Shadow Queen - By Deborah Kalin Page 0,55

the fire. ‘Thanks in some part to the Skythe alliance you brought me – not to mention you yourself, the jewel in my pocket. The skies were thick with pigeons when the drightens found out about you. All of them wanting to know whether you were a prisoner, or a willing accomplice. What did it mean for them, and the side they’d chosen?’

He paused, closed his eyes and massaged his brows from the bridge of his nose to his temples.

‘I had them, Matilde. Every single one of them.’

‘What happened?’

‘You did,’ he said, staring into my eyes.

‘I thought I was the jewel in your pocket.’

‘That was before the poison,’ he said, the intensity of his gaze silencing me.

‘That dish destroyed my chance at cementing my position,’ he said. ‘You know what the drightens thought, don’t you?’

‘They wonder if you’re strong enough to hold the throne,’ I said.

‘And if I’m not, it opens the way for them,’ he said, drawing his knees to his chest and locking his arms around them. ‘Suddenly I have a pack of drightens circling me, day and night, bickering and manipulating, coy and probing, never settling. And not a soul in the palace knows’ – he broke off, hesitating before he continued in quieter tones – ‘who did this to you.’

I kept my gaze on him, impassive, despite the leap in my pulse that was part panic, part hope. Perhaps he didn’t suspect me of Roshi’s poison after all, perhaps he wasn’t here to punish me …

‘Amusing, isn’t it? Everything I’ve won crumbling around me, and all I can think about is you,’ he said dryly.

Was it possible he truly cared for me? The dizzying idea pushed me into answering him honestly. ‘No more amusing than my being alone in the world but for my enemies.’

He rose to his knees and leant closer. ‘Matilde,’ he murmured, his breath tickling my ear. ‘I find I’m relieved not to have lost you.’

‘Small enough loss,’ I said firmly despite my fluctuating emotions. ‘You have the throne, and the Skythes to swell your army. You have your alliances.’

His hand stole down my shoulder, trailing warmth in its wake.

‘I’m sorry the drightens are wavering,’ I said. ‘But you’ve charm enough to bring them to heel. You don’t need me.’

‘I don’t have that heir you promised.’

‘You have renatas now,’ I said, anger my best weapon against the strange feelings he evoked in me. ‘If he doesn’t suit your aims, Amalia will bear children sooner or later. No doubt you can mould them exactly as you wish. Tell me, will you brand them, too?’

Gently, he turned my face to his. ‘I would bear your mark, Matilde, if you asked it of me.’

‘I don’t know the common practice in your lands,’ I said, icy with a month’s pent-up bitterness. ‘Here we only brand cattle.’

With surprising ease, Dieter unpinned my veil, shucked the cloth back, and brushed a thumb over the markings, tracing out their shape. His touch was enough to put me into a daze, though I struggled against it.

‘You haven’t thought it through.’ He was still looking at the markings. ‘It’s not all bad. Any who know the spell can erase the crucial mark, of course. But do you realise how few know it?’

‘That’s supposed to cheer me?’ I retorted.

‘Virtual immortality, Matilde,’ he said, his eyes intent on mine.

I stared at him, uncomprehending.

‘What can kill you now? Weapons that would slay mortal flesh and blood will do little to you.’

Harsh laughter erupted from me, breaking through the bewitching moment. ‘I’ve a stomach and throat nigh dissolved from poison. I’ve spent the past week comatose, and I can’t stand without panting for breath. You’re lying.’

‘Yes,’ he said with an unrepentant grin, and took my face in his hands.

Words drowned in my throat like water seeking underground caverns, as his fingers traced a line down my cheek.

‘I’m glad you didn’t die,’ he whispered.

‘I’m not,’ I countered.

He pulled away with a breath of laughter. ‘You don’t want to be dead. You just want to be a goatherd. I’m told there’s a difference, although I struggle to see it.’

I flinched, shame burning my cheeks.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Roshi told me. The shocking truth! A woman who could be Duethin, and what does she want? A hide tent and a flock of goats. Although you would look fetching with nannies scampering around your every step. Perhaps I’ll buy you some.’

‘Goatgirls aren’t poisoned. Or wed against their will.’

‘The poisoning I’ll grant you,’ he said, rising from the floor to sit beside