39. Revival
Revival
Larissa
T he room was spacious and luxurious, fit for royalty.
The numerous lights hanging from the walls illuminated every inch of the wall carved into the mountain.
The stone floor was covered with rugs to battle the cold.
In the center of the room sat a vast bed, and off to the side Larissa saw a door leading to the bathroom.
Through the crack, Larissa caught sight of a large tub she was itching to step into.
Literally. Her skin itched from the dirt and blood that flaked to the floor even as she stood still in the middle of the room.
More than anything, she wanted to slide into that bath, but she would have to wait.
She could not escape Lovisa’s voice in her mind, urging her to return to her memories and unlock the block in her mind.
The discomfort in her side drew her attention. Larissa yanked the gun from her waistband, laying it on the bedside table.
Anara and Darien walked in behind her instead of retreating to their own rooms. Taking one look at the bed, Anara collapsed upon it, not minding her own filth and blood-stained clothes.
Darien slumped against the door, the deep nod of his head revealing his exhaustion as dark strands covered his eyes.
Larissa told herself it was Lovisa’s thoughts, not her own, that urged her to reach out and brush back his rumpled hair.
Forcing herself to walk away, Larissa paced the length of the room, her feet relentless as they trampled the plush carpets.
Anara’s half-closed eyes trailed Larissa. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you plan to break the block in your mind?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you have any kind of plan?”
“Not really.”
Anara rolled her eyes. “Great.”
Larissa stepped toward the bed. “What do I do, Anara? You told me I didn’t have to be her!”
“You don’t have to, but then you won’t get Halla back. Sometimes you have to make the hard decisions, Princess.”
Larissa stepped back, surprised at the bite in Anara’s words. “I told you, I’m not—”
“—that person anymore, yeah, I heard you the first hundred times.” Anara swung her legs over the bed then winced, glaring at Larissa.
“It was fine at first, fair even, but now you’re intentionally blocking your past. For what?
Because you’re scared? You want to know what you should do? Do what Halla asked you to do.”
Anara’s words fell like physical blows on Larissa’s heart. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Halla believes in you. I believe in you. Darien believes in you.” Anara threw up her arms. “Hel, even King Torsten wants to believe in you! The only one of us who doesn’t believe in you is you .”
Larissa stepped back from Anara’s accusing finger. “I—”
But Anara wasn’t done. “You can’t keep running from your past forever. This is it, Princess, you’ve hit the wall where you either decide to throw it away forever or face whatever it is that you’re hiding from.”
Darien dropped his head in his hands. “Anara, maybe just back off.”
“No, Darien. I’ve given her time, you’ve given her time. Now it’s time for tough love. Larissa, what you did at the warehouse, taking down the draugr and Aeron—”
“Calder,” Darien hissed.
Anara paused a beat. “Fine, Calder. A farmer’s daughter couldn’t do that.
Princess Lovisa couldn’t have done it either.
Not even at the peak of her power. You’ve changed, but you’re stronger than before.
So use that strength instead of hiding from it.
Don’t force yourself to be who you were; accept who you have become and use your power to rescue Halla. ”
Larissa slid down the wall, plopping beside Darien and burying her face in her hands. She didn’t bother mentioning the child-goddess who had somehow amplified her galdr . Anara was right. There was nowhere left for Larissa to run. No excuses. Still.
“I can’t lead the Vienám. I’m only seventeen.”
Darien raised his head. “Technically, if we count all the years that we were gone, you’re really like sixty-seven.”
The two girls met his words with scathing glares.
“Not that you look it,” he hurried to add, his hands in the air. “You look good, I mean you look seventeen, not that Anara doesn’t look good, and she really is sixty-sev—You know what, I’m going to stop talking now.”
Anara snorted. “Good decision. Look, Larissa, no one is asking you to lead the Vienám; they just need a figurehead, someone to inspire the people to follow King Torsten in the resistance.”
“It feels dishonest.”
“Don’t you want the Empress gone so that Halla can live a life without fear?”
“Well, yeah.”
“That’s all the Vienám want, too: a life without fear. You can relate to the people more now than you ever could before. If you just remember who you were and who you are now, you might find that you actually want to be that inspiration.”
One last fear nagged at Larissa. “I don’t know how.”
Holding her arms against her stomach, Anara joined them on the ground. She grabbed Larissa’s hand, twisting the ring on her finger. “You do what the Speaker said. Use the rune of your people to pull you back into your memories.”
Anara and Darien leaned toward her. Their two faces, so honest, so eager, so covered in dirt and blood, invited Larissa to trust them.
Weeks ago, she’d been content with her life. Her biggest complaints had been Pappa’s stories and Halla’s limitless belief in the gods. But it had all been a story of someone else’s making.
This was her chance to take authorship of her own story.
“I’ll try.” Her eyes strayed to Darien. “Will you help me?”
“Always.” He moved toward her, his eyes never leaving her own. Larissa was grateful he understood what she needed. She didn’t fight him when she felt his persuasion sink into her thoughts.
“It’s time to remember, Lara.”
Leaning into the compulsion in his voice, Larissa looked at the rune etched into the pearl. It shone brilliantly, pulsing with her own heartbeat. Larissa felt as though she were hanging from a cliff, her fingertips digging into the earth until they bled.
Remember me , Lovisa urged.
Larissa let go.
“Y ou came back,” Lovisa said.
Larissa touched a hand to her face, feeling the rough edges of her scar.
It was the most blatant difference between her and Lovisa.
The girl stood in front of her, surrounded by the ruined remains of the hallway, uneven tiles and cracked walls running infinitely in either direction.
She wore the same gown from the Jóltide Festival.
An array of simple braids pulled back her hair, and light from the unseen moon glowed on her smooth cheeks.
“Are we ready?” Lovisa asked.
Only one door remained intact within the destroyed hallway. Swallowing her fear, Larissa tested the handle, unsurprised to find it locked.
She resisted the urge to kick at the door again. “Why won’t it open?”
“Only the Perle Princess can open it.”
Larissa scoffed, standing aside. “Be my guest then.”
“I can’t do it either.”
“What? But you’re so” —s he gestured at Lovisa’s gown and general state of regality — “obviously her.”
Considering this, Lovisa nodded, then tried her luck at the door only to share in Larissa’s level of success. “Only a part of her, it would seem. We have to do it together.”
When Larissa did not move immediately, an electric energy snapped between Lovisa’s fingers. “Do you want to know or not?”
Startled by the abrupt change in Lovisa’s tone, Larissa complied, laying her fingers on top of Lovisa’s palm. While Lovisa’s hands were pale, smooth, and manicured, Larissa’s hands still bore the grime and wounds of battle.
Their differences were forgotten as the knob turned and the door inched open.
A surge of success flared through Larissa. She turned to share her triumph with Lovisa, but the girl was gone. Even the voice that had inhabited her mind had vanished. Larissa was truly alone.
Beyond the door lay only darkness. A twist in her stomach, the rapid pulsing of her veins, and something primal within her warned Larissa to not remember. Only pain waited within. She could choose to forget and remain in her blissed ignorance. All she had to do was shut the door.
But then, in her mind, she saw them. Darien’s smile when he thought Larissa wasn’t looking.
Halla’s freckled nose, wrinkling as she laughed.
Anara’s fierce eyes watching over them, protecting them.
Larissa touched the scar on her face, gathering strength from it.
She couldn’t hide anymore. For them , she would face this fear.
Her feet crossed the threshold as she plunged into the darkness of her past.