Glittering Shadows (32 page)

F
reddy watched Thea walk away to her new job, wishing he could walk away, too. He couldn’t leave the house without risking being captured by
Otto’s spies, and while he should have been used to it, he had tasted freedom.

“Freddy?” Volland approached as Freddy backed away from the window, embarrassed at being caught staring out like a restless house cat. “We’ve received a message.”
His tone implied it was something serious, and Freddy tensed as he took the paper from Volland’s shivering hand, worried something might have happened to his parents.

The message was brief, beneath the new Chancellery seal:

“Brunner wants me to revive?” A lump settled into Freddy’s stomach.

“Clearly. I think this is worthy of discussion. I’m not sure we should just cave in to this demand.”

Marlis was furious when she saw the note. “He can’t just ask for Freddy any time because a spy poisoned herself!”

“It does say ‘requested,’” Sebastian said. “It’s not a threat.”

“But it is very firm,” she said.

“Besides, what would he think if I said no?” Freddy asked. “He’s known I’ve existed this whole time, and this is the first time he’s requested my magic, so
I’m sure he’s trying to be reasonable.”

“So you want to do it?” Marlis said.

“No,” Freddy said. “Not at all. They’re trying to question a spy who was prepared to die rather than give answers—what does that mean? Torture? And she won’t
have an out the second time. It seems such a violation.”

“You are right, though. Refusing has its own ramifications.” Sebastian had walked in carrying a deck of cards for some reason, and he shuffled them absently as he spoke.
“Besides preserving our relationship with Brunner, who
has
been very reasonable, I do wonder what information this spy has? For all we know, it’s the one pivotal piece of
information we need to win this war.”

“I am well aware,” Freddy said. But that didn’t change the deep resistance that churned inside him. “I don’t see how I can refuse. Brunner knows I’m here; I
don’t want him to get ideas about kidnapping me.”

“I’m going with you,” Marlis said. “I want to make sure they understand that they can’t use you any way they want to.”

Considering the tense nature of the mission, Freddy welcomed backup. “So only you’re allowed to use me any way you want to?” he said, unable to resist a jibe as they climbed
into the car.

She cut him a sideways look. “I owe you,” she said.

At the prison, they were met by several agents, headed by a Mr. Tiersen. All the men had several inches over Freddy, and their muscular shoulders strained their suits. Freddy supposed this group
had been hired to intimidate captured prisoners, but it was working just as well on him.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Linden. This woman was apprehended this morning by our forces in one of the border villages after she was caught searching the base and tried to flee.”

“We have no guesses as to her identity?” Marlis asked.

“Possibly Rosa Watts Lang, a known spy, but she doesn’t quite fit the descriptions we have. Of course, spies can be tricky that way. She has already proved herself willing to die
rather than talk, so I assume it will take time to break her. We’ll send a message when she can be released.”

Marlis glanced at Freddy.

Freddy already regretted agreeing. He would always regret agreeing, he suddenly realized. He would feel as if he had tortured Rosa Watts Lang with his own hands.

“Sometimes I can feel what they feel,” Freddy said. Tiersen was looking at him sharply.

“Define ‘sometimes,’” he said. “Do you feel their pain unwillingly, or when you concentrate on them?”

“When I concentrate, but—”

“Then I’d suggest you don’t concentrate.”

“But when I bring her back…things that will kill a living person won’t kill her anymore.” Freddy faltered as Tiersen’s eyes stayed focused on him like the barrel of a
gun. “This is wrong beyond what you need her for.”

“What did you think would happen when you came here?” Tiersen asked. “She isn’t going to talk unless we torture her. We obviously wouldn’t do it just for
fun
.” Tiersen’s shoulders relaxed, so he looked less a brute. “Maybe we should have a drink or two first, relax a little, and we’ll talk about what we know now and
what we need to know, so you can feel better about the purpose of this interrogation.”

But the lump remained in Freddy’s stomach. “I know the purpose. Let me just see her.” He didn’t want to spend any more time with Tiersen than he must. It was useless to
fight anymore. They had a corpse full of secrets on their hands, and they would wear him down. He had always known it was useless. He shut the door on his emotions as he followed Tiersen into the
room.

The woman’s corpse was slumped in a chair, her hands tied behind her, her feet bound as well, the pose already suggesting that she would live again, and she would
talk
. She was
small and athletically built, with dark, messy hair and a strong brow. Since her hands were bound, he touched her chin to bring her back.

Her eyes opened and rolled up to look at him groggily, and then struggled against her bonds with sudden panic. Freddy stepped back, turning his gaze to the wall.

“No!”
she screamed, as she came further out of the fog. “You
bastards
!”

“You will talk this time,” Tiersen said calmly. “You are no longer able to commit suicide.”

She shut her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was choked with hatred. “The reviver. So it’s true.”

Freddy moved to the door. Only the insatiable hunger that always followed using his magic kept his dinner in his stomach.

One of the guards quietly opened the door and let him out into the hall. If he concentrated, he could still hear Tiersen’s voice in the woman’s ears.
If you tell me what your king
has planned, this can go easily. If you do not…you may want to consider just how much your body can endure.

Freddy closed himself against her thoughts.

“You don’t have to do this,” Marlis said in a low voice.

“But I do. If they’re willing to torture a woman for information, they aren’t going to go easy on me either. It’s just that I never used to feel my magic the way I do
now. I don’t feel her pain physically, but…” Freddy lifted a hand to the door. “We could go home now, and I’d still be in that room.”

A scream ripped through him—he heard it on the other side of the door, and he felt it deep inside him. He turned his mind to steel.
She works for Otto, and Otto kills magic users. She
doesn’t deserve my mercy.
But when it came to the moment of touching her skin, giving her life, feeling the invisible bonds between himself and her…

A second scream tore out of her mouth, more pained than the last, and—

He cut it off, breaking the spell so violently that it twisted him inside, and he vomited on the cold stone floor.

The door burst open, Tiersen emerging with a brisk step and a face of stone. “We weren’t ready to let the prisoner go.”

Marlis straightened, tilting her head slightly in a way that very much made her seem like a displeased queen regarding her subject, despite Tiersen’s height. “Mr. Tiersen, this will
not work,” she said. “We can’t torture the dead. As Mr. Linden’s magic grows more powerful, he is also developing too strong of a connection with the subjects of his spells.
We’ll hurt him along with them.”

“Well—can you bring her back again and we’ll try being more…patient?”

“No,” Marlis said. “He cannot. His magic doesn’t work that way.”

“We need that information!” Tiersen said. “You should have told me up front not to hurt her.”

“I did!” Freddy cried.

“No, not explicitly. You told me not to abuse her revived state.”

“There will be other spies,” Marlis said, “and we’re lucky to have a reviver at all. We have to be careful: If we abuse him, then what did we overthrow my father
for?”

Tiersen relented with a minuscule relaxing of his eyebrows. “Well, I hope next time will prove more successful, seeing what’s at stake. You know what’s at stake, Miss
Horn,” he said, and Freddy wondered if he meant King Otto or the alliance with the UWP itself.

“I know.”

I
can’t believe I’m about to walk into Neue Adlerwald
. The motorcars of King Otto’s guard had only a short distance to go,
down a wide boulevard flanked by white statues, before passing through the royal gates. The palace reached out with two wings that curved around, embracing a formal garden. Although covered in
snow, the shapes of fountains and hedges were apparent.

Nan was piled in with Sigi and four men. She had no idea where they were headed exactly, but the line of cars pulled around to a side entrance and a few men dressed in long coats, tight white
pants, and tall boots directed them inside with white-gloved hands.

“Madam, this way, please.” Just inside the doors, someone pointed Nan, Sigi, and Ingrid one way while all the men were herded down the opposite corridor. The corridors were long,
with high ceilings, so they seemed empty even with sixty people in them.

“Where are we going?” Sigi asked.

“The king wishes to outfit you for court before you enter the palace proper,” their attendant said. He was dressed very nicely, and every look he gave them showed his awareness that
they were not dressed nicely at all.

“What does
that
mean?” Sigi asked.

“We are rather dirty, I suppose,” Ingrid said. “But we would like to keep it as simple as possible.”

The attendant said nothing, merely opened a door. At first, Nan was startled to see so many people in the room, but then she realized a row of mannequins was lined up in front of the window clad
in jewel-and-brocade costumes inspired by a prior age. If Nan ever had dressmaking nightmares, they might take place in a room like this—even the furniture and curtains had frills and smelled
like perfume. Two old ladies with makeup caked on their faces awaited them with placid smiles.

The sight actually stopped Ingrid in her tracks, even as one of the old ladies approached her, bowing slightly. “Welcome, Skuld. I am Margit. You and your ladies must be weary from your
travels. Perhaps you would like to bathe before we begin?”

Nan had never seen Ingrid look so out of her element. Then she said, with a threatening note in her voice, “Please tell the king I would prefer to present a humble appearance.”

The woman ignored her. “His Majesty is throwing a ball in your honor tonight. He has already selected your gowns. We have been asked to attend to your toilet. Please—Anna will show
you to the baths.”

“I had a bath last night in the hotel,” Sigi said, like she thought the water might poison her.

Nan played along. She didn’t want to draw attention. In the bathroom, they each had their own claw-foot tub, separated by privacy curtains. Anna and Margit offered to wash their hair for
them, in a tone that suggested they might not know how, but they all refused.

From the baths, they were shown back to the dressing room. Nan was relieved as the two old women brought out modern beaded gowns that fell to the knee; she had feared she might be expected to
wear the heavy, antiquated gowns on display with a corset, maybe a powdered wig.

Ingrid stared at the dresses as they came near, her eyes cold as if she’d been betrayed. She backed away when Margit came too close. “I don’t wear things like that. I want to
see Otto now. I didn’t come here for a ball.”

“But kings always have balls,” Sigi said. “All rich people do, whenever anything good happens.”

Ingrid looked at Nan, and Nan suddenly understood her anger.
I know this man, Nan. He is toying with me. He wants me to feel uncomfortable before I even see him.

Until this moment, Nan had suspected Ingrid might have made some deal with Otto in the past, but it was clear now that whatever their past, she didn’t trust the man at all.

Nan nodded at her, very faintly, the same way she nodded to Thea—knowing she would be understood. “I don’t mind dressing up tonight,” she told Margit. “But
Ingrid—or Skuld—is truly a creature of the forest. She wouldn’t be comfortable. You have to let her stay in the clothes she has.”