Read Online As Black as Ebony by Salla Simukka - Free Book Online Page B

manor house. Lumikki hadn’t remembered that this morning was the beginning of the St. Lucia procession. Lately, the tradition had begun spreading from Swedish-speaking circles to Finnish ones as well.
    Lumikki always felt conflicted about St. Lucia’s Day. There was something warm and safe about it that felt good deep down inside, but there were also unpleasant memories. One year just before she started school, Lumikki had wanted to play Lucia at home. Her daycare in Riihimäki hadn’t adopted the Lucia tradition yet. Her mother had been delighted at the idea and promised to bake Lucia buns and make a white robe and crown of candles for Lumikki to wear. But her father just looked at Lumikki long and hard, his face overshadowed by a grayness that drained all expression away.
    “This family is not going to celebrate a woman who tore her own eyes out to stop a man from molesting her because of her beauty. Who was killed by a dagger stuck in her throat after burning her to death didn’t work.”
    Lumikki still remembered her father’s words. She remembered how her excitement had died. It was like being forced to swallow icicles whole. Her mother had been furious at her father for saying anything so gruesome to a child. But for Lumikki, it wasn’t her father’s words that had hurt. The worst thing had been the way he looked right through her as if she and her eagerness and her joy didn’t even exist in his eyes.
    Lumikki had never suggested celebrating St. Lucia’s Day again.
    Now she watched as a group of high school girls descended the stairs in long, white dresses, green paper garlands on their heads, tea lights in their hands. Tinka walked at their head. Her long, red hair was an angelic cloud of curls. As she passed Lumikki, she smiled sweetly and squinted a bit in greeting.
    When the procession moved on into the mirrored lobby, and their singing began to fade, Lumikki found the words repeating in her mind in Swedish.
    Stjärnor som leda oss, vägen att finna,
    bli dina klara bloss, fagra prästinna.
    Drömmar med vingesus, under oss sia,
    tänd dina vita ljus, Sankta Lucia.
    Finnish had always been Lumikki’s stronger language. She used her Swedish much less frequently. Mostly just with her dad and his relatives. Nevertheless, for her, Swedish was the language of poetry, a language of song that strummed nameless chords of emotion within her.
    Drömmar med vingesus.
    Vingesus. How could so much beauty fit in one single word? Wings. The rustling of wings. Or soughing, like the song of the wind. Roaring like rapids or the raging of fire. Lumikki heard the word in her ears in melodic tones, sung by the clear voice of a child. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t her own.
    Suddenly before her, she saw the steps of an old wooden house with a little girl descending them singing “Sankta Lucia” in Swedish. Rosa. This had to be her lost sister Rosa. She remembered how beautiful Rosa had looked to her, somehow heavenly, and how she had thought that the next year she wanted to be with Rosa singing. Why didn’t she have any memory of the following year? Hadn’t the next year come?
    In her memory, Rosa tenderly smiled at Lumikki. As only an older sister could smile.
    The prince laced Lumikki’s corset ever tighter.
    Just a little more and you will be an obedient wife.
    Just a little more and you will learn to behave with more virtue and restraint. You aren’t living in the woods anymore. You are a queen. You must walk slowly and with grace. You must hold your tongue when I speak. You may not shout or laugh—that is not appropriate behavior. You have beautiful dresses and precious jewels and gilded chambers. I do not understand why you are not happy. Why can you not be satisfied?
    The prince’s words echoed in Lumikki’s ears. She felt it become harder to breathe. The corset squeezed her lungs shut. The edges of her vision began to quiver and darken.
    “Just a little tighter and maybe you’ll fall back into your