.”

I go utterly still, my gaze locked on Siiri’s hands. They’re marked with runes. I can think of only one witch who would dare use this kind of magic on me. She’s done it to me once before. But this time, the impersonation is too good. She has Siiri down to the last detail—her spray of freckles, the slant of her cheekbones, the music in her voice.

But those hands. The witch slipped up. This is not my Siiri. The only way Vammatar would be able to impersonate her so well is if she found her. Vammatar has captured my Siiri. I can only imagine what she did to her.

Rage boils inside me. “What have you done?”

Siiri’s face falls. “What?”

“Where is she, you heartless witch? What have you done with her?” I peer through the tree’s boughs. “Is she here? Did you take her?”

“Who?” Siiri steps forward. “Aina, tell me what’s wrong. Who are you looking for?”

I lunge, throwing myself at the witch. I scratch and slap, ready to tear her throat out.

“Aina— ouch —”

“What did you do to her?” I cry. “Where is Siiri?”

We fall to the ground in a ball of thrown elbows and scratching fingernails. I wrestle myself atop her, letting my rage burn within me like a holy fire.

“Aina— stop —”

“Where’s my Siiri? I’ll kill you for this, Vammatar. Tell me!”

With a grunt, the witch rolls us over, pressing me into the snow. She gets her hips around mine, locking me in place. In moments, she has me pinned, her strength utterly overpowering me. “Just stop .”

My rage burns out, and all I’m left with is the taste of ash in my mouth. I sag with defeat, stifling a broken sob. “Please, don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt Siiri. I’ll do anything. Kill me, feed me to your mother, cast me into the bog. Just don’t hurt my Siiri.”

The witch loosens her grip on me. My eyes dart to her tattoos again. She follows my gaze, and her force on me relaxes. “Oh, Aina.” She releases one of my wrists to cup my cheek. “I am Siiri. Don’t look at my hands. Look in my eyes.”

I shake my head, eyes shutting tight. I can’t let her in. She’ll break me, body and soul. Such a perfectly cruel torture. I could withstand anything but to have Siiri used against me in this way.

“These are not Vammatar’s runes,” she says, gently. “I thought the same thing at first, but no death goddess gave them to me, I swear it. Aina, please .” Her warm hand is still on my cheek. “You know it’s me. You know me. You know what you felt when you saw me at the edge of the woods just now.”

I gasp, peering up at her freckled cheeks. “That was you?”

She lets go of my other wrist and climbs off me. “I thought you knew. I felt it too. I was so sure. Aina, I felt you seeing me.” Her voice trembles. “Am I really so changed? Aina, you are the only one who would always know me... please say you can still see me.”

I take a hesitant step forward. “I knew it was you,” I whisper. “In the woods... I knew. But I couldn’t dare hope—” My words catch in my throat, and I close the space between us, burying my face in her shoulder.

“Oh, thank the gods,” she says on a breath, her arms wrapping around me. “Thank you, All-Mother.”

I let go of all grief and fear and cling to her. I breathe her in. She smells strange, like cardamom and wood smoke, nothing like my Siiri. And yet I feel her beneath my hands and know who she is. I don’t know how she did it, but she’s here.

Siiri pulls away first, her lips brushing over my brow. “Come, we have to go. They’ll soon have this entire realm out looking for me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve felled five dead and counting. And the death gods don’t take kindly to intruders. They really don’t take kindly to thieves.”

“You’re here to steal something?”

“Yes,” she replies with a soft laugh. “ You . Now, come on.”

Siiri is here, and she’s come to steal me away back to the land of the living. Fresh tears fill my eyes as I look down at her outstretched hand. Things are so complicated now. How will I ever explain what happened? Would Siiri still extend that hand to me if she knew the truth? If she knew the risk she was taking?

“Aina, come,” she says again. “We haven’t time to delay.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“You can tell me later.” Dropping her hand, she unslings her bow from her shoulder. “Come on. This way. Quietly now.”

“Siiri,” I hiss at her retreating form.

She turns.

“I’m married,” I whisper, letting my truth free.

“What?”

“The death god... I married him. I married Tuoni. There were reasons for it, I swear it. And I’d do it again,” I admit, raising my chin. “But things are complicated now.”

“So, we uncomplicate them,” she says, crossing back over to my side. “He doesn’t get to keep you like some prize. Return home with me now, and all can be as it was—”

“Nothing can ever be as it was.”

She steps back, eyes narrowing as she searches my face. A tense moment stretches between us. “There’s more. Say it all.”

“I’m pregnant.”

My words pierce through her thick armor. Siiri is always so easy to read—her grief, her frustration. “Are you telling me you mean to stay here?”

“I’m telling you that he will not let me go easily.” I reach for her. “I can explain—”

“Don’t touch me.” She swats my hand away. “You have no idea what I’ve done. What I’m still doing—the sacrifices I’ve made, the scars I’ve earned, the people I’ve killed —all to find my way to you. To rescue you—”

“And what do you think I’ve suffered?” I say, my own resentment rising. “I killed someone too, Siiri. I have scars now too. I outfoxed the Witch Queen of Tuonela. I stole her crown. I fought a kalman v?ki with my bare hands. I’ve done everything I can to survive. I married Tuoni to protect you , to protect our families, to protect countless other women from falling prey to the death gods’ schemes. And he’s not all bad,” I admit. “He’s nothing like the stories, Siiri. He’s kind and good, and he loves me.”

“And you mean to stay,” she whispers, her heart breaking in the tone of her voice. “You mean to stay here and be Queen of the Dead. No more sunrises for Aina Taavintytt?r. You mean to stay and raise a death god’s babe in a cradle of bones?”

“I mean to protect you from me ,” I press. “Siiri, you must go. Now. If you are caught trying to help me escape, I doubt I’ll be able to save you. And I will not watch you die. I will suffer any other pain or torture they can devise, but not that. Never that—”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“I’ll find my own way,” I assure her. Reaching out, I take her hand. “Tuoni has already promised to release me after the child is born. I just need time to help him see reason. I need him to see that our son must come with me when I go.”

Her eyes go wide. “Your son? How can you already know what the child will be?”

“A prophecy foretold his coming. And Tuoni saw us in a vision. It was gifted to him by Loviatar’s daughter.”

“The hope goddess? She saw you with Tuoni? She saw you bear his child?”

Her words sink deep in my heart. “Oh gods... Yes, she is hope, isn’t she?” I smile, relief flooding my heart. “Her daughter is hope.” I drop Siiri’s hand and turn away, puzzling it out in my mind. “Tuoni’s most prized possession, taken from him too soon. He had to set her free so she could find me and set me on my path.” I close my eyes, My hand rises to brush over my abdomen. “You’re not a bad omen, my little love. You are the embodiment of hope.”

Siiri steps closer behind me, her hand on my shoulder. “Aina, as much as you may love the death god now, you know you cannot trust him—and he can’t keep you safe here.”

I turn around. “Whether I love him or not doesn’t matter anymore. This is the only thing that matters now,” I say, gesturing to my abdomen. “The prophecy must hold. This child must live. The other death gods don’t understand him. They want us both dead. I have to get us out.”

“Then let me help you. Aina, put your trust in me again. I know I let you down before. In the woods with Kalma, I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t protect you—”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I couldn’t protect you,” she says over me. “But I can now. Aina, I swear it. Come with me, and I’ll bring you under the protection of V?in?moinen himself.”

“You know V?in?moinen?”

She smirks. “Who do you think taught me how to sneak in here? He’s been teaching me the ways of the shaman. He gave me these,” she adds, gesturing to her tattoos.

I smile, my heart lightening. “I met Mielikki. And Kuutarand I danced with Nyyrikki.”

Siiri gasps. “You did not.”

“I did... at my coronation feast.”

“Well, naturally,” she teases. “You’re a queen now. Pardon me for not bowing.”

I roll my eyes.

“I met Nyyrikki’s sister in the woods, and a nasty forest witch named Lumi. What was Nyyrikki like?”

“He’s an absolute cad,” I reply with another smile.

She grins. “The most interesting men always are.”

I laugh. “If ever you were to marry a god, I think it would be him. Either marriage or mortal enemies, I see no other alternative.”

We’re both silent for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes.

I give her hand a squeeze, whispering the words that sit heaviest in my heart. “Do you hate me, Siiri?”

“No.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. Don’t give me hope where there is none.”

Siiri slips her bow onto her shoulder and takes both my hands. “I don’t know how to explain myself here...” She takes a deep breath, her blue eyes softening. “All souls exist in three pieces, Aina. Only three. Always three. You have them too. I’m here now in a piece of my soul. It’s the piece that loves you so fiercely, it will do anything to be by your side again.” She steps closer, dropping my hand to cup my cheek. “Being with you now, I finally understand the truth of my life. I don’t know what magic it is, but I know without doubt that my soul exists in four pieces.”

Her face softens as she smiles, her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You’re the fourth piece, Aina. You exist outside of me. You are your own person, and you will go your own way, but I can’t be without you. So, I beg it of you now... let me follow.”

“Siiri...”

“I’ll ask for nothing else,” she says quickly. “Never, Aina. I wouldn’t do that. Just let me follow youeven into death.”

My Siiri is here. My dearest friend, my truest north. She followed me to the very depths of death. Of course she did. How could I have ever doubted she would? If there was one person sure to find a way to get to me, even in this dark place, it would be my Siiri. Now she’s holding out her hand, asking me trust her, asking me to follow her back to life. She wants to take me home. She wants to be my home.

Heart in my throat, I grab the front of her coat and pull her to me. She sucks in a surprised breath as I press my lips to hers in a soft kiss of thankfulness. I hold her there, breathing her in. Her lips have always been the only softness in her. Otherwise, she’s all sharp elbows and harsh opinions. But her lips...

I’ve noticed them before—the way they frame her mouth when she laughs, the way she purses them when she’s frustrated. I kiss them now, tasting them. She tastes like salt and honey and, yes...

Juniper .

Wisewomen call juniper berries the “shaman’s fruit.” Different parts of the tree foster connection, healing, and purification. Siiri, my fearless shaman, come to rescue her lost queen from the endless night. I smile against her lips, kissing her again.

Her hesitation only lasts a second before she cups the back of my head and finally kisses me in return, her lips parting against mine. It’s soft and sweet... and over too quickly.

I break away first, my hands stiff on her shoulders. We stare at each other, lips parted, chests heaving. “Get us out of here,” I say. “Siiri, take me home.”

She nods, and I drop my hands from her shoulders. Taking her bow in hand, she turns. “Follow me. Quick and quiet as you can.”

Before I can reply, a familiar sound has both our heads turning. It’s the softest of sounds: gentle footfalls crunching the snow.

“Aina,” a low voice calls. “Who are you talking to?”