THIRTY-FIVE

DIETER REACHED THE pavilion ahead of us. He had Gerlach with him, and two of his men. Surrounded by a brace of ilthean soldiers, I nevertheless felt weak by comparison. So be it, I thought. He made me weak.

The thought birthed a spark of anger, which I visualised gathering close in cupped hands and nurturing, to steel myself against the coming confrontation. Even from this distance, unable to make out the exact nature of Dieter’s expression, I wanted to quail with shame.

After a time, the Iltheans dropped back to a walk, leaving the chariot to pull ahead in a rattle and creak of wheels. Sidonius drew in on the reins, slowing the horse to a brisk walk and finally stopping.

I’d expected something showy, a sweeping turn perhaps, or a pull sharp enough to stand the horse on its hind legs. Instead, the chariot rocked on its axis and tilted slowly forward to resting.

Silence stretched between us. Dieter and Gerlach remained on their horses – my father’s horses – and Sidonius and I stood in the chariot. We all four stared across the yards separating us, the only noise that of the pennons of the pavilion rustling and murmuring in the breeze.

Sidonius moved first, his hand on the small of my back. I clutched at my skirts as the damnable bucket tilted beneath us. Pain shot through me as I stepped down. Then the breeze brought a hint of Dieter’s scent, triggering a flash of memory from our last night together. The night I had turned to him, the night we had consummated our binding. Heat flashed across my skin.

Sidonius guided me into the shadow of the pavilion as Dieter and Gerlach dismounted and stepped inside. The four of us stood behind chairs opposite each other.

‘It’s been a long while, brother,’ said Sidonius.

‘You’ve grown since I saw you last,’ Replied Dieter, before pulling out his chair and sitting, legs outstretched and one elbow crooked onto the chair’s arm, as if completely at his ease. Gerlach remained standing, belying Dieter’s composure.

I pulled out my own chair and sat before Sidonius could hand me into it. My cheeks burned to sit before my husband dressed as an Ilthean and allied with his brother. But I had only to remember Clay, the weight of his hands pressing me into the earth and death, to firm my resolve, though it did nothing to banish the creeping sensation which stalked my nape at the thought of leading an army of serpents towards the Turholm. There’s no temporary when it comes to power, child. Give those serpents a toehold and you’ll spend buckets of blood before you dig them out again.

‘I can’t help noticing you’ve marched an army onto my lands,’ said Dieter. ‘Nigh up to my gates, in fact.’

‘You claim sovereignty over the Turasi?’ said Sidonius, taking a seat and casting an arch look my way. ‘I had heard the position belonged to another.’

‘You need more reliable sources,’ Dieter said equably, not looking my way even for a heartbeat. ‘You also need to give me reasons for marching an army onto Turasi soil. Make it a good one, won’t you?’

Sidonius responded to Dieter’s easy stare with one of hooded hatred. ‘You hold the future vassal king of the Turasi. For your sake, I hope the boy remains unharmed.’

Dieter picked at a nail. ‘The Duethin has never been, nor will ever be, a vassal to Ilthea,’ He said, then looking up, he fixed Sidonius with a glare and added, ‘No son of a snake will ever sit the throne. The boy is nothing more than the half-caste spawn of a svanaten. And who are the Svanaten?’

For the first time he shifted his gaze to me. ‘They are dead,’ he said, triumph and cruelty threaded through his voice. ‘They are ashes scattered before the wind.’

It took all my strength to hold Dieter’s gaze until he turned away, releasing me.

Sidonius leant forward a fraction, his smile crooked, his cheeks bright with colour. ‘The emperor’s reach is longer than yours, brother. The Turasi will fall under his sway as countless other peasant tribes have done before. I have the power to negotiate an agreement which will see you live.’

‘Your emperor’s promises, and therefore yours, are a false coin,’ Dieter said. ‘They will buy nothing from me.’

If the insult angered Sidonius, he didn’t show it. ‘I understand you killed Helena of house Svanaten,’ he said, with no trace now of the fury he had shown when he first learned of her death.

‘I’m afraid she did not find the homecoming she wished for.’

‘She was fleeing justice,’ Sidonius went on. ‘Jurgas Avita Angeron will look kindly on you for dealing with her in such a manner – and let me assure you, the emperor’s gratitude is no trifling matter. Yield the boy, and we can talk of your reward. Refuse’ – here a grim tone darkened Sidonius’ Voice – ‘And there will be no clemency for any of your people.’

Dieter looked up at the wind-rippled ceiling as if the conversation bored him.

My heartbeat juddered in the silence and I fought to keep my hands still, unclenched and untwitching.

‘Your threats and promises are both as empty as the winter wind,’ Said Dieter, bringing his gaze back to his brother. ‘Attack the Turholm, and the boy –’

‘Dies?’ Sidonius interrupted with a sneer. ‘If so, you lose any advantage. And any chance of surviving.’

‘Suffers,’ Dieter corrected him, then stood. ‘I will bend knee to no one. If you’ve nothing further to hint at and imply, let’s be done with this chicanery.’

‘Your creature is dead, Dieter,’ I said, my voice arresting him before he could turn away.

A dark shadow touched his eyes as he measured me. I kept my expression closed, giving him no clue that my words might be untrue. Did he grieve for the golem? Or did he merely wonder how it had died by my hand?

‘The throne is mine by right. Hand it back, and this all ends here,’ I added.

Sidonius and Dieter both looked at me with matching expressions of disdain, banishing any doubts as to their kinship.

‘A moment alone with my wife, if you please,’ Dieter said to Sidonius.

Sidonius nodded and withdrew to the ranks of his men, but not without a sharp glance my way. Gerlach retired as well.

Dieter stepped closer – enough to lower his voice, not enough to make Sidonius nervous. ‘I held your life in the palm of my hand for weeks on end. And I did nothing. Remember that.’

‘I’m quite familiar with the details of your little trick,’ I retorted, anger quickening my tongue.

He considered this, obviously wondering how his arcana had been broken.

‘I did what was necessary to keep you alive,’ he said, not pursuing the questions shadowing his gaze.

‘Ha!’ The laugh exploded from me, sharp as thorns. ‘Oh yes, I was valuable to you – I made sure of it. Don’t confuse any affection you may have felt for genuine emotion, Dieter. I did what was necessary to keep myself alive.’ The words were bitter in my mouth. ‘You simply thought me weak enough to ignore.’

‘Well,’ He said, regarding me, his gaze speculative. ‘At last you don’t need to convince or manipulate me anymore.’

‘See what progress we’ve made in our marriage.’

‘Do you know why I seized the throne?’ He said, stretching out the fingers of his right hand as if fighting the urge to make a fist. ‘Because the Turasi falling was inevitable otherwise. The Svanaten are a weak bloodline, too weak to keep the snakes from our borders. Ravens take your eyes, your aunt kited off and married one of them! If you don’t know what she planned with that boy of hers, you’re as stupid as the rest of your kin.

‘I thought it’d be her who handed us over to the empire. But you’ve outshone any of her meagre efforts, Matilde. You’d give us over on a platter, garnished with an eternity of servitude.’

I flinched, but anger kept my back straight. ‘You’ve always underestimated me, Dieter, always made the mistake of taking my intent at face value. Yet you think you’re the clever one. Why? Because you can perform tricks with clay?’ I put every ounce of disdain I had into my voice, until it pumped through my veins and oozed from every pore.

He leaned close, his pale and witching eyes pinning me. ‘Don’t underestimate me,’ he said, his voice low and thrumming with violence. ‘I’m not always nice. And don’t overestimate yourself. You don’t have what it takes, Matilde,’ he said, then turned on his heel and strode back to the horses, Gerlach falling into step behind him.

I stood watching them until their horses were small with distance, until Sidonius put chill fingertips on my forearm.

‘Lady,’ he said. ‘It’s over. Let’s go.’

I looked up, my cheeks rubbery with schooling them to blankness. ‘He won’t yield.’

‘He will,’ said Sidonius. ‘Tomorrow we ride to war. And Ilthea always wins.’