Shadow Queen - By Deborah Kalin Page 0,57

rattled and the doors opened, admitting the tail end of her sentence. ‘… ridiculous,’ she was haranguing them. ‘I left her alone the whole night, as you insisted. It was completely unnecessary. She didn’t mean me.’

Dieter stirred and opened his eyes, a frown pleating his brow as he tried to reconcile his sister’s voice with the sight of me.

‘What is that godawful racket?’ he said, turning his head on the pillows and staring at the ceiling.

‘Your sister.’

‘Nothing for it, then. She’ll have to die,’ he said, and hung an arm over his eyes. ‘Or at least have her tongue severed. Can one still talk without a tongue?’

‘I dare say Amalia could,’ I replied, smiling even as she stomped into the bedchamber, cloth-draped tray in hand.

‘I’m sorry, Tilde. Those pig-headed guards kept me out all night. On the offchance you actually did want to be alone, I let them. Can you believe they were still trying to keep me out this morn–?’ She broke off when she saw Dieter in the bed. He was still flat on his back, the crook of his elbow sheltering his eyes.

‘I hope you at least brought breakfast, Mali,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing between you and the noose right now.’

An ugly flush was creeping up the column of her throat as she looked at him, revulsion twisting her face.

I sat up, holding the sheets close. ‘Well, it turns out you got the cosy family you wanted, after all,’ I said, though not unkindly.

Amalia switched her gaze to me, a faint clatter from the tray betraying the tremble of her hands. Then, with a hateful look for both of us, she turned and stalked from the room without a word.

‘Did she leave the food at least?’ asked Dieter.

‘No. She looked very angry,’ I murmured, conscious that Amalia was still in the adjacent room.

‘What? No,’ he said, then paused, as if considering the idea, and shrugged. ‘Well, okay, maybe. She was very quiet.’

I coughed to hide my amusement at his understatement.

Dieter gave me a look caught between wounded and indignant. ‘Don’t start,’ he said. ‘She’s been in an impossible mood since the poisoning.’

‘Before, actually,’ I said. ‘Since the morning you … barged in.’

He laughed. ‘You think she’s jealous of your attentions? Matte, you’re my wife. I like you. Truly. But –’

‘Actually,’ I interrupted, ‘I think she’s jealous of your attentions.’

His only response was a noncommittal grunt as he closed his eyes and tugged at the sheets.

‘Aren’t you going to talk to her?’ I whispered. ‘I think she’s waiting in the other room.’

He frowned, his eyes still closed. ‘Why? She didn’t pull a knife, did she? Chances are she’ll get over it. Sooner or later.’

‘Letting her stew isn’t going to mellow her mood any.’

‘I’ve no time for tantrums today. I need to get back to courting those drightens,’ he said, then sighed and swung his legs out of the bed, stood and pulled on his clothes.

‘If she draws a knife on you, scream before she gets it to your throat this time, okay?’ he said, kissing my brow, before leaving dressed but unshaven.

His swift kiss woke a tingle in my skin, and after he’d left I squirmed against the sheets, remembering the previous night – the flick of his tongue across my lips, and the feel of his hands caressing my body. Lethargy suffused my muscles, and for some moments I lay wrapped in the warmth of our bed, reliving the delicious sensations of last night.

But I could not lie abed all day, and eventually I stirred.

There had been no sound of voices as Dieter left, and I dared hope Amalia wasn’t waiting in a sulk in the other room.

I was to be disappointed. When I went to check, she was slouched on the couch, arms crossed, chin driven into her chest. She glared up at me with a heavy frown that had me stopping in the doorway.

‘Did the poison eat away some vital part of your mind?’ she exclaimed. ‘And don’t tell me he forced you. A forced woman doesn’t look like you do right now.’

I looked down, selfconscious. My hair was still unbound and wild from sleep, and I was wearing yesterday’s shift because I had no other clothes to hand. The smell of her brother was rising from me.

‘He is my husband,’ I replied. ‘Finding him in my bed shouldn’t be so alarming.’

‘Finding him in our bed is.’

I dropped my gaze, turning away. As if I could possibly hope to hide the flush on