Five
Nieve
C
lang. Failion’s sword pealed as it hit the stones of the courtyard.
‘Ra’Tel’s balls. Nieve. What’s up with you?’ he grunted and nursed his wrist where her disarm had bruised his skin.
It was a good question. Nieve wasn’t quite sure what was up with her.
She’d been lost in her own thoughts during their company’s tour around the city, admiring the temples and granite statues that lined the main thoroughfare, but never quite there.
Instead, her mind had been reliving her fight with Ariadnne, and the way Ariadnne had thanked her for doing what was right.
It played over and over; the feel of Ariadnne’s hand against hers; the jolt as she’d pulled her close for that second before the crowd ripped them apart.
Ariadnne was far above her station—Nieve must have repeated that to herself a thousand times that day, even as Sol nudged her to choose a dress for the dance.
She’d done just that, but her first thought had been whether Ariadnne would like it.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like the varanya would be asking her to dance…
She needed to get her head on straight, to stop thinking about things she couldn’t have before it became noticeable. Fortunately, Failion had agreed to help her work out her mood in the courtyard before they retired.
Until she’d grown careless and hurt him.
‘I think we’re done.’ Failion grimaced. ‘My wrist is, anyway. I’ll have to check in with the healer.’
‘Gods, Fal. I’m sorry.’ Nieve bit her lip. ‘I got carried away. Here, let me help.’ She reached for his hand, gently cupping his injured wrist between her palms and letting her magic cool his skin.
‘Thanks.’ The pained lines of his face eased, and he withdrew his hand, nodding for Nieve to follow.
‘Explain to me again how you can put on an incredible show, earning nothing but praise, and yet spend the rest of the day looking like someone pissed in your boots.’ Failion’s lip twitched.
‘You’re not upset that she won, are you?
She’s the deadliest creature the Guild owns. She’s supposed to win.’
No. Nieve wasn’t upset by that at all. Quite the opposite. She had the feeling that Ariadnne wasn’t so deadly once you got to know her, which was making her think about the offer Melixanthe had made a few months ago. The one Nieve had dismissed.
They entered the foyer. Nieve was saved from answering as she caught sight of Sol and a few others from their company walking in the direction of their allotted rooms. Sol was wearing an impressive frown.
‘She deserved to win,’ she answered Failion as she studied Sol’s profile. ‘What’s with Cap? He’s been in a mood today. Do you think he’s pissed that I lost?’
‘Sol?’ Failion followed her gaze, chuckling.
‘He’s been prickly since we were handed our orders.
I wouldn’t worry—I forget sometimes that you’ve not been with us long enough to know our ins and outs.
Sol’s always a little touchy when we work with the General.
They used to be thick as thieves, until her promotion. ’
‘Really?’ Nieve turned to him in surprise. Sol had always been dismissive when Melixanthe was mentioned. It was easy to tell he wasn’t fond of her or her ward, so hearing that it was a recent development surprised her.
‘Yeah. Well.’ Failion cradled his wrist. ‘They were both vying for the same position. She was chosen, and he’s been like this since.’
Nieve had never pegged him for one to hold grudges, but then, she was still new compared to the rest of the company, many of whom had been with Lucius fifty years or more. They turned into a well-lit corridor. Ahead, Sol and the others were already disappearing into their respected rooms.
‘Right, that’s me,’ Failion said, and stopped outside the door to one of their healer’s rooms. ‘I’m going to get patched up.
I’ll see you in the morning—I hope you’ll save me a dance?
’ He waggled his eyebrows and Nieve laughed as she continued past. This wouldn’t be the first formal event she’d attended, but it was the first since she’d made Second in Sol’s company.
There were, apparently, appearances to maintain.
Not Nieve’s strongest suit, but then according to what she’d heard, not Ariadnne’s either.
Everyone had heard the stories of what the varanya had done last year at her own birthday celebration, but now Nieve wondered if Ariadnne had her own story about the event.
She made it to her room only to pause at the door. She wasn’t tired, despite the late hour. Her hand fell from the handle, and instead of going to bed she let her feet carry her onwards. She wanted to be back outside, in the cool evening air.
She traipsed past the garish portraits and busts designed to stroke the High Lord’s ego and found herself in yet another courtyard.
It was a stunning space, the walls wrapped in vines and climbing jasmine.
Lucius sat on a bench by the far wall, lost in thought as he gazed at one of the windows high above. He startled as she approached.
‘Gods, Nieve. Don’t creep up on people like that.’ He shook his head. ‘What’s up? I thought you’d have turned in by now.’
‘I’m not tired.’ Nieve took a seat next to Lucius as he patted the bench. ‘And neither are you, it seems. I’m surprised Sol’s let you out of his sight.’
Lucius’s features scrunched in a scowl. ‘I told him I needed a minute. He’s pissing me off with his overprotective bullshit.’
‘Huh.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t normally mind his overprotective bullshit. I rather thought you liked the attention.’ Nieve nudged him with her shoulder.
‘Yeah, but I don’t like all the grumbling he’s been doing. Rules, rules, rules. It’s all he’s going on about.’
‘Rules?’
‘Yeah. Who I can and can’t talk to. He’s got a bee in his bonnet and I’m a bit tired of listening to it.’
‘Well, that’s fair.’ Nieve shot him a half-smile and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes to enjoy the caress of the breeze. Somewhere, in the distance, an owl hooted in the dusk and the sound helped take Nieve away for a minute to the frozen mountain forests of her homeland.
‘Anyway. I should stop sulking and turn in,’ Lucius said with a grunt. ‘And you should probably do the same.’
‘I’m not sulking,’ Nieve said, eyes still closed.
‘Hmm.’
She felt Lucius’ bulk shift, and then his warm presence was gone.
Feeling soothed by the quiet and somewhat calmer, Nieve opened her eyes.
Out of interest she glanced at the window Lucius had been staring at.
A shadowed figure was moving about, getting ready for bed.
With a jolt, Nieve recognised the figure, and her suspicions were confirmed when they paused in plain view.
Ariadnne. Lucius had been staring at Ariadnne’s window.
Nieve’s calm fully dissipated, chased away again by surprise.
Why had Lucius been watching her?
An inappropriate whisper of jealousy tickled the back of her throat—did Lucius like her? Perhaps there was something between them she wasn’t aware of, they were both varanyen, after all.
Her mouth dried as Ariadnne’s silhouette passed back out of view. She wondered if she thought about their fight the way Nieve did, or whether she thought of Nieve at all.
And how offended Sol would be if she reconsidered Melixanthe’s offer?