Page 83 of Wings of Ice and Steel

The guard didn’t say a word as he pushed the doors open and Nieve stepped through into the panelled luxury beyond. A roaring fire dominated the hearth, and before it an enormous semi-circular table boasted a seat for each of the seven councillors.

To the left, the ebony-skinned Councillor Sarlemon was deep in conversation with Councillor Reathin, while Councillors Hrothgar and Wisteard appeared bored and impatient—with heads tilted and yawns escaping their lips. Councillor Jagen took the central position, his chest puffed with his own importance, flanked by Councillors Leth and Vesta. All seven fell silent as Nieve entered, immediately self-conscious. She strode to the front of the table, straightening her spine under the weight of their eyes.

‘Nieve,’ Councillor Jagen boomed. ‘Welcome. We were informed that Melixanthe has already imparted the happy news?’

‘Yes, Councillor.’ Nieve bowed her head. ‘Thank you for thinking so highly of me, but…’

‘How could we not?’ Councillor Jagen interrupted. ‘We heard that you were key in defending the wall at Monmouth Keep. Actions such as yours deserve to be rewarded.’

Nieve’s skin prickled. Leth stared at her with an uncomfortable intensity, his dark eyes piercing over his hawk-like nose.

Councillor Jagen turned to Vesta. ‘You have the details.’

‘Yes.’ Councillor Vesta turned his rheumy eyes to Nieve, his many wrinkles creasing as he spoke. ‘Yes, the varan child is to be delivered here in one week. You may have the honour of bestowing a name upon him, if you wish. He is a little older than we’d like. Eleven, I believe. But we are sure you will rise to the challenge of indoctrinating him into our ways.’

Nieve’s eyes widened. The very idea repulsed her. She knew shifter young could occur, almost at random, amongst the fae, and it occurred to her that this boy must have had a family who had loved him, tried to hide him from the Guild scouts—and kept him secret and safe for eleven years.

Had the Guild bought him? Or had they taken him by force? A thought ran like ice through her blood. Was his family still alive?

Was this what Melixanthe had been asked to do when she had taken Ariadnne on? Break her?

A new sense of disgust rolled through her. She wanted no part of this.

‘I thank you again for the honour, but…’

‘Yes. Yes, it will be unprecedented that a knight is brought to the rank of captain after only being with us for five years.’ Councillor Jagen interrupted. ‘You truly have been honoured to receive our general’s recommendation. New quarters will be assigned to you tomorrow as befitting your new status, and we will be selecting a new company for you over the coming week—once the boy has settled into your care. You are dismissed.’

Nieve’s mouth opened; she was still reeling from the idea of this child being thrust at her. Fresh hatred for Melixanthe poured in for putting her in this position, and she fought to unstick the words needed to reject this honour. A rising sense of hopelessness washed through her as she looked from face to face. Bored indifference met her gaze.

Around her, the mahogany shelves and marble pillars pressed inward with a suffocating sense of grandeur. Had anyone rejected such an honour before? Would it draw more negative attention to Ariadnne? She knew how closely they watched her. Perhaps Melixanthe had told them that they needed to be separated? It felt like there could be repercussions to anything she said, and while she was prepared to live with the consequences, she couldn’t be sure Ariadnne wouldn’t also suffer. With a sense of despair, she bowed her head and turned to leave.

‘Wait.’ Councillor Leth’s thin voice stopped her. ‘I almost forgot, I have a letter for you from the General. She turned to see that he had risen, his wiry form leaning over the table to proffer a letter towards her. It bore Melixanthe’s seal. There was a glint in his eye as she turned back to take it. Hurriedly, she took the letter and clutched it in her hand as she left the room. She wasn’t in a good frame of mind to read anything by Melixanthe’s hand. What could the General possibly have left to say?

Thirty-six

Ariadnne

Brentworth raised his hands in surrender, despairing at Ariadnne’s inattention and dismissing her early that afternoon.

‘I don’t know what to do with you when you are like this,’ he grumbled. ‘The Council expect me to work a miracle if you are to be fluent in Braemish by next year.’ He turned back to his musty tomes and let Ariadnne slip gratefully from the room, under the watchful eye of her guard.

Sascha found her lounging in her quarters.

‘Here you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘I was looking for you. Melixanthe requested you meet her for dinner tonight. She had me set the table in the small dining room. Said she had some good news for you.’

She bustled around the room, straightening cushions.

‘I hope you’ll not say anything about last night? She’ll have my head if she finds out I lent Nieve the key.’

‘Oh, Sascha.’ Ariadnne smiled. ‘I don’t think you need to worry about Melixanthe.’

Sascha raised her eyebrows and Ariadnne forced her mouth to behave, to stop smiling at the thought of Nieve. She felt giddy with joy after their night together, and now knowing Melixanthe was trying to help them, perhaps she could even arrange times for them to be together—

‘I can promise you won’t be punished for helping her.’

Sascha looked visibly relieved. Ariadnne’s... mother… could be quite intimidating.

‘Dinner should be ready in an hour,’ she said with a warm smile before heading for the door.