The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(4)
Elder Leevi, lanky and stooped, walks next to the Valtia’s chair. “I was simply saying another trip beyond the city walls does not seem like a good—”
“You saw that homestead, Elder,” the Valtia replies. “I cannot in good conscience sit within this temple while our farmers live in fear. The raids are worse than ever, and the people might lose confidence if I did.”
“You are wise, my Valtia, but there is danger in the outlands. We could bring . . .” His voice fades from my hearing as the Valtia and her procession disappear down her corridor toward her chambers.
“What kind of danger is there in the outlands, that it could put the Valtia at risk?” I ask Kauko as he tugs on my sleeve, leading me to my own rooms. “I know the outlands are full of thieves and bandits, but the Valtia can defend herself against any threat, can’t she?”
“Of course, my Saadella,” says Kauko, quickening his pace. He is probably eager to get back to the boy, the newest magic wielder in our temple, but once again, my questions burn inside me. I place my hand on his arm.
“Is it the Soturi? Is it so bad that they have become stronger than us?” The raiders from the north have struck hard this year—or so Mim tells me. She sneaks information to me from the city whenever she can, even though the elders have admonished her for it twice already.
“The Soturi are no threat to the Valtia,” Kauko says slowly, as if he is thinking about every word. “But the strain and stress of the travel is wearying for any queen, and especially one who is a vessel for such powerful magic. Elder Leevi’s chief concern is our Valtia’s health.” He looks back at the doorway to my room, where Mim probably waits for me, laying out a blanket for my legs near my favorite chair by the fire. “A Valtia is all at once a magnificently strong and exquisitely fragile thing. For her to do her duty, she must be careful of what she demands of her body and mind. She must save her energy for when and where it is needed most.”
And trips to the outlands must be exhausting, riding for hours over the hilly, rough terrain, having to constantly be on guard for bandits or, stars forbid, the vicious and brutal northern warriors who stab at our shores, seeking plunder.
“She wants to help the farmers, though,” I say, my brow furrowing. How terrible she must feel, having to choose between her people and her health. Then I smile as an idea hits me. “Are we compensating the farmers for their losses?” I ask. “We have plenty of copper—I’ve seen the acolytes wheel it in. Surely we have enough, and it is more valuable than the bronze coins in the town. If she is concerned about the confidence of the people, maybe we could—”
Kauko makes a quiet sound of disapproval that silences me. “My dear, when you are on the throne, we will discuss all of this, but forgive me when I say that right now you are talking of things you do not understand.”
I flush with the reprimand, and Kauko’s frown softens. “I realize that all your ideas and questions sprout from the best intentions,” he says. “And I will speak with the Valtia about ways she can reduce the raids and bolster the confidence of the people while maintaining her health. I will also tell her you are concerned for her.” He winks. “And in a few days, you can tell her yourself!”
I nearly bounce on my heels as I think of the upcoming harvest ceremony. I haven’t spoken to my Valtia in months. “I certainly will. I want her to be with us for years to come.” Everyone knows that Valtias fade young, but Kauko makes it sound like it is possible to live longer if care is taken. And I want my Valtia to take care—not just because I love her, though I do, with every shred of my soul—because I fear I will never meet the standard she has set as our queen. “I—I feel as if I won’t be ready for a very long time,” I add quietly. “If I ever disappointed our people . . .” Even the thought puts a lump in my throat.
Kauko gives me the most kindly smile. “I am going to tell you something very important,” he says. “I was going to wait, but it seems like you need to hear it now.”
I stare at him, his smooth face and silly-looking lips, his merry eyes. “What is it?”
“All Valtias are powerful, but not all equally so. Some burn bright and fade quickly, while others are more steady, strong but muted. We never know what kind of Valtia we will have until the magic enters a Saadella. Except with you.”
I have the strange urge to claw at my stockings to peek at the red flame mark that paints my left calf with its numb scarlet tendrils, the one that appeared at the moment of the last Valtia’s death—when I was only four years old. “What do you mean?”
“There is a prophecy,” he says, glancing up and down the hall. “One made hundreds of years ago.”
“Yes?” I whisper.
His bald scalp is beaded with sparkles of sweat in the light of the torches that line the walls. “When we found you in that shabby little cottage by the city wall, too skinny for your own good, we made sure to check the town register for the day and season of your birth, and the exact position of the stars in the sky on that very day. It matches what was foretold precisely.” He grasps both my arms, giving me a little shake, as if to force this knowledge into me, to make sure I believe. “When the magic leaves our current queen and enters you, Elli, you will become the most powerful Valtia who has ever existed.”