Frey had a vague recollection of saying those things, and others like them. Women did tend to take what he said literally. They never seemed to understand that because they expected—no, demanded—romantic promises and expressions of affection, they forced a man to lie to them. The alternative was frosty silences, arguments, and, in the worst case, the woman would leave to find a man who would lie to her. So if he’d said some things he hadn’t exactly meant, it was hardly his fault. She only had herself to blame.
‘Your father . . .’ he wheezed. ‘Your father . . . would’ve had . . . me killed.’
‘Well, we’ll never know that for sure, will we? You turned tail and ran the moment you realised he’d found out about us!’
‘Tactical withdrawal,’ Frey gasped, raising himself up on one hand. ‘I told you . . . I’d be back.’
She stood up and drove her heel hard into his thigh. His leg went dead.
‘Will you stop bloody hitting me?’ he cried.
‘Two years!’ Her voice had become a strangled squeak of rage.
‘It took me two years to find you!’
‘Oh, what rot!’
‘It’s the truth! You think your father advertised your whereabouts? You think it was easy finding you? He sent me away so once you’d gone you’d be hidden from me. I’ve spent two years trying to get my hands on Awakener records, mixing with the wrong kind of people, trying to stay one step ahead of your father and the . . . the assassins he set on my trail. You know he’s hired the Shacklemores? The Shacklemores have been after me ever since the day I left, and every day I’ve been trying to make my way back to you.’
It was an outrageous lie, but Frey had a talent for lying. When he lied even he believed it. Just for that moment, just for the duration of his protest, he was convinced that he really had done right by her. The details were unimportant.
Besides, he knew for sure that Gallian Thade really did still want him dead. Thade had framed him. In such a light, it was rather heroic that he’d come back at all.
But Amalicia wasn’t so easily swayed. ‘Spit and blood, Darian, don’t give me that! I sent you a letter telling you where I was! I sat here in this horrible place waiting for—’
‘I never got any letter!’
‘Yes, you did! The letter I sent you with the co-ordinates of this place.’
‘I never got any co-ordinates! In your last letter you called me a coward and a liar, among other things. In fact, the last letter I got from you left me in very little doubt that you never wanted to see me again.’
Amalicia’s hand went to her mouth. Suddenly, all the anger had gone out of her and she looked horrified.
‘You didn’t get it? The letter I sent after that one?’
Frey looked blank.
Amalicia turned away, an anxious hand flying to her forehead, pacing around the room. ‘Oh, by the Allsoul! That silly cow of a handmaiden. She must have written the wrong address, or not paid the right postage, or—’
‘Maybe it got lost in the post?’ Frey suggested generously. ‘Or someone at one of my pick-up points mislaid it. I had to stay on the move, you know.’
‘You really didn’t receive my letter?’ Amalicia asked. Her voice had taken on a note of sympathy, and Frey knew he’d won. ‘The one where I took back all those foul things I said?’
Frey struggled to his feet with difficulty. His jaw was swelling, and he could barely stand on his dead leg. Amalicia rushed over to help him.
‘I really didn’t,’ he said.
‘And you still came? You still searched for me all these years, even when you thought I hated you?’
‘Well,’ he said, then paused for a moment to roll his jaw before he delivered his final blow. ‘I made a promise.’
Her eyes shimmered with tears in the moonlight. Wide, dark, trusting eyes. He’d always liked those eyes. They’d always seemed so innocent.
She flung herself at him, and hugged him close. He winced as his injuries twinged, then slid his arms around her slender back and buried his face in her hair. She smelled clean. Cleaner than he’d smelled for a long time, that was for certain. He found himself wondering how things might have been with her, if not for her father, if not for the unfortunate circumstances that drove them apart.
No. No regrets. If he opened that door he’d never be able to close it.
She pulled herself away a little, so she could look up at his face. She was desperately sorry now, ashamed for having tragically misjudged him. Grateful that he’d come for her in spite of everything.
‘You’re the only man I’ve ever been with, Darian,’ she breathed. ‘I haven’t seen another since my father sent me to this awful place.’
Darian leaned closer, sensing the moment was right, but she drew back with a sharp intake of breath. ‘Have you?’ she asked. ‘Have you been with anyone?’
He looked at her steadily, letting her feel how earnest he was. ‘No,’ he lied, firmly and with authority.
Amalicia sighed, and then kissed him hard, clutching at him with unpractised, youthful fury. She tore at his clothes, frantic. He struggled free of his sooty greatcoat as she fumbled at the laces of his shirt before finally tugging it off and throwing it away. He pulled her nightshirt up and over her head, and then swept her up and kissed her, gratified to realise that at least part of his fantasy about sex-starved young women in a hermitage was about to come true.
Afterwards, they lay together naked on Frey’s coat, his skin prickling deliciously in the chilly night. He ran a finger along the line of her body while she stared at him adoringly. There was a dazed look in her eye, as if she was unable to quite believe that he was here with her again.
‘I saw some Imperators on the way here,’ he said.
She gasped. ‘You didn’t!’
‘Right outside. A bunch of Sentinels carried a chest out to them, and they put it on their craft and took off. One of them looked right at me.’
‘How frightening.’
‘They were guarding that chest very closely.’
‘Are you asking me if I have any idea what might have been inside?’
‘In a roundabout way, yes.’
‘I don’t know, Darian. Some stuffy old scrolls, no doubt. Perhaps it was an original copy of the Cryptonomicon. They’re terribly careful with those things.’
‘Remind me what that is again?’
‘The book of teachings. They wrote down all the insane little mutterings of King Andreal the Demented, and put them in that book.’
‘Oh,’ said Frey, losing interest immediately.
‘We have to leave together,’ she said. ‘Tonight.’
‘We can’t.’
‘It’s the only way, Darian! The only way we can be together!’
‘I want that, more than anything in the world. But there’s something I haven’t told you. Your father . . .’
‘What did he do?’ she snapped, jumping immediately to Frey’s defence.
‘You might not want to hear this.’
‘Tell me!’
‘Your father . . . well, he’s . . . Something terrible happened. An aircraft blew up, and people died. Nobody knows who did it, but your father has pinned it on me. Me and my crew. If you were caught with me, they’d hang you. It’s too dangerous. You’re safer here.’
Amalicia looked at him suspiciously.
‘I’m a lot of things, but I’m no cold-blooded killer!’ he protested. ‘The Archduke’s son was on that craft, Amalicia. Your father arranged it, but half of Vardia is after me.’
‘Hengar is dead?’ she gaped.
‘Yes! And your father is in on it.’
Amalicia shook her head angrily, eyes narrowing. ‘That bastard. I hate that bastard!’
‘You believe me, then?’