Page 30 of Wings of Ice and Steel

‘So, we don’t tell them.’ Nieve’s brow arched in a way that made Ariadnne’s pulse thrum. ‘Ariadnne.’ She reached for her hands. ‘I’m not going to apologise for how I feel, and I think, no—after that kiss I know you feel the same. I don’t know what will happen, but I can tell you I want to find out. Nothing that’s worthwhile is easy, and I’ve never chosen the easy path. I don’t intend to start now. I’d like to see where this goes. If you want the same?’

Ariadnne didn’t know what to say. Of course she wanted that… she had half expected Nieve to run once there was a hurdle. The fact that she hadn’t made her feel… stronger.

The memory of Nieve’s lips shivered across Ariadnne’s skin, and she took a step closer, the pull between them too great to fight. She didn’t want to fight it.

A roar from the crowd on the other side of the tents brought her awareness back with a rush. The green fabric of the tent snapped in the breeze, the case of armour lying forgotten at their feet.

‘The company. They’re waiting…’ Ariadnne looked up apologetically.

Nieve ran a hand through her hair. ‘The company. Yes, of course.’

‘I…I don’t want the easy path, either,’ Ariadnne said tentatively, and Nieve’s face broke into a brilliant smile.

‘Then let’s get you into your armour. We’ll play nice for our hosts. It’ll be busy at the dinner. Everyone will be a little tipsy—I’m sure I can steal a moment with you. It would be good to…talk.’

Now Ariadnne’s lips curved. ‘Talk?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that was what choosing the harder path entailed…’

With a laugh Nieve gave her arm a gentle shove and, reluctantly, Ariadnne crouched to unclasp the case and set out the silver pieces within.

It was time to dress as befitted the Guild’s prize possession.

The armour itself was impractical, designed purely to make her look impressive. Ariadnne slid the breastplate with its gilded dragon’s head over her tunic, grimacing as it pressed on the more tender stitches, and reached for a pauldron.

‘I can help.’ Nieve took it from her and fitted it to her shoulder. She continued piece by piece, soft fingers fastening the buckles and straps that held each part in place.

Ariadnne studied her; the way her forehead crinkled slightly as she concentrated, and the way her silver hair slipped out of her braids into her eyes—which were beautifully slanted in the way of the Miridaelean fae.

‘You’re from the Miradael mountains?’ Ariadnne asked to distract herself from the ache born from Nieve’s proximity and the gentle touch of her fingers.

‘I was, but I left a long time ago.’ Nieve glanced up as she replied.

‘Headhunted for Gastalt’s army?’

‘No.’ Nieve’s smile turned bitter. ‘I was a latecomer to soldiering. I had a few rough years before I stumbled into his ranks.’ She smiled sadly. ‘My village… it was destroyed many years ago. The raiders responsible only spared the girls who were useful for their… entertainment.’

Horror speared through her. The Miradaelean massacre. Ariadnne had learned of it in her lessons; bandits had drugged the capital town’s water supply and moved in while they were defenceless. So many dead—including the Lord of Miradael and his entire family. Nieve had lived through that.

Nieve continued without looking at her, concentrating on the buckles and fastenings. ‘They kept us drugged to keep our magic weak, but eventually I got my hands on a sword and disembowelled every last one of the bastards,’ she said this in a matter-of-fact way. Ariadnne was sure it hid a well of grief and pain. She took Nieve’s hand to still her.

‘If you hadn’t, I would gut them now—as I would any who hurt you,’ she promised.

‘I know you would.’ Nieve flashed her a curved smile and pulled her hand free to fasten the last greave in place before stepping back. ‘Don’t dwell on it. I’ve made my peace with the past.’ She tilted her head and appraised the effect of the armour, giving Ariadnne a low whistle. ‘You look like a living legend,’ she said appreciatively.

‘That’s what they’re going for,’ Ariadnne grimaced. ‘It helps the lords feel like they got their money’s worth.’

Nieve shook her head. ‘I don’t think they’d doubt that, seeing as you carried the battle for them, and they only needed to pay for three dragons.’ She gently touched the side of Ariadnne’s face, and Ariadnne struggled to wrench her eyes from her mouth as she stepped back. Gods, why was she filled with the primal need to claim that mouth? She blamed her volatile dragon hormones.

Nieve continued, oblivious to Ariadnne’s struggle. ‘Since we’re getting to know each other, where are you from, you know, pre-Guild?’

Ariadnne blinked and tried to bring her mind back from imagining Nieve pressed against the floor beneath her. She cleared her throat.

‘I don’t know. My earliest memories are with the Guild. They said my parents handed me over willingly once they knew what I was but...’ she said with a shrug. ‘Who knows.’

A strange emotion flitted across Nieve’s face before she controlled it, giving Ariadnne a small smile. ‘Maybe that’s easier?’

The crowd nearby cheered and Ariadnne imagined it was Lucius and Regulus emerging in their ceremonial costumes.

‘We should go,’ Ariadnne said and took Nieve’s hand, interlacing their fingers briefly.