Ugo looked her up and down. ‘I need a wife who is an aristocrat.’

Amy put a hand to her thigh. Through her dress she could feel the knife she had stolen from the hotel where it was tucked into the top of her stocking. She had been sharpening it on the stone window-ledge and she wondered if she should pull it out and try to stab the Count. He looked powerful, though, and if she got it wrong, he would surely kill her.

‘But my men tell me your still refuse to bathe,’ said Ugo, turning away. ‘That is a pity. You must keep clean. And your hair, you must wash it. They tell me that when Zoltan first captured you, you had short hair, like a boy. That is wrong. I am glad you are growing it. Long hair suits you better. Maybe you could grow it as long as Rapunzel and let it down through your window. Who knows, maybe a handsome prince will climb it and rescue you?’

So saying, Ugo laughed and left the room.

Amy sat on her bed.

There was no handsome prince. There would be nobody riding to her rescue. She was lost and alone.

She knew what she was going to do with the knife.

She had made up her mind.

She would use it on herself.

She slipped it out of her stocking top and felt the sharpness of the blade.

Then she grabbed hold of a bunch of hair and started to saw away at it, ignoring the pain as it tugged against her scalp.

13

13

Black Spines Filled with Poison

James was standing on a narrow ledge, peering down at the sea 30 feet beneath him. His toes gripped the edge of the rock, curling over it. He swallowed hard. The drop was a lot further than it had looked from below. Had he made a big mistake?

A large steamer out in the Straits of Bonifacio sounded its horn as if daring him to jump and James exhaled noisily.

The sun felt fierce on his back. Its dazzling light was reflecting off the water and the pale rocks so that he had to squint. He could see the two boys watching him expressionlessly, lounging on the sand, not wanting to give anything away, acting casual, as if what James was about to do was something they saw every day.

But was he about to do it? Was the water even deep enough? How far under would he go if he dived from up here? Whatever happened, he would have to wait for a swell of some sort; but still, if he got it wrong, he would drive himself head first into the seabed. At best he’d break his neck, at worst kill himself. Maybe he should back down and dive from the lower rock that the boys had been using.