The Morning Flower

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  1

  The Road

  “Are we crazy?” It wasn’t the first time I had asked that, and I doubted it would be the last time before we got to where we were going.

  We still had another twelve hours on the road, if the GPS was to be believed. Over the past day, the two of us had been alternating as drivers in the Jeep so we could stop as little as possible. Going from Oregon to Louisiana left me with plenty of time to worry that we were being ridiculous and doing the wrong thing.

  Pan was driving this shift, absently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to “Radar Love,” and he glanced over at me. We’d recently switched seats at the Texas border, so he was still bright-eyed and chipper, and that helped him respond to my boomeranging anxiety with amused patience.

  “All right, Ulla, let’s go over the facts again.”

  “Okay.” I sat in the passenger seat, with my legs crossed underneath me and my Moleskine composition notebook open on my lap. All of my notes, everything I knew about my parents, the hidden First City, the cult of the Älvolk, the missing amnesiac Eliana, and the tall and handsome Jem-Kruk amounted to little more than a dozen pages.

  “Are you worried about Eliana’s safety?” Pan asked.

  “Yeah, of course I am! She’s sick, and I don’t know how well she can defend herself.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Not exactly. Jem-Kruk left a note saying to come find her, and I think he’s connected to the Älvolk, and they are believed to reside in the First City. And there was also something strange that his friend Sumi said: ‘Remember to find the woman in the long white dress.’ Whatever that means.”

  “Do you know where the First City is?” he asked.

  “Not any more than a few rumors. But if anyone knows where it would be, it’s the Omte tribe. They’ve sent missions trying to find it and the Lost Bridge of Dimma.”

  “So, if we want to find Eliana, then we’re doing the right thing. Actually, we’re doing about the only thing I can think of to help her, since we have to find her first,” Pan reasoned.

  “But we don’t know Eliana that well. Her twin sister alleged that she took her home to help her, and both you and I had to take time off from our internships,” I said, playing devil’s advocate.

  “Well, I’m not an intern,” Pan corrected me. “Working at the Inhemsk Project is my full-time job. And I also work part-time as a peurojen.”

  I groaned. “That’s even worse!”

  “I talked to Sylvi before we left, and everything’s fine,” he assured me with a laugh. “She’s letting me take a sabbatical.”

  We both worked at the Inhemsk Project, which was an effort undertaken to help trolls of mixed blood find their place in our kingdoms. Though primarily funded by the Vittra and run by the prestigious Mimirin Talo institute, it was open to all five tribes, with the objective of bolstering our dwindling populations and reconnecting trolls with their heritage and their families.

  Sylvi was the head of the Inhemsk, making her our boss. Pan worked in the office, directly under her, searching family records for trolls of mixed blood, and I spent my internship down in the archives, helping translate old documents. That didn’t give me a lot of time to spend with Sylvi, but it was more than enough for me to discern that she did not like me, and she didn’t really seem to like anyone at all.

  “Really?” I asked in surprise. “She didn’t strike me as the understanding type.”

  “She’s not, but she does care about the truth.” Pan looked over at me. He was still smiling, but his dark eyes had gone serious. “What’s going on with you? Did Elof ever let you know what is going with those weird results he got with your blood test?”

  Elof Dómari—the docent at the Mimirin who specialized in troglecology (the study of troll-specific biology, including genealogy and genetic psychokinesis)—had taken blood from both Eliana and me so he could analyze it for ancestry. It was standard practice for the Inhemsk Project, a routine test to help decipher where exactly orphans and abandoned babies fit in and where they had come from.

  Usually the test came back a few days later with a simple answer. Pan had told me he’d found out within two days that he was a KanHu half-TOMB (a troll of mixed blood with Kanin and human parentage).

  But my results had come back strangely inconclusive. Elof was certain that one of my parents was Omte, but the other one … all he could say for sure was that it didn’t match any human or troll sample recorded at the Mimirin.

  That was nothing compared to Eliana’s experience. During the draw, her blood was visibly different—dark and iridescent. The whole incident had been traumatic for her, and it ended with a terrified Eliana running off.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Whatever is going on with Eliana, that’s of interest to the Inhemsk. But my thing, it’s probably a mistake. Miscalibrated lab equipment or something. I doubt that my blood has anything that would interest Sylvi.”

  “Have you set up another test with Elof?” Pan asked. “You know, to rule out if it was a faulty reading.”

  I shook my head. “There wasn’t really time. Everything has been so chaotic and busy. And after Illaria took Eliana, I wanted to make sure she was safe before I worried about stuff that can wait.”

  “Good on you,” he said, sounding mildly impressed. “The forty-one hours I waited for my results made me absolutely stir-crazy.”

  “But didn’t you already know what the test was going to say? I mean, your mom told you all about your dad, right?” I asked.

  “Exactly. I only ‘knew’ what my mom had told me, and her claims sounded pretty far-fetched. I’m the secret love child of a human and a troll king—and he happened to fall ill and die right after I was born,” he said. “I wanted to believe her, but until Elof confirmed it, I didn’t actually know.”

  “Did it change how you feel?” I asked quietly. “About yourself, I mean. Knowing for certain who you are?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s hard to explain. It didn’t really change anything, but it changed … the color of everything. Before, I saw the world in a shade of wondering and questioning. But now it’s a bit clearer. I can see things more as they are instead of only as what they might mean.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I know exactly what you mean.”

  “I did struggle for a bit after. It was a relief, but not in the way I thought it would be. And then with the Kanin royalty too afraid or too stuck up to even acknowledge my existence…” He trailed off. “I didn’t really know how I fit into anything.”

  “I’m glad you figured it out,” I said.

  He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I wouldn’t say I’ve figured it out yet. And it took some time to work through it. Actually, the friend that we’ll be staying with—”

  “Rikky?” I supplied.

  “Yeah, Rikky helped me deal with all my stuff after I got to Mer
ellä.”

  Before we’d left Merellä, back when Pan and I were still in the planning stages for our road trip/possible rescue mission, we’d discussed affordable options. Pan and I both had savings accounts, but neither of them were exactly overflowing. Pan mentioned that his friend Rikky moved back to Fulaträsk last year. So he’d called and arranged for us to stay there for a couple weeks.

  “Did you become friends through the Inhemsk Project?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but that basically describes literally everyone I’ve hung out with over the past two years. I guess I don’t really have much of a social life outside work.”

  I scowled. “Now I feel even worse for dragging you away.”

  “No, don’t. It only goes to show that I needed the break. And I want to help you,” he said, then added, “and Eliana.”

  “Well, thank you. I’m really glad you’re here.” I reached over and put my hand on his arm, gently touching his bare skin.

  He glanced down at my hand, at the unexpected touch, and embarrassment rolled over me in a hot, sickly wave. It took all my restraint not to jerk my hand away, and instead I pulled it back in a normal, casual manner.

  “Are we close?” I asked loudly, and I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see the reddening of my cheeks.

  “Are we close to the Omte city?” Pan asked, sounding confused. “We still have over a thousand kilometers to go.”

  “Yeah.” Then I shook my head. “No. I mean, can we stop at a gas station soon?”

  “Yeah, of course,” he said, then we lapsed into an awkward silence.

  2

  Swamped

  In the dream, we were flying under an endless sky. Stars stretched on infinitely, and they were falling around us like rain. Dazzling, glittering stars, and I stared through them all, with Pan by my side. Far behind me—so far I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was there—was Hanna, and I could faintly hear her calling for me. Shouting my name, over and over.

  The stars kept falling, until they were all gone and the sky was black. I couldn’t see anything, so there was nothing but the crystal-clear sound of Eliana’s voice: “The sun sets in the green sky when the good morning becomes the violent night.”

  And then it was gone, and Pan’s hand was on my shoulder, shaking me gently awake. “Ulla. We’re here.”

  I sat up, blinking away my dream. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but it was close, bathing the car in a fiery orange light. The Jeep was parked on a gravel road at the edge of a swamp, and tall reeds and giant cypress trees surrounded us. Right in front of the car, a long, rickety dock stretched out toward a ramshackle house on stilts.

  “Are you sure this is it?” I asked.

  “According to the directions, yeah.” Pan grabbed his knapsack out of the back seat, and then he got out of the car, letting in the hot, thick air and a medley of amphibian and insect songs.

  I got out as well and stretched out the kinks in my neck and back. That’s when I noticed the leathery alligator head mounted on the post at the end of the dock, above a sign that had NO TRESPASSING written in big red letters.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.

  “This?” He tapped the top of the alligator head and smiled. “Rikky calls this an Omte welcome mat.”

  “I suppose it’s about time I learned about my heritage,” I muttered as we began the long walk down the dock.

  My skin was still cool from the car’s AC, and the humidity clung to me. All around us the swamp stirred with life. Creatures chirped and splashed beneath the warped boards, and a pair of large vultures circled overhead.

  The animal life was abundant and obvious, but this dock and dirt road were the only signs of troll (or human) life that I could see.

  “This is Fulaträsk?” I asked dubiously as I looked around.

  “Not quite. Rikky lives outside of the town, more in between the trolls and the humans. It’s more convenient that way.”

  From the outside, the “house” looked like a dilapidated, windowless shack. Most of it appeared to be constructed with unpainted gray weathered plywood, patched up with sheet metal and broken pallets, and in the center of that was a rusted front door.

  Pan raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door swung open. A woman stood before us, grinning broadly. Her dark auburn hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she wore paint-splattered overalls over a striped bralette. It was hard to tell how old she was exactly—her face was youthful, with full cheeks and dewy skin, but something about her pale brown eyes made me guess late twenties or maybe early thirties.

  “Pan!” She held her arms out wide, and he didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. “It’s sooo good to see you! How long has it been?”

  “About a year. I think.” He pulled away from her, then motioned to me. “This is my friend Ulla. Ulla, this is Rikky.”

  “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said with a smile, doing my best to hide my astonishment that Rikky was a rather beautiful woman.

  “Likewise,” she agreed with a smile, but she appraised me with a sharp eye.

  The water to the left of me suddenly erupted as a hefty beak snapped at the air, lunging toward my bare feet.

  “Oy!” Rikky shouted at it and clapped her hands together. “Drake, it’s not feeding time yet and you know it!”

  Drake was a mossy green reptile, with mud and plants clinging to his bony shell. He looked like a stubby cross between a dinosaur and a bulldog, but I guessed he was some type of snapping turtle.

  “Don’t mind him,” Rikky said, and she stepped aside, putting herself between us and the monster turtle as she held the front door open. “He’s an old grump, and I’m sure you’ve had a long trip and wanna get settled in.”

  “Thank you for letting us stay here,” I said as I slid inside her tiny home.

  While the exterior really screamed “swamp shanty,” the interior décor felt much more stylish—lots of vintage and upcycled pieces (old boat parts converted into a whitewashed flower planter, a light fixture made of fishing line with dyed feathers and glittering bits of broken bottles become a DIY chandelier.)

  From the outside, it had looked like there weren’t any windows, but that wasn’t exactly the case. There was a small octagonal porthole in the tiny bathroom—along with a rain shower that was literally outside on a deck. And the ceiling—aside from the rusty metal joints and edging—was all skylight. Really, it was multiple panes of glass—mostly clear, but some were green, and one was a tinted car windshield—stitched together like a puzzle.

  If I had to guess, I would say that Rikky had built this house with her own two hands.

  That made it even more impressive that it looked as nice as it did. It was very small—one main room with a kitchen (a counter of sheet metal with a hot plate, icebox, and a metal tub for a sink), a couch overflowing with pillows and throw blankets, a coffee table made from an old cellar door, and piles of books and plants on every available shelf.

  In one corner was a giant antique birdcage sitting on a stand, but inside, instead of feathers there was fur. A chubby gray squirrel was sleeping in a round fleece pet bed, and Rikky told me offhandedly that that was Wade, who she hoped would be well enough to be introduced back to the wild soon.

  In addition to the main room, there was the bathroom (antique porcelain sink and a composting toilet inside, the shower outside on a deck about the size of a postage stamp), a small master bedroom, and Rikky’s screened-in porch/workshop that also included a daybed, so she said it technically counted as a guest room.

  “I know it’s not as fancy as what you’re used to in Merellä,” Rikky said, once she’d finished giving us the brief tour of her home.

  “Honestly, Rikky, you know it’s better than my place,” Pan said.

  She laughed loudly, then in a flash of embarrassment covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no, Pan. You can’t possibly still live above the tannery?”

  He shrugged and stifled his own laughter. “I can’t find a place cheape
r that’s any better than what I’ve got.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “There’s plenty of things I miss about living in Merellä, but how damn expensive everything is isn’t one of them.”

  Pan sat down on the couch, and Rikky grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it on the floor near his feet. She sat on it, leaning up against the couch—and almost leaning on him. I didn’t know what to do, so I sat on an old steamer trunk across from them.

  “This place here”—Rikky paused, gesturing vaguely at our surroundings—“costs me two hundred dollars for the entire year!”

  I gasped. “That’s unbelievable!”

  “There are some major trade-offs living in Merellä,” Pan said.

  “I love it out here.” She turned her attention to me and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about the Omte. We’re not all backwater Neanderthals.”

  “No, I didn’t think that,” I said, but truthfully, I didn’t really know what to think.

  “Did you grow up around any Omte?” she asked.

  “Sorta. Iskyla is home to all sorts of trolls that don’t fit in anywhere else, so that means we had a large population of TOMBs and half-TOMBs,” I said. “But since it’s a Kanin city, I’d say that was the predominant culture around me.”

  “That’s gotta be hard,” Rikky said. “I grew up in Sintvaan, this little podunk Omte village. I knew I was Omte— my mom raised me, so I knew all about our culture. But she didn’t know anything about my dad. Which was how I got involved in the Inhemsk.”

  “Were they able to help you find your dad?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they did.” She leaned against the couch, resting her arm on the cushion so her hand rested casually on Pan’s knee. “I got to meet all my Trylle family, which has been cool, but weird. There really are so many differences, since the Trylle live much more like the humans. They use so much technology.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Ulla’s actually been with the Trylle for the past five years,” Pan said gently, and Rikky blanched.