Page 64 of Wings of Ice and Steel

There was a distant roar, rushing closer, Lucius barrelled onto the battlefield, hide dull with fatigue. He dove, breathing fire on the ranks of Mordai and reducing them to ash. With a roar of her own, Ariadnne called for his attention and his purple eyes widened as he saw the cloud of Wraiths surrounding her company. He swooped in close, making small sounds of distress.

At that moment Dantro blew a group of Wraiths free and Lucius turned automatically to belch flame their direction. They caught like kindling.

She could hear Melixanthe on her neck yelling at Lucius, commanding him to be ready to act even as she gave the signal to Ariadnne to roll again.

Ariadnne threw herself into a tight spin at the same time as both Gales forced a tunnel of air along her length, forcing over half the Wraiths to lose their grip.

Lucius was waiting and burnt them all to a crisp the moment they were clear. Roaring her approval, Ariadnne repeated the move again, and with the help of the knights pushing the last Wraiths free, they managed to rid themselves of the foul creatures.

She turned her eyes downwards, readying herself to help Lucius in destroying the last of the Mordai, but paused as she heard Melixanthe grunt. Twisting her neck, she saw that her handler was sporting a fresh arrow to the thigh. Her eyes swirled as she viewed the knights nearby, none appeared to be looking in Melixanthe’s direction. She caught Lucius flying past out of the corner of her eye, Sol peering over his shoulder. Was it another ‘accident’? Anger rumbled in her belly.

On her neck Melixanthe stood firm regardless and gave the order to attack. Wrenching her mind away from Melixanthe’s new injury, Ariadnne obeyed, following Lucius into a dive to wipe the Mordai from the mountains.

Twenty-nine

Ariadnne

Sand billowed as Ariadnne landed in the training yard, her usually iridescent hide faded and wings aching with fatigue. Melixanthe had commanded her to fly straight home as soon as they’d cleared the last of the dark fae from the valley, leaving Lucius to ensure the safety of its people. Ariadnne was sure the gruelling flight back was only the first part of the punishment she could expect.

The weakened victims of the Wraiths were helped to the ground and led, pale and staggering, in the direction of the Healer’s wing. Nieve was subdued as she dismounted, her usually vibrant features drawn and closed. Ariadnne’s dragon-heart ached, wishing she could offer comfort for what must be a monumental loss.

As the last knight dismounted, Ariadnne shuddered back into her fae form, stepping delicately out of the harness that pooled at her feet and gratefully taking the tunic offered by a nearby servant. Exhaustion raged through every limb.

After a look from Melixanthe, Josef ushered the knights out of the yard. Nieve twisted her neck, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ as she was forced to follow the company. Ariadnne knew she would risk Melixanthe’s wrath a thousand times for gratitude in Nieve’s eyes.

Ariadnne braced herself and turned to face her handler, expecting to feel the full force of her anger. She was surprised to see Melixanthe breathing deeply—her skin clammy and pale with a faint sheen of sweat.

Melixanthe drew herself upright, favouring her wounded leg. There was a hardness in her eyes that Ariadnne hadn’t seen for many years.

‘You don’t look right—’

‘It can wait,’ Melixanthe clipped and Ariadnne prepared herself to take whatever her handler doled out. ‘What in nine hells was that, Ariadnne?’ she asked, dangerously low.

Ariadnne fidgeted, language abandoning her as she tried to form words.

‘Don’t gawk like a fish. Why were you out of your wing?’

‘I, uh.’ Ariadnne swallowed as her mind frantically sought any excuse. ‘I went for a midnight flight. I’m sorry. I know you forbade it.’ She cast her eyes down, hoping the partial truth was explanation enough.

To her relief, Melixanthe’s stiff form softened, and she released a deep breath.

‘I thought we’d put a stop to that years ago,’ she said, and stared at the sky. ‘Ariadnne, I don’t think you understand the enormity of what your actions might have cost us.’ She closed her eyes and fell perfectly still, before speaking in a softer tone. ‘The Council doesn’t think I’m controlling you well enough. They don’t think I’ve ever controlled you well enough. They don’t want me to be your handler, Ari. They never have. There are… reasons that they believe me an unsuitable choice. So, you see, it’s not only you under scrutiny. It’s me.’

Ariadnne gaped, dumbstruck at the frank honesty in Melixanthe’s tone. She had never seen her vulnerable, but tonight her eyes were creased with uncertainty. It unsettled Ariadnne to her core.

With a shake of her head, Melixanthe turned to walk away.

‘You forced my hand today,’ she said over her shoulder as she left. ‘It was badly done.’

Guilt swirled in Ariadnne’s breast, but it was accompanied by a flicker of anger. The Council already controlled every aspect of her life. Now they controlled Melixanthe’s too?

She didn’t feel like playing their game anymore.

*

‘That sounds awful!’ Sascha exclaimed as she arranged Ariadnne’s hair. A day had passed since their return—a day in which she’d been locked in her rooms. Waiting for Melixanthe’s inevitable wrath while unknown guards delivered meals. When her handler never came, Ariadnne slipped into a fitful sleep, hanging onto the sense of Nieve that thrummed through their bond.

Her mate grieved, a spiralling well of emotions sharp as a wall of thorns, drawing closer with each breath. Ariadnne could die from the need to be with her. Comfort her—a need that cracked into her disjointed dreams until morning broke and Sascha arrived, apologising for her absence and informing Ariadnne that her training was to resume as usual that day.