Page 19 of Wings of Ice and Steel

Lord D’avant’s eyes darted to Ariadnne as she strode to her handler’s side. The intensity of his gaze made Nieve’s skin prickle.

‘I think you are blowing this out of proportion,’ he snapped. ‘The message clearly said the army is a day’s march away. We can leave tomorrow.’

‘No, Lord. We need to get to the camp. Enough is enough.’ Melixanthe squared up to the sullen lord. ‘Your idea of “tomorrow” will have us leaving at midday! We need to get our knights packed and into the skies.’

‘Leaving tonight is absurd.’ Lord D’avant all but spat. He was behaving like a petulant child deprived of a favourite plaything, but when he glanced at Ariadnne, his features softened. ‘Ariadnne. Let’s hear your opinion. We’ve had word from the wall that the humans are now a days march away. The General is being most unreasonable.’

Nieve watched Ariadnne turn to Melixanthe. ‘Precisely when do they predict the humans will reach the wall?’ she asked quietly.

‘Mid-afternoon tomorrow. But scouts can be wrong,’ Melixanthe said stiffly back. Nieve thought she was right to want to get moving. There was nothing worse than being caught on a back foot.

Ariadnne paused before saying, ‘The knights need rest before they fight, as do I. I vote we dismiss them now to get a few hours’ sleep and leave late tonight.’

Lord D’avant pouted, but Melixanthe relaxed her posture. ‘You’re thinking clearly, Ariadnne. Yes, that’s a good plan.’

Unable to be contrary in the face of Ariadnne’s reasoning, Lord D’avant inclined his head. His eyes lingered too long in Nieve’s opinion, before he whirled away, trailing his long cloak behind him.

Melixanthe mouthed Thank you to Ariadnne, which was curious, then her eyes landed on Nieve, hovering. Nieve turned to move deeper into the crowd, but Melixanthe called out, ‘Nieve. Over here, please. I’d like a word.’

Nieve’s breath caught. She glanced at Ariadnne, who looked puzzled. For a horrible moment, Nieve wondered if Melixanthe had seen them on the balcony and assumed… perhaps they’d stood too close. Or looked too comfortable.

Melixanthe gestured again and, with a lump in her throat, Nieve obeyed her summons.

‘I’ve noticed you getting to know my ward. I wondered if perhaps you’ve reconsidered my offer?’

Ariadnne looked between them, her forehead forming tiny wrinkles that Nieve would have thought were adorable if Melixanthe’s question hadn’t just knocked the wind out of her.

The offer—an opportunity to join the most powerful company in the Guild. Ariadnne’s company. An offer she’d already turned down, and now Melixanthe had put her on the spot. If she’d asked Nieve a few days ago, Nieve would have given her the same answer as before—that she was happy with Sol and didn’t want to move. But… Her eyes darted across the dance floor, to where her company was gathered. Melixanthe cleared her throat.

‘This would be a prestigious leap for you. One you’ve earned.’

Nieve’s mind spun. ‘I know,’ she stumbled on the words. ‘I… I’ve been thinking about it, General. It’s… I’m not sure my captain would like it.’ Which was an understatement. Sol would hate it.

The general studied her, and her voice softened. ‘Your loyalty to your captain is commendable, knight, but you are due a promotion. Sol has been aware for a while that this was my plan for you.’ She tapped her foot. ‘He and Lucius are very experienced. They will be fine without you. Ariadnne’s company, however, is still forming and could use your skill. Ariadnne is very green. This coming battle… it’ll be her first of this magnitude,’ she said this last quietly with a glance toward the surrounding captains, ensuring none were in earshot. Ariadnne heard, though, and seemed to deflate.

Nieve’s heart pounded. Firstly, she wasn’t sure she appreciated Ariadnne being referred to as ‘green’; she was evidently lethal as fae, and Nieve had heard enough about her other form to have a healthy respect… and secondly, here Melixanthe was, again, offering Nieve a place in her company. In Ariadnne’s company. A sharp breath escaped her lips, and Ariadnne’s gaze flickered her way, expression unreadable.

Before Nieve could speak, Melixanthe stepped forward. ‘Think on it tonight. I would feel better having you with us tomorrow, but I won’t force you.’ She turned to Ariadnne. ‘Come,’ she said abruptly, taking her by the elbow and leading away from the ballroom.

Eight

Ariadnne

Ariadnne lay in her room. Not on the bed, of course. The roiling flurry of her thoughts did not match well with pillowy blankets and soft bedding. Instead, she stretched out on the thick, bearskin rug in front of the room’s empty hearth, embracing the welcoming chill from the flagstones below.

Not only was she flying to war tomorrow, to be responsible for the lives of her company, but Melixanthe had re-offered Nieve a place in that company. Permanently.

That thought kept chasing the others right out of her head.

If Nieve said yes—and there was no guarantee she would—Ariadnne would see her again. Every day during training.

But Ariadnne had no freedoms at home—less so than here. There was only training, her rooms, and Melixanthe’s watchful eye.

She rolled over, the hard surface digging into her ribs. Perhaps it would be better if Nieve stayed with Lucius.

No. That thought didn’t sit right, either.

Gods, the way Nieve had looked in that crimson dress; all lean lines and soft curves. Ariadnne was in trouble. With a huff she sat, rubbing her hands down her face. A weak, sickly breeze ebbed across her skin from her slit of a window, promising cooler air outside. She dragged herself to her feet, bracing her hands either side of the window and inhaling deeply. Her room overlooked a courtyard, where someone practiced in the moonlight.