Four
Ariadnne
The hall was a clamour of noise and bustle as lunch ended. Dantro was the unfortunate knight picked to be Ariadnne’s guard for the afternoon while the other knights had leave to venture into the city. Melixanthe, of course, made it clear Ariadnne was to stay in the castle.
So, no fun for her, then. She didn’t know why she was surprised.
As rest of the company headed towards the castle gates, talking with excited gestures, snippets of conversation drifted back over the clamour of the hall.
‘…Oh, I’ve heard their street food is to die for…’ Kayla’s voice rose as she linked arms with Han, his still-boyish face lit at the prospect.
‘I’m sorry you got landed with babysitting duty.’ Ariadnne glanced at Dantro, his face framed by a shock of Gale-white hair.
He shrugged and gave her a wide smile. ‘Don’t worry about it. I was born in this city. I’ve seen it all.’ He fell into step beside her. ‘Where to, then?’
Ariadnne picked at a nail. ‘Would it be terrible if we found the castle library?’
‘Lead the way.’
Ariadnne exhaled. Dantro was easy company, with few expectations—which was exactly what she needed.
His air affinity lent him a tall, lean frame with faint swirls marking his skin.
Other elemental fae took on their own features: Flames had their shocking auburn hair and amber eyes, while Earthlings were, quite frankly, a bit troll-like.
And Nieve… well, her smooth, pale skin and silver hair were hallmarks of her ice affinity, along with her delicate elfen features and slender form that curved in all the right places…
Dantro walked right into the back of her as her feet slowed.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered, and Ariadnne looked away so he wouldn’t see the pink heating her cheeks.
She needed to stop thinking. Nieve was a knight. A very talented—true—but probably-insufferable-once-you-got-to-know-her knight.
A frustrated breath hissed through her lips. The library. Books were the best distraction.
They started down a large corridor, lit by hovering faelights, until they came to a grand hallway.
Two twisting stairways led upwards to a second floor.
Exquisite carvings of exotic flora and fauna graced the handrail, silken smooth under Ariadnne’s touch, while fragrant jasmine weaved between the railings giving the stair an organic, living feel.
Cresting the top, Ariadnne led Dantro down another hallway. Up here the floors were carpeted with a deep green rug, flowering plants filling giant vases on every corner. A set of double doors beckoned her onwards. As she cracked them, she was met by the enticing smell of musty books.
She stepped into the library, eyes wide.
Spanning three levels, there were more books than she could read in a hundred years.
Dantro settled his wiry frame into an armchair by the hearth, happy to wait while Ariadnne gorged on the titles offered.
She wandered through the aisles. Fiction, histories, books about magic, anything she could possibly want was at her fingertips.
She toyed with the titles, lingering over some dusty tomes describing the ancient Varax; demons whose invasion of fae lands spawned the dark fae.
Human and fae had banded together to repel the invasion, pushing the Varax back into the abyss, led by the mighty varanya, Beatrix, though she had not come away unscathed.
The last Varax cursed her race before the pit swallowed him.
A curse that the Guild Council fought tooth and nail to keep at bay.
Ariadnne’s fingers hovered over the faded spine of one of those books before moving on down the shelf.
She settled on something a little easier to read; something that wouldn’t make her feel so guilty about killing humans potentially terrorised by dark fae.
Seizing the tome between her fingers, she left the stacks and curled in the chair opposite Dantro to read.
Thirty minutes later she was struggling to concentrate.
‘Dantro, have you fought humans before?’ she asked, extracting herself from her book.
To date her experience was limited to fighting Kargan raiding parties and settling border disputes in the southern provinces.
Not battling tens of thousands. Although she should be capable, the impending fight unsettled her in more ways than one.
Dantro had been content to gaze into the bare fireplace and entertain himself using puffs of air to keep a coin airborne. As Ariadnne spoke, he pocketed his coin.
‘Yes.’ He played with a loose thread on the arm of his chair. ‘I wouldn’t underestimate them. They have greater numbers and little regard for their own lives.’
Ariadnne fell silent for a beat, then asked, ‘Dantro, do you ever worry about the morals of the battles the Guild pick for us?’
‘No,’ he replied easily. ‘I’ve been doing this a hundred and fifty years. If I worried about the who or why of our contracts, I’d never get any sleep. We are paid well, and for every battle there has to be someone who wins.’
Ariadnne thought about this. She supposed the big difference for her was that Dantro had chosen this life. She hadn’t.
*
As Ariadnne returned to her room, Melixanthe wasn’t yet waiting so she seized the opportunity to have a bath and freshen up while Dantro stood guard outside the door, giving her privacy.
The bathroom was nice enough, with a large stone tub stretching along one wall.
Magically heated water came from the taps and Ariadnne examined the range of soaps and lotions arranged on the vanity before choosing a subtle forest scent to add to the water.
As she undressed, the myriad of scars across her forearms and belly caught her eye in the mirror, marring her caramel skin. Her violet eyes swirled and shifted, setting her apart and preventing her from ever hiding what she was. A shifter. Irrevocably different.
And at her throat…she fingered the faded welt that the Council’s collar had left her with. A reminder to keep her nose in line.
Turning from the mirror, Ariadnne climbed into the bath and sank into the water.
It felt so good on her tight muscles. She let herself close her eyes and breathe in the undertones of pine.
The scent made her think of Nieve, and she ran her hands through her hair to clear her head.
Would Nieve ‘disappear’ if Melixanthe caught her gaze lingering one too many times?
Or would her distraction feed back to the Council and result in some obscure punishment—a curtailing of what limited freedoms Ariadnne had.
Her reverie was interrupted by Melixanthe.
‘Ariadnne? Where are you?’ she heard her call.
‘In here,’ she replied with a sigh.
‘Ah, good.’ Her handler marched into the bathroom, glancing down at where Ariadnne lay before leaning against the wall, one hand drifting to the pendant that hung at her neck.
Ariadnne had never learned the significance of the trinket, a simple stone carved into the shape of the moon-god, Dianea.
Melixanthe didn’t keep much from her, but had always remained tight-lipped about the trinket’s origins.
Melixanthe’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, and she sighed.
‘I’m sorry if I seemed harsh yesterday. I couldn’t have you lose control in front of an important client like D’avant.
’ She pursed her lips. ‘I know he’s a bit…
difficult, but I don’t want a repeat of your teenage years.
’ She threw Ariadnne a dark look. ‘You remember?’
Of course, Ariadnne remembered. She had been angry. A lot. And had burst out her skin in many embarrassing situations. She had spent many a week isolated in a cell to reflect, and her invitations to Guild functions had dwindled.
Melixanthe sighed again at Ariadnne’s silence, a long and weary exhale.
‘Anyway.’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no word yet as to when we need to get moving.’
This was disappointing, Ariadnne would have preferred a solid plan. She sank under the water to wash her hair. When she rose, Melixanthe was examining her nails.
‘Could you pass me that towel?’ Ariadnne said, getting to her feet. As Melixanthe passed it over, Ariadnne asked, ‘How long till dinner?’
‘An hour.’
‘That long? Gods, I’ll waste away…’
Melixanthe laughed, ‘No, you won’t. Believe me girl, you don’t know hunger.
I remember being on campaign with Primus’ company in Thresh and laying siege to their fortress.
’ Ariadnne closed her eyes and drew the soft towel tighter about her; sometimes her handler got a bit lost on her walks down memory lane.
‘We were there over a week; the land was completely barren, and our supplies ran out,’ Melixanthe continued.
‘I know, you’ve told me before, you were this close to choosing fae to sacrifice to Primus’ enormous appetite.’ Ariadnne finished the story and gave Melixanthe a wry smile. ‘I’m not ‘eat my friends’ hungry, but, gods, I could eat.’
Melixanthe’s eyes danced with laughter as she turned and led the way out of the bathroom. Ariadnne was about to follow when a violent tremor wracked her form, and she doubled over. At the sound of her grunt Melixanthe turned back, eyes narrowed.
‘Already? It’s barely been eight days.’ She chewed her lip, concern creasing her brows as she fumbled in a pocket. ‘You didn’t tell me the tremors had started…’
There was a soft clink as she pulled out a vial, its contents a deep, swirling violet. Ariadnne grasped for it and pulled the stopper free to down the contents. Blessed relief spread through her limbs, soothing the pain.
‘I didn’t think it was bad yet,’ she muttered, avoiding her handler’s reproachful gaze.
Most varanyen dosed once a month, but Ariadnne was more severely affected, usually needing a dose every fortnight. In times of stress, it could be more.
It was inconvenient, to say the least.
‘Next time, tell me when they start,’ Melixanthe admonished her.
Ariadnne would have rolled her eyes if she’d been less tired. As it was, she merely nodded. They had a meal to get ready for.
*
Dressed in a deep blue sleeveless leather tunic with a silver belt, Ariadnne followed Melixanthe to join Lord D’avant’s table for their evening meal.
Fortunately, that night it was to be a much simpler affair, and platters of meats and vegetables were already on the tables for people to help themselves.
Ariadnne greeted the High Lord with a controlled smile. Next to her, Lucius was already working through a small mountain of food. his hair falling into his eyes and his tanned skin dusty from the yard.
‘You look nice tonight, Ari,’ he grunted.
She raised her brows.
‘What? You do,’ he said. Then he snorted and went back to his plate. Ariadnne took the opportunity to survey the hall, her eyes landing on Nieve.
She was seated with her company, laughing and joking.
Ariadnne stared, a warm sensation in her chest destroying her resolve to keep Nieve from her thoughts.
As if feeling Ariadnne’s eyes boring into her, Nieve glanced up.
The edge of her lip tilted as she subtly raised a hand in greeting.
Ariadnne swallowed the thud-ump of her treasonous pulse before dragging her attention back to D’avant’s conversation.
The High Lord was sharing his plans for the hunter’s moon with Melixanthe, who listened politely.
Ariadnne tried to emulate her, her foot tapping rapidly beneath the table and earning a sharp glance from her handler.
Lord D’avant didn’t seem to have noticed Ariadnne’s disinterest in the topic, distracted as he was by his own vision.
‘Imagine a dance set in the forest of Eldraeth, with woodland nymphs as our servers.’
Melixanthe furrowed her brow. ‘My Lord, I’m having some misgivings as to the wisdom of our attendance. If we were to leave tomorrow instead, we could set up and be ready in plenty of time.’
Lord D’avant’s eyes hardened. ‘There’s no point leaving too soon, General. We’ll just put more strain on the keep’s resources.’
‘I don’t think tomorrow is too soon…’ Melixanthe tried to reply, but Lord D’avant continued.
‘We’ll leave the day after, if you feel we must. Monmouth Keep is an hour’s travel by wing, if that, so we have ample time to make camp and play at being hardened warriors.’
Melixanthe’s stiff shoulders told Ariadnne what she thought about his words.
‘If we are to fight, it may not be wise to let the soldiers indulge in frivolity, sir,’ Melixanthe said carefully.
‘It is the very reason they should indulge! I’m looking forward to that dance, Ariadnne.’
Ariadnne tried not to grimace. ‘As I said before, I’m not much of a dancer...’
‘Nonsense. Anyone who can move like you in the sparring ring can dance.’
Before Ariadnne could say anything, Melixanthe bowed her head. ‘If this is truly what you will, my Lord, we will of course attend.’
The look she shot Ariadnne firmly told her to keep her mouth closed on the topic.
Ariadnne fumed to herself as her company left the great hall. His arrogant dismissal angered her. Who was he to dictate the best course of action for their company?
He was the ruler of the Lithielian province, and High Lord of Eradiata, she reminded herself.
Melixanthe muttered her concerns to Josef, and the knights in front of Ariadnne exchanged glances.
Rook drew his dark brows together and glowered as only he could.
Finnick looked strained as he ran a hand through his hair.
The only knight to crack a smile was Kayla, who genuinely seemed excited at the prospect of a ball.
Melixanthe’s lips tightened as she dismissed the company for the evening.
Before they left, everyone was given a firm warning of what behaviour she expected tomorrow, leaving them with the threat that anyone caught overindulging would lose their place in the company.
As the corridor emptied, Melixanthe gazed ahead at where Rook had just disappeared around a corner.
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ she said in a low, even voice. ‘But don’t. I can’t change it. I tried.’
Ariadnne swallowed the angry words that had been bubbling in her throat.
‘You know my thoughts.’ She forced out some of her tension in a release of breath. ‘Let’s just get through the next day.’ She turned to leave, with Melixanthe trailing in her wake.