“Well, not entirely, I suppose,” Sarina corrected herself. “At first Senka came around fairly often, with Johan. But soon, it was only Johan, and I’d always assumed she’d stopped visiting after we ran off together. I must have been mistaken, if you’re her daughter.”

She considered something for a moment. “Maybe she didn’t feel safe going alone. Senka would mention wyrms, and Johan was a strong young man then. Perhaps she enlisted someone else later on.”

“Do you know why Senka visited?” I asked. “If it was dangerous and she didn’t like Indu?”

“Food, mostly,” Sarina answered. “I don’t know if it was scarce where she came from, but she referred to älgost—the cheese we made from elk milk—as an utter delicacy. She also seemed to enjoy us as a curiosity, like a tourist visiting a favorite destination.

“Not that I understood the appeal,” she said, not hiding her distaste. “I know that the young men treated her like a goddess, but Áibmoráigi is an underground prison. Plenty of other thrimavolk and a few Älvolk tried to escape. Those that failed were met with the inovotto muitit or worse.

“But Sumi made a successful break two months before I did, and I—”

“Wait, Sumi?” Hanna interrupted Sarina. “Dark coils of hair? A tattoo on her neck? Kind of intimidating even though she has a nice smile?”

“You know Sumi?” Sarina asked, sounding equally surprised.

“We’ve met briefly,” I said. “She’s friends with Eliana and Jem-Kruk.”

“Are you saying that Sumi was a thrimavolk?” Hanna pressed.

“No,” Sarina replied carefully. “Sumi had been an Älvolk. She was called Sumin Axelson at birth, and she was primed to be a chieftain, like Indu. Until she said she felt like she was truly a thrimavolk and asked to be called Sumi. Then things got very bad for her.”

Her face darkened, then she forced a thin smile. “But Sumi got away, and I studied what she’d done, and that’s how I was able to make a new life with Johan.”

All of us fell silent, trying to process all that she’d told us. Johan moved to put his arm around her, and Sarina managed another brittle smile. Behind them were shelves of the hundreds of books that filled Johan’s study. I remembered that when I had been there, it smelled exactly as it looked—earthy sandalwood and old paper.

“What was the point of all of it?” I asked.

Sarina lifted her head, her eyes wide like I’d startled her. “Pardon?”

“The Älvolk went to a lot of trouble and they’re growing their numbers,” I said. “To what end? What are they hoping to achieve?”

“Indu and his ilk were obsessed with a prophecy,” Sarina said with disdain. “It was a ridiculous poem, really.”

“Enn morgana fjeurn on ennsommora orn?” I asked.

Sarina gaped at me, then narrowed her eyes. “How did you know?”