Shadow Queen - By Deborah Kalin Page 0,43

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