Thief With No Shadow by Emily Gee Page B

A thousand endless steps. She walked backwards, facing the darkness. Her fingers groped for the door. She pulled it shut behind her and bolted it, but the kitchen was dark, black. It had walls of stone and there was no light—
    There was light in the sickroom, though, shining through the doorway. The terror that clutched in Melke’s chest eased fractionally. She could breathe, could see.
    Liana looked up, her hair shining as brightly as snow in sunlight. Her expression altered, became sharper. “Are you all right? You look—”
    “I’m fine,” Melke said, standing in the doorway, panting, the darkness pressing at her back. Stand tall , Mam had said. Hold your head high. Never let them see your fear. Her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m sorry. I needed to...to get some fresh air.”
    Liana’s gaze was searching, her brow faintly furrowed.
    Melke walked slowly across the room. With the candlelight and the relief came awareness of her feet again. She managed not to lurch or wince. The pain was huge, a raw and swollen burning.
    She clutched at the back of her chair and sat. The sharpness of pain faded. Breathing became easier. There was light, and another person. Her heart began to beat more slowly.
    Endal lay down on the floor. His flank touched her ankle, warm and strangely comforting.
    Liana still watched her.
    Perspiration slicked Melke’s skin. She felt it beneath her eyes, under her lower lip. She wiped it with a hand that trembled.
    “What is it?” Liana asked quietly.
    “My feet.” She tried to smile. “It’s nothing.”
    “No. That’s not what I meant.”
    “Oh.” Shamed heat rose in her cheeks. “I don’t like the dark, is all.”
    Liana looked at her for a long moment, then glanced at Hantje. “You said he doesn’t either.”
    “Yes. It’s nothing.” She pushed the memories back: the terror, the panic, the aloneness. “I’m sorry. You were telling me about—”
    “My parents.” Liana’s scrutiny was an adult’s assessment, not a child’s. “It upset you.”
    “How could it not?”
    Liana sighed, a soft sound. “I’m glad it upsets you.” There was no malice in her voice, no malice in her face. All Melke saw was sadness. “You’ll get the necklace back, won’t you?”
    Melke nodded.
    The girl reached out and touched Hantje’s cheek lightly.
    “How long until it comes?”
    Liana glanced up. “The psaaron?”
    Melke nodded.
    “Spring equinox.” The girl’s lips twisted into something that couldn’t be called a smile. “We’ve been waiting for twelve years. Bastian says it’ll be this year. The well is almost dry. The farm can’t last much longer.”
    “Spring equinox?” Melke’s heart was thudding again. “Are you certain?”
    “It’s always spring equinox.”
    “But that’s...”
    “Next full moon.” The girl’s gaze was clear and steady.
    Next full moon. So soon. Too soon. Hantje would be unable to help her. How could she hope to succeed alone?
    Liana watched her.
    She had to succeed, because if she didn’t, then either Liana or Bastian must—
    Horror shuddered inside her. It roughened her voice and made her hoarse: “I’ll need to talk to my brother. I don’t know how they caught him.”
    “He was stealing?” Liana’s face creased, at brow and eyes and mouth. “Bastian said he was, but he doesn’t feel as if—”
    “I can only guess. He was gone in the morning when I woke.” Melke’s throat tightened in memory. The disbelief, the sick realisation. “Why else would he be in the salamanders’ den?”
    Liana shook her head. “He doesn’tfeel...”
    I thought I could never steal, either. And look what I have done . “He did,” Melke said flatly. “He did.”
    For a long time there was silence. Endal was a warm weight against her ankle. How strange that she wasn’t afraid. The ferocious wolf-beast lay touching her, and she was unafraid.
    In the silence she was aware of Hantje’s breathing, shallow and rapid, and the hectic flush of his