Page 1 of Wings of Ice and Steel

Part One

One

Ariadnne

Ariadnne’s blue cloak fluttered over the silver scale of her finest ceremonial plate, which chafed something dreadful, rivulets of sweat trickling down her neck as she navigated the capital’s largest market under the watchful eye of her handler.

The throng ebbed and heaved with its own rhythm, people skittering out of the way as her company passed. Curious, she watched as high fae with pierced, pointed ears meandered alongside nymph-like faeries while Flames danced for the crowds, sending sparks flying and children shrieking. Everything was beautiful. A sharp reminder of how much of the world Ariadnne hadn’t seen.

A cart careered past, almost knocking her over. The wire-haired priskan driving cursed as his longhorn scented Ariadnne and bolted—prey recognising predator. Ariadnne’s skin prickled and, before she could stop it, the bronze of her arms rippled with dusty, pale scales. She shot Melixanthe, her handler, a swift glance, relieved to see she hadn’t noticed.

A year of isolation had been her punishment the last time she truly lost control. Forbidden to speak to anyone outside of her company, she’d never realised how long a year could feel until she’d spent most of it within the same walls. She was almost happy that the High Lord of Eradiata had requested she fight his war for him.

If only she enjoyed killing.

The Council was testing her, seeing if Ariadnne could perform without another royal fuck-up—not that she accepted responsibility for last year’s ‘debacle’. If that minor lord hadn’t groped her at her coming-of-age celebration, she wouldn’t have shifted in a fit of rage and flattened the ballroom’s frail walls.

The look of terror in the lecherous lord’s eyes had almost been worth the month she spent wearing an iron collar.

Ariadnne glanced sideways. Melixanthe’s stony face was unlined, but the Guild General’s short, midnight hair had recently sprouted a few greys as it curled round her pointed ears. Her black armoured plate was pristine, and jaw was set in its usual grim line, softening as she caught Ariadnne’s look.

‘Breathe, for Dianea’s sake. You’re fine.’

Ariadnne exhaled, determined to be the perfect little soldier, even if the effort made her teeth ache. She set her eyes forward.

Silhouetted against the skyline, the High Lord of Eradiata’s castle was a cluster of peaked roofs and jagged towers that cut an imposing shadow against the clouds. Ariadnne bit back a groan as she mounted the first of the many steps leading to the castle’s gates. The stairway was part of the heart of the city, lined at every point by more stalls and merchants. Her limbs already ached from transporting everyone, and the climb was an added insult.

‘You understand your role?’ Melixanthe said, snapping her fingers. Ariadnne fought the urge to roll her eyes.

‘Be quiet. Deferential. Stroke the pompous prick’s ego,’ she recited.

‘And let me do the talking.’

‘Of course.’

At the top of the steps, shadowed by the imposing arched gateway, waited a liveried butler. He surveyed them both, sweating in their armour after the climb.

‘You must be the varanya.’

His accent was pronounced, drawing out the vowels in the female term for varanyen almost comically.

‘I suppose I must be,’ Ariadnne answered, earning a sharp glance from Melixanthe.

She winced, but it had been an obvious question. Her vivid violet eyes were the giveaway—her race’s trademark. Ariadnne wondered, sometimes, what vast sum of money the Guild had offered her parents when her eyes changed, revealing her varanyen heritage, or whether mentioning that a curse would kill her slowly without the Council’s help had persuaded them to hand her over. Not that it mattered. All varanyen became Guild property eventually, one way or another.

Melixanthe shunted Ariadnne behind her. ‘Apologies for the late arrival. We had to stop for supplies.’

The butler cast a critical eye over the line of attendants and engineers that followed their knights. Many staggered under their heavy loads, red-faced after the uphill march.

‘Yes. Well. The other companies arrived without issue a good thirty minutes ago. They are waiting in the dining hall.’ He offered a thin-lipped smile, giving directions to her first attendant before turning back to Ariadnne. ‘Follow me, if you will.’

They were shown into the blessed cool of the foyer; a large space, chiselled from marble and stone and a vast improvement from the blazing, Lithielian sun. A life-sized portrait of the High Lord hung over their heads, hand on hip as he gazed at the distant horizon, his golden mane billowing regally. Ariadnne snorted, the sound earning her a sideways look from Dantro, one of her knights, who hid a curved smile.

They were ushered towards a set of engraved oak doors at the end of the atrium. The butler threw them open to reveal a vast crowd waiting within a huge, vaulted dining room. Ariadnne cursed her sweaty, dishevelled appearance as ten rows of faces turned to survey her. All beautiful. All impeccably dressed.

Seated amongst the nobles, elemental fae shone like jewels—chosen by the land to be imbued with its magic. The blue-tinted Gales, of which there were many, hailed from Lithiel, but there were also a few Flames from the south alongside sharp-featured Sparks and even an Earthling, his squat form and grizzled face out of place amongst the elegant fae of the court.

Ariadnne fixed her face forwards; palms slick with sweat as she willed her beast down, begging it to stay quiet. There were more people in the hall than she had seen in… scratch that—she’d never seen so many people in one space, and they were all waiting for her.