aside and slid out of bed. She was wearing a plain cotton nightdress that clung to her hips and the slope of her breasts. Frey felt a sudden urge to take her in his arms as he’d often done before, but before he could act on it she grabbed his hand and led him towards a door at the far end of the dormitory.
Outside was another corridor, as dark and spartan as the rest. She checked the coast was clear and then pulled him down it. She took him through a door which led to a narrow set of stairs. At the top was an attic room, with a large skylight looking up at the full moon. It had a small writing desk in a corner, with several books piled atop it. A private study chamber, perhaps. Frey closed the door behind them.
‘Amalicia . . .’ he began, but then she roundhouse-kicked him in the face.
Fifteen
It wasn’t so much the force of the kick but the surprise that sent Frey stumbling back. He tripped and fell to the ground, holding his face, shock in his eyes.
‘What’d you do that f—’
‘Two years!’ she hissed, and her bare foot flashed out again and cracked him around the side of the head, knocking him dizzy. ‘Two years I’ve waited for you to come!’
‘Wait, I—’ he began, but she booted him in the solar plexus and the breath was driven out of him.
‘Did you know they teach us the fighting arts in this place? It’s all about being in harmony with one’s body, you see. Only when we’re in harmony with ourselves can we find harmony with the Allsoul. Utter rubbish, of course, but it does have its benefits.’ She punctuated the last word with another vicious kick in the ribs.
Frey gaped like a fish, trying to suck air into his lungs. Amalicia squatted down in front of him, pitiless.
‘What happened to your promises, Darian? What happened to “Nothing can separate us”? What happened to “I’ll never leave you”? What happened to “You’re the only one”?’
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
