face. But Cherry was staring with the simplicity of a cat She had no feeling for looks at all. Actually, she was thinking that underneath the warm reek of grease and smoke that filled the room, the man smelt really rather good. She crossed her legs and began to purr under her breath as Siggy opened his letter and began to read.
It was the first communication between them since the massacre, and Siggy was filled with the overwhelming sensation that the letter was a fraud, written by a stranger. It was Signy all right; he knew her style as well as his own. But it was Signy as he'd never known her. And what nonsense she talked!
Revenge? Defeating Conor? Recovering the Volson lands? Restoring their father's dream? Siggy stared down at his wrecked body, and he began to laugh.
'Me, King! King Me. King of Shit!' He waved his hand around the room. 'King of Scraps! King of Pigs! King of…' He laughed weakly and stared at Melanie, inviting her to laugh with him. 'Me, King,' he snorted. 'You, Queen! Fight Conor.' But Melanie stared back at him, her face without expression. Siggy felt the laughter drained out of him.
'Cherry,' he said. 'We have to get her out of there.'
2
Signy
I'm information, I'm treachery. Here, on the inside, I belong here. I'm a spy. Conor wants me. He doesn't know what love is, but he wants me. He doesn't trust me – not yet. But he will. I'm the greatest asset we have and Siggy wants me to run away!
He doesn't want to see me humiliated anymore, he says. He has to understand; there's no such thing as humiliation. There's no shame except the shame of not destroying Conor to the last drop of his blood. If I have to sleep with him, I'll do it. I'll open my legs with a loving smile. If I have to kiss his lips and look in his eyes like a lamb and tell him I love him, and comfort him when the night demons come, I'll do it tenderly. If I have to bear his children, I'll do that too, just so that I can slit their throats before his eyes. He has to suffer like he's made me suffer. Like he made my father suffer.
I know Siggy's suffered more than me. He had to watch our brothers devoured. He had to give our father to Odin. But in the end it makes no difference. He can turn and twist all he likes but he has no choice. It's not in his hands. He'll see.
Odin gave him the knife. Odin embraced me. Our destiny is in the hands of gods.
Look at Cherry lying on the floor at my feet Why else is she here -shape-changer, part human, part animal, part god? See her! She looks up at me and smiles.
'There is a way,' she purrs. 'I can get you out if you want.'
'Did you tell him that?'
'No.'
'Good! Never tell him. He must think I'm trapped.' I chew at the flesh around my fingertips. 'Everything must be put right' Then I smile at her and say the terrible word 'Conor…' just to hear her growl deep in her throat.
'He wants to have you in the same way a dog pisses on its victim,' says Cherry. Yes! She knows. 'He wants you to love him because he can't love himself. He wants you to want him because then his victory would be complete. He wants you to forgive him.' She meows and creeps low on her stomach onto my lap. Poor Cherry! I stroke her between the ears as she turns back into cat.
'I'll let him do whatever he wants with me,' I say. 'And when the time comes, I'll kill him. I'll wipe out his armies, and I'll put my own family back in the place he's stolen. There will be no forgetting. Never.'
'… always hate him,' murmurs the little tortoiseshell cat on my lap. Her eyes are as hard as stones. She always feels exactly the same as I do.
I will have power. Already I've had some of the guards killed. I pointed them out to Conor from the tower while they were on parade. I told him they raped me. They died. Conor was furious to think that his property had been used by common soldiers. They were hung by their heels from the trees and beaten until they could scream no more. The guards know I hold the power of life and death. One day, everyone will know.
Conor wants everything to be just as it was. Sometimes I go along with it He fills my prison with toys and we pretend it's not a prison. He fills my ears up with promises, and we pretend I believe them. He fills my life up with his emptiness and I pretend I'm full. He doesn't trust me yet, but he will. He wants to, you see, and poor Conor lies so easily to himself. And poor man – do you know what? He has no idea what the difference is between hate and love. I can fool him into thinking anything. I can even fool him into thinking that I love him.
Each time he comes I think my heart will break all over again. I loved him so much – so much! You'd think he'd see the look behind my eyes and shudder, but instead he weeps, and kneels by my chair and begs me to forgive him.
'I love you,' he says, over and over. And then he looks at me with an expression like an animal. He raises his eyebrows slightly. He's waiting. I realise with surprise that he expects me to tell him that I love him, too.
I only know this; if I have to fall in love with him all over again to get him to trust me, I'll do it just so I can hurt him.
I say, 'I'm your prisoner. How can you expect me to love you?'
'You did love me.'
I look away. This is unbearable!
He inspects his clean hands and he asks, 'Do you think you could love me again?'
It astonishes me beyond words that he asks me this. I say, 'I am yours, the spoils of victory.'
When I say that, he blushes like a boy. 'It was out of my hands,' he growls. Oh yes, my darling, nothing to do with you. Poor, innocent one. See how I've hurt his feelings! But I lie so well that I could almost feel sorry for him.
I say, 'Then who did this to me?' I fling the blanket off my legs so he can see my pretty legs. He hates to see my legs these days. They offend him.
'It was an accident,' he growls. 'You know that.' He shakes his head, dismissing my legs. 'This had to happen, don't you see, Signy? It couldn't be stopped, it was all underway from a long, long time ago. The treaty was impossible. There were too many people in both camps who wanted it destroyed. It was Val or me. The gods wanted it!'
'That's why they gave you the knife,' I say. I nod at it hanging from his belt.
'Yes, yes.' Conor nods in agreement He is surprised that I see this, but not as surprised as I am that he believes what I say. Sarcasm means nothing to him.
'It was given for me to take,' he agrees.
I shake my head, which feels like it's about to explode. But nothing of this shows on my face. I never let anything show on my face. It would turn me to stone if anything showed on my face in front of him.
I say, 'If you want to love me, Conor, you have to win me. Nothing for free ever again. You must show me how much you love me.'
'How? Tell me how…? Anything.'
'Let me out of here,' I say. And I watch his eyes widen. What did he expect me to ask for? Chocolates?
'Not possible…'
'Because you don't love me.'
'No! But there are powerful people. Enemies – the same ones who forced my hand to kill your father.' He's lying, of course. But he already thinks I'll believe him because he's half convinced himself. He thinks so much of himself he even believes his own lies.
'I won't have you put at risk, you're too important to me,' he says.
'Then kill your enemies.'
'No, I need them! Not yet, not yet, Signy. Give me time!'
I don't understand. Why does he keep me here? Is he scared of me? Or does he realise in his heart that I am his destruction?
I nod at the door. 'Let me know when before you come back.'
'You don't understand.' Conor's voice drops. And now, already, he begins to talk politics. He paints a picture of powerful associations, groups of men and women working against him – against us – people too strong to be
