Shadow Queen - By Deborah Kalin Page 0,83

me?’

‘My throne, of course.’

He tilted his head in the beginnings of a refusal.

‘I’m not yet of age, you know,’ I forestalled him. ‘Not for another year.’ I swallowed hard after daring the lie. Bargain well, cousin. Iltheans didn’t come of age until twenty, and it had been Iltheans who raised him – from birth, if I was lucky. If he didn’t know the Turasi came of age at seventeen I might have a chance of emerging unscathed.

‘You’re a married woman,’ he countered. ‘By Ilthean standards, that qualifies.’

I chewed on my lower lip, reconsidering. He would not grant me the throne under the auspice of an Ilthean regent, then.

Which is no misfortune – a serpent with a toehold is a serpent embedded, Grandmother warned.

Her words were all too true, but I could see no other way out of this with my skin intact, so scraped together my courage, and spoke.

‘Very well. What must I do to earn your trust?’

He snorted. ‘The last Turasi woman I knew betrayed even her marriage vows for her country. My own brother thought nothing of sacrificing me for his gain. I don’t know what bond those marks on your brow signify, but I expect it’s not a slight one. Which you’ve broken.’

I couldn’t speak of them, not to tell him they were involuntary, nor to tell him they still bound me.

I wanted to rise, to stretch my legs and pace, hide my desperation behind movement. Or better yet, to flee. Gather Roshi and Sepp in my wake and run, fast as the swirl of snow on winter winds. But it wasn’t winter, there was no wind, and pain and exhaustion pinned me where I sat; besides, we’d be recaptured in moments.

‘General.’ I paused, swallowing my hesitation, firming my resolve and voice both. ‘If it means blood will not be spilled, I will lend my power to you. The palace shelters every person left in my world. I would keep them safe.’

‘No. It’s not enough. I need your power pledged to me, not on loan. If I thought hostages would do it, I’d have reminded you of the pair sitting outside.’

It seemed Sidonius was just as determined and headstrong as his brother. But if I didn’t rest soon, I would collapse – and there was no guarantee as to what might happen while I was unconscious.

I took a breath and closed my eyes, so as not to witness his triumph. ‘Win me back the throne, General, and I will pledge my power to Ilthea’s aid. Now, and in the future.’

I opened my eyes, seeking his reaction. He was silent, considering.

‘Perhaps,’ he said at last, noncommittal, though the cautious way he held his shoulders hinted at a decision in my favour.

‘But I want you shadow-pledged to it before you rest,’ he added.

THIRTY-THREE

I LET MY head hang while I waited. After all I’d been through I had gambled on Sidonius not having a shadow-worker with him. Gambled and lost.

Grandmother had never allowed the mara residence at her court. She had feared the discovery of my ability. With no others to take my place and carry the name once the mara inevitably claimed me, discovery would have led to the demise of House Svanaten. But Grandmother’s was not the only Turasi court with little or no access to the shadows – only Evard of House Somner had a mara in permanent residence. So it had seemed unlikely a general in the field would be travelling with one.

Except, reasonable or not, I had been wrong.

I wished I had Roshi by my side. No doubt she’d tell me the risk I was taking now was tantamount to suicide. But, trapped between Dieter’s clay hunter and the Ilthean army, what other choice did I have?

Thankfully, Sidonius’s shadow-worker arrived before the delay overwhelmed me. To my surprise, he was not an Ilthean. His whipcord thin body was swathed in what looked like a sheet, and the pits of his eyes were stained with ink dark as plum juice. Braids and tiny chips of glass threaded his hair. I could only suppose his homeland, wherever it lay, had been absorbed by the empire, for surely only a citizen could hold such a position of trust.

Two steps away from me he stopped, staring at me. I refused to make eye contact. The pain in my midsection was becoming a feverish burn now and sweat ran down my cheeks in runnels.

‘Achim,’ said Sidonius. ‘This is the Lady Matilde. She wishes to pledge her aid to Ilthea.’

‘I take