SEVENTEEN

FIVE DAYS AFTER leaving Janek’s holding, the walls of the Turholm loomed ahead of us. A sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed me. How strange, that coming home should feel like losing my freedom.

Riding in a tight cluster nearby, the Skythes clearly felt no better. With every pace their faces set into sterner masks. Not one of them complained, by look or by word, yet it was apparent they anticipated our arrival with an apprehension which echoed my own. Our common feeling raised a sense of kinship in me, the first I’d felt for these people. I dared a glance at Roshi, who was staring up at the approaching walls.

The shadow of the gate cut off the sky as I rode beneath. Inside, the sky seemed smaller and more distant, carved by the upthrust of the walls.

Most of the army of followers stopped in the lower courtyard, their horses whinnying while thralls and soldiers chattered and laughed, relieved to be home. As I moved away from the press of bodies, the noise fell away to a muted clatter. The clean scent of new mint growing in the kitchen gardens was a welcome relief from the stink of hot horseflesh. Finally only Dieter rode before me and Amalia beside me, with Gerlach for our escort. Even my Skythe guards had stayed behind.

On reaching the upper courtyard, Dieter drew his horse to a rough halt and slipped to the ground before striding away to some business he didn’t want to share with me. No doubt it would include making arrangements for keeping the Skythes beyond my reach.

Or perhaps he went in search of Renatas. The need to find him first was like a drumbeat in my blood, but before I could I had to shake off Amalia and the guards assigned me.

As soon as Amalia and I were shut in my suite she started muttering and grumbling, unable to sit still. Every other minute she’d be up again, stamping around like a hound endlessly pacing the walls of its pen. Occasionally the ale drew her back, but soon enough she’d jump from the couch and start circling again.

Meanwhile, I stared into the unlit hearth and kept my hands beneath my thighs to stop them twitching. What with Amalia’s presence, I couldn’t slip away and check on Renatas.

Anxiety threaded through me like fishing wire, drawing ever tighter until I thought it would slice open my veins from the inside out. I yearned to climb the slatted walls of the loft until I gained the steep-pitched roof and the freshening winds.

Dieter arrived after night had fallen, after we’d taken a light supper. Amalia had abandoned her muttering and pacing and had settled into a place by the window, staring morosely into the blackness outside.

Dieter dismissed his sister with a flick of his chin and she retired with ill grace to the bedroom. No doubt she’d have her ear pressed to the adjoining door.

I resisted the urge to stand.

‘Where is he?’ said Dieter.

When I didn’t answer, he added, ‘Don’t prevaricate, Matte. We both know who I’m talking about.’

‘Where you left him?’ I said, blinking up at him.

‘Coquetry isn’t one of your strong points.’

I shrugged. ‘Why do you think it’s my doing? I’ve not left this room since we returned. Ask your sister. She’ll tell you of our prison, as she’s so cheerfully taken to calling these rooms.’

‘Who said you hid him this afternoon?’ He stepped closer and tugged at my veil, as if I needed a reminder of what it hid. ‘Strangely, no one’s seen the lad since we left. Not particularly subtle, Matte. But then, you didn’t expect me to be returning home, did you?’

‘I haven’t smuggled him out of the Turholm, if that’s what you’re implying,’ I said, twisting away from his hand. ‘As for any other knowledge of the lad, you’re overestimating my abilities. Or at least my opportunities.’

‘And the pigeons?’ he demanded. ‘Will you pretend ignorance of them, too?’

This time, I did not have to feign confusion. ‘What pigeons?’

He gave me a thin-lipped look in return. ‘I grow weary of these games, Matilde.’

‘I’m not playing any games,’ I snapped, ‘and I don’t know what pigeons you’re talking about.’

‘I had no messages sent, nor did I have any messages waiting for birds before they could be sent. And yet I return home to the news that birds were released from the dovecote during our absence. Tell me, what am I to make of that?’

I was too busy chasing possibilities to answer. Had Sigi sent birds out to Houses Vestenn and Falkere, as she’d promised? Had Renatas tired of waiting, and sent word to his father?

‘Who did you contact, Matilde?’ Dieter demanded. ‘What ploy have you set in motion now?’

His grim tone woke me to the danger of my situation, remembering the blood he had taken from me. I had no idea how he might use it to punish me – and I had no desire to find out.

‘I know nothing of any pigeons,’ I insisted, summoning every ounce of sincerity I possessed. It wasn’t enough; distrust still lingered in his gaze.

Dieter crouched before me. ‘Did you think the boy struck a deal only with you?’ he said, his words sending a spear of ice down my spine. ‘I see I have your attention,’ he continued. ‘Perhaps you thought he needed protecting? Doubtless that’s what he played on. It seems I know the lad better than you after all. Come now, Matte, were you truly naïve enough to think an Ilthean would rely only on you?’

Possibilities raced through my mind like wildfire, sparking and leaping, embers alight on the wind. But one hard fact remained.

‘If you’re so confident of your own bargain with him, why can’t you find him?’

His expression darkened. ‘There’s no one you can trust, and no one you can bribe. I’ll find him, Matilde. And when I do, all bargains are off.’

Punctuating his point, he pressed his thumb to my brow, a stroke of warmth that penetrated even through the veil. The skin of my nape prickled.

In the doorway, he turned back. ‘Oh, and your little barbarian handmaid tells me you want to know of the Amaer. Shall I enlighten you? I’ll tell you this much – you’ll have a long journey before you find them, or any who know of them.’

I sat up late into the night, huddled before the fire, though its warmth couldn’t dispel the chill lodged in my core. I felt as if even the slightest movement might crack me open, like clay fired too long and made brittle. No matter what I tried, Dieter always seemed a step ahead.

Had Roshi told him of our conversation, as he implied, or was that simply one of his tricks, sowing dissension to keep me isolated and powerless? Who could I trust? And which way could I turn to break Dieter’s hex, if none knew its source?

My head ached from the constant anxiety and I buried my face in my hands, letting long minutes slip by.

Suddenly warm fingers slipped like silk across the back of my neck. I jolted upright and swivelled around in fear. Amalia stood behind me, clutching a blanket close.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

I took a deep breath to calm the racing of my heart, and sank back into the cushions.

She sat down on the other end of the couch, drawing her bare feet up and tucking them under the blanket. ‘It’s cold tonight. Are you ever coming to help warm that cavernous mattress, or must I hunt out a heated brick?’

‘I’m not tired,’ I lied, turning my eyes back to the hearth and its banked embers, though I could still feel her watching me with those foxfire eyes of hers.

‘Why do you always wear that veil, anyway?’ she said.

‘Ask your brother some time,’ I replied.

Amalia cocked her head to one side. ‘If you can’t tell me, show me.’

Before I could frame a response she’d leaned forward and drawn out one of the pins.

‘No,’ I protested, pulling back.

But she’d anticipated me, and her free hand gripped mine, the length of her pressing down on me, trapping me, as pin by pin she loosened the veil.

Tears stung my eyes as she slid a thumb under the veil’s edge at my temple, and peeled back the cloth.

‘Oh,’ she said, examining the markings. ‘I tell you what,’ she continued, sitting back on her heels, her expression gentle. ‘I know a little something of those glyphs of Diet’s.’

Hope coursed through my veins. ‘Tell me,’ I said, the demand emerging shamefully like a plea.

‘And in return?’

The familiarity of the bartering stole my fervour, and my voice was flat. ‘I have naught of value to you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. You could always tell me where the boy is.’

Stung, I sat up, straightening my veil like a shield between us. ‘So that’s what all this is about.’

‘Oh, don’t clam up again,’ said Amalia, snaking one arm forward and tugging at my sleeve. ‘You take everything so seriously.’

I stood as if to flee her, as if I had somewhere to run, but the walls caged me, and the night blocked me in.

‘It’s one extreme or the other with you, isn’t it?’ said Amalia. ‘You think I want to know where he is so I can turn him over to Diet. That wouldn’t be so dreadful, in any case. Diet doesn’t want to harm the boy, though you’ll never believe it, so I won’t waste my breath trying to convince you.’

‘Good,’ I snapped, angry at myself. Why should it surprise me that all she wanted was the boy? ‘In that case, you can tell me what you know about the Amaer.’

‘Oh no,’ she said, wagging a finger. ‘You didn’t actually give me anything in return.’

I turned back towards the window. It wasn’t as if I could trust whatever she might tell me anyway.

‘Is it entirely bad? Being married to him?’ she said softly.

The question, and her gentleness, shocked me to sudden tears, though I blinked them back before she could catch a glimpse of my face.

‘I know he likes to make mock,’ she said, stepping closer, ‘but it’s not like he’s hurt you.’

‘That doesn’t mean I like him any better,’ I replied, ignoring the blush pricking at my cheeks.

‘You must hate me for sure, then, since I’ve tried to hurt you.’ Amalia dropped her gaze and pulled at a thread on her cuff.

Though she didn’t sound insincere, I suspected this was another ploy.

‘I’m sorry,’ she continued, ‘about the killing part, at least. I’m not saying I wasn’t right to be angry. Only … maybe I shouldn’t have tried to stick a knife in you.’

I gaped at her.

‘It’s all right, you don’t have to forgive me,’ she said peering at my throat as solicitously as if she hadn’t put the wound there. ‘Does it still hurt?’

I found my voice at last. ‘You tried to slice my throat and you’re … sorry?’

‘What more can I say? I’ll not lie, not with the wound still scabbed. Do you hate me for it?’

I turned away, overwhelmed by a flood of conflicting emotions. ‘You’re crazy. You and your brother, both of you are as crazy as hens that have been drinking from a blacksmith’s barrel.’

‘Sometimes I forget how difficult this must be for you.’ Her fingertips grazed my spine, then inched up to brush my nape. ‘I know my brother’s a good man – you don’t. How could you, after all?’

I shuddered, and her hand retreated momentarily.

‘You must be so very alone,’ she whispered.

A great sob lodged in my throat. I bowed my head over it, choking it back. In the face of my loneliness, her display of affection was a heady offer, waking in me a thirst for the comfort of simple contact.

Amalia ducked around in front of me, her knees bent so she could peer up at me. Uncomfortable with the intimacy, I raised my head and drew it back. She followed me, however, pressed as close as before, her gaze drinking me in. Prickling raced the length of my spine and settled in my belly.

‘I know I’m not what you’d choose, and neither is Diet. Still, we are here.’

‘You’re here for the throne.’

‘Diet may be. I’m not.’

‘No. You’re here for Diet.’

Her hand snaked up my arm and coiled around the back of my neck. Slight as the touch was, I couldn’t pull away, though I avoided her gaze.

In the end Amalia decided to stop waiting. While I was still staring resolutely away she leaned in and, with a twist of her neck spilling her frosted hair over her arm, pressed her lips to mine.

Before I had time to so much as blink, she’d pulled back.

‘Come to bed,’ she said.

Ravens help me, I did.