Page 5 of Wings of Ice and Steel

‘Fine. I just want to have a look at that display over there—' She pointed at a glass case set against the wall and Sol glowered. She didn’t have a plan. She rarely did. Instead, she drifted toward the case to admire the priceless artifacts and watched out of the corner of her eye as Ariadnne tilted her head to examine a book. Her braided hair fell from her neck, revealing a faded scar that encircled her throat.

Nieve was taken aback by the urge to seek out and hurt whoever had given her that scar. She was about to step closer when—

‘I see you’ve found my collection of Karganese arrowheads.’ Lord D’avant’s voice startled her. She spun, and came face to chest with his doublet. She looked up, and the High Lord’s lip curled in a wolverine smile. ‘All made entirely of emerald,’ he purred. ‘As per their custom.’

Nieve glanced at the display of coarsely cut gemstones, mind scrambling for an appropriate response to what felt like a rude interruption.

‘Emerald hardly seems a practical choice.’

‘A stone abundant in their jungles.’ Lord D’avant took on a benevolent tone. ‘The Kargans believe they can absorb the life force of anything shot with one of these, providing it’s a clean kill.’ He drew her attention to a particular row. ‘Before battle, they hunt with these kargishna. The larger the kill, the more strength they believe they will gain.’ The High Lord glanced across at Ariadnne, tongue slipping out to moisten his lips. Nieve disliked the hungry look in his eye and shifted to place herself between them as he continued, ‘I’d suggest a hunt, though from what I’ve heard your knights have no need of any extra prowess. Neither does she.’ He nodded at Ariadnne.

‘No, I suspect not,’ Nieve said more curtly than she intended and Lord D’avant’s beady eyes glanced down at her.

She shifted under his gaze. Awkward. Until she was saved by a bespectacled courtier who approached to ask the High Lord’s opinion on a handwritten account of Braemish Lore.

Lord D’avant’s face brightened. ‘Ah. I think you’ll find there are multiple accounts that all speak of that era, and no two are the same.’ He brushed Nieve’s existence under the rug as he followed the courtier over to the fire.

Thank the gods. Nieve didn’t know how Ariadnne put up with the ego-inflated prick over dinner. She turned back and saw that the varanya in question had taken a seat with a book in the corner, her long legs curled under her in a way that suggested she felt quite at home with a book in her hand. Nieve pulled at the collar of her armour, too warm, and considered her options.

There was only one she liked.

Ariadnne looked in surprise as Nieve dragged a chair over and dropped into it with a clatter.

‘This is a nice spot,’ she said, a smile pulling at her lips as Ariadnne’s mouth opened and shut. Nieve’s nose tingled; Ariadnne smelled…good, like ice laced with brimstone, mixed with cardamon and bright winter’s sun. She smelled like something worth tasting.

A servant appeared, bearing a tray of rich-coloured wine. Nieve took the proffered glass and swirled it, banishing her wildly inappropriate thoughts.

‘Milady?’ He offered the same to Ariadnne and she took one, before setting it untouched on the small side-table and placing her book alongside it.

‘What are you reading?’ Nieve asked.

‘Oh.’ Ariadnne shifted in her seat. ‘… Just something I plucked off the shelf. A history. I think.’ She glanced away, tugging at her sleeve, and Nieve was struck with the realisation that Ariadnne was shy.

The mighty, war-ending creature of this age was shy. Of all the scenarios Nieve could concoct revolving around the supposedly spoiled Guild pet, that wasn’t one of them.

‘Umm—’ Ariadnne’s eyes flicked back, dark pupils rimmed by midnight amethyst. Nieve could have sworn they were lighter earlier. She stuck out her hand, body moving before brain, as usual.

‘I’m Nieve, by the way.’

Confusion crinkled Ariadnne’s brow, as though no one in their right mind would offer her their hand. Hesitantly, Ariadnne took it, her warm fingers both calloused and soft.

‘I’m Ariadnne.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Though I suspect you knew that.’

Her voice slid over Nieve’s skin like molten silk; rich, soft and measured. Captivating. The spark in her belly that flickered when she’d caught Ariadnne watching her at dinner flared, and Nieve knew she was playing with fire.

She cleared her throat. ‘I think everyone in this room knows who you are, much as they’re trying not to stare.’ She waved at an overly curious noble, who turned beetroot-red and spun away. Chuckling, Nieve turned back. ‘I have to admit I didn’t expect you to be so…’ She halted as Ariadnne’s brow raised, a rogue heat spreading across her cheeks. ‘I meant… well, when I pictured the only female varanyen of our generation I imagined your… you… would be different,’ she foundered and Ariadnne huffed a laugh.

‘You thought I would be a bit more ‘animal,’ like them.’ She nodded towards Lucius and Regulus. The varanyen were sprawled out on their chairs, legs akimbo as they knocked back glasses of the sweet wine under the watchful eyes of their handlers.

‘Something like that.’ Nieve bit back a grin. ‘You’re not, though. Far from it.’

There was a flush of pink at the tips of Ariadnne’s ears, a soft rose that spread to her neck, and Nieve wondered if she’d crossed a line. She was in uncharted territory, and the attractive shifter in front of her was making her mouth run faster than her brain. Her pulse hammered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…

‘Be that as it may.’ The hint of a smile ghosted over Ariadnne’s lips. ‘No one else in this room is risking Melixanthe’s wrath to speak to me. Tell me. Why are you over here instead of playing court with your captain?’

‘Well.’ Nieve chuckled. ‘It turns out I’m not very good at doing things I’m told to. Sol said I should leave you alone, so here I am…’

Ariadnne’s violet eyes pierced her. ‘Funny. I’ve heard a little about you. I did think you’d be a bit taller though.’ The varanya’s lip curled.