Page 2 of Wings of Ice and Steel

The buzz of conversation dwindled. Ariadnne blinked, frozen, until Melixanthe nudged her forwards.

There was a singular screech as a large, heavily bearded figure pushed back his chair: Lord D’avant, the High Lord of the Eradiatian kingdom. An edifice of muscle and chiselled angles, his skin was streaked with an air elemental’s swirls, although it was his mastery over all elements, not only that of his province, that granted him the right to rule. His combined power set him apart, giving his hair that brilliant, burnished gold sheen instead of a Gale’s typical white.

Melixanthe took Ariadnne’s elbow, denying her instinct to flee.

‘General!’ the High Lord boomed. ‘You made it.’

The monolithic male strode around the high table and stomped along the rows, turning his probing gaze to their knights.

‘I trust your journey was uneventful?’

‘Of course, my lord,’ Melixanthe nodded. ‘Before you are the best soldiers our Guild has to offer.’

‘I would hope so, given the cost.’ Lord D’avant’s eye glittered. He turned to Ariadnne and, to her surprise, held out his hand. Reluctantly, Ariadnne placed her slender fingers in his meaty palm, and he raised them to his mouth. She forced herself not to recoil as his whiskers tickled her skin.

‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ he said in a softer voice, his dark eyes meeting hers. Ariadnne managed a thin smile, reminding herself to be quiet and deferential.

Stroke the pompous prick’s ego.

‘It is an honour, my lord.’

Her words satisfied him, and he straightened. ‘Come. Sit. Your Guildmates are already filling up on bread and ale.’

He turned back to his throne, and Ariadnne spotted those bearing the Guild’s emblem sprinkled amongst those at the lower tables. Melixanthe tightened her grip on Ariadnne’s elbow, falling into place behind the High Lord while their knights peeled off to find vacant seats.

The other Guild captains were already seated at the high table. Sol, captain and handler to Lucius, glanced up as they approached, dark brows knotting as he leaned to whisper something in Lucius’ ear. No doubt Ariadnne’s tardiness would provide ammunition for his disapproving scowls. He and Melixanthe were longstanding rivals, but Lucius smiled encouragingly when he caught her looking.

Her eyes darted away as a servant pulled out a chair for her beside the High Lord’s throne. Before she could take it, Melixanthe stepped forward, bumping Ariadnne to the seat beside Lucius. Protecting her.

Regulus, seated with his captain on the other side of the throne, tried to catch her eye. She ignored the attempt, hardly in the mood to entertain his flirtations. Managing Lucius would be challenging enough.

His gold-tanned face beamed as she took her seat. ‘Ari—’

‘Don’t. Please, Lucius.’

The varan deflated.

‘I was just going to say hi. It’s been a while.’

There was a tiny part of Ariadnne that felt bad for being so prickly.

‘Sorry. As you said, it’s been a while.’

Mollified, Lucius nodded, a soft smile tipping the corner of his mouth, and turned back to his plate.

Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d give her peace for the rest of the meal. Her stomach rumbled, tempted by the basket of rosemary-scented bread a servant placed nearby. Etiquette be damned, she reached for the basket, but Melixanthe’s fingers tapped her arm. Ariadnne’s nostrils flared, and she dropped her hand. The petulant part of her noticed that Sol hadn’t denied Lucius bread. She was about to ask Melixanthe if water would be permitted when the flash of an Iceling’s silver hair caught her eye: a knight in white enamelled armour sat at the low tables, brazenly ignoring the hush of the hall as she continued her conversation. As if summoned by Ariadnne’s gaze, the knight glanced up and Ariadnne’s breath caught as she realised this was the newly famous White Knight; the Guild’s only ice elemental and Sol’s second in command.

Ariadnne stared. Melixanthe had spoken of trying to acquire this knight for Ariadnne’s company, but the knight had refused, claiming loyalty to Sol. Apparently, she’d been a nobody foot soldier, far from her lands, marching under some southern Lord’s banner when Sol had noticed and recruited her. Rising through the Guild’s ranks at breakneck speed, she’d become his Second within a few years. Success like that would inflate anyone’s ego, and Ariadnne had imagined her insufferable.

Bright, ice-blue eyes, slightly slanted in the way of the Miradaelaen fae, locked with hers, and from nowhere Ariadnne felt a flutter.

The knight was beautiful. Melixanthe hadn’t mentioned that.

Braided silver hair swept behind delicately pointed ears, and her lips tilted in a half-smile at whatever her companion shared with her. Pale eyebrows rose as the knight leaned back, and a faint flush heated Ariadnne’s cheeks in response. She ripped her eyes away to study the grain of the table, remaining studious as Lord D’avant took his seat and conversation rippled out across the hall.

Beside her, Melixanthe shifted. ‘You have a lovely home, my Lord.’

Lord D’avant waved her pleasantries aside, putting his hands on the table.