Thirteen
Ariadnne
Ariadnne’s steps shook the earth as she thudded along beside Nieve. She had never been so self-conscious of each lumbering step; of how large she was; of how petite the knight’s body was beside her.
Eighty feet of reptilian grace and power, reduced to a knot of anxiety.
She blinked as they reached the clearing. Nieve was watching, biting her bottom lip. As if sensing Ariadnne’s hesitation she cleared her throat and turned around, politely assuming the role of bodyguard.
Wishing the ground would open up and swallow her, Ariadnne let herself fall into the change, her scales dissipating until she was wingless once more. Grounded.
Cold air caressed the part-healed wounds littering her abdomen and thighs, soothing spelled stitches as delicate goosebumps formed on her arms.
Nieve stared fixedly at the back of the tents, and Ariadnne’s eyes slid up the bloodstained armour cladding her legs, past the curve of her hip to linger on the contoured plate that lined her back.
Her mouth dried. ‘Could I have the... ah, the…’ she stammered, words tripping over each other as she became vividly aware of how bare she was. How close Nieve stood. Without turning round, Nieve held out the tunic and trousers, which Ariadnne snatched gratefully.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured and tugged them on, bending to reach for the case containing her ceremonial armour.
Nieve turned, checking Ariadnne was dressed, then her cool fingers curled around the back of Ariadnne’s wrist, stopping her.
‘We should talk,’ she murmured, her ice-blue eyes piercing.
Ariadnne swallowed. Nieve’s gaze raked her, stripping her bare. She didn’t want to talk. What she wanted was Nieve’s lips on hers, her body in her arms, the feel of her skin…
But that wasn’t allowed. Would never be allowed. Nieve must know that. Surely, she knew…
Hesitantly, Nieve reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind Ariadnne’s ear. Ariadnne’s dragon stirred at the touch.
Her heart galloped.
‘Umm…’ She fumbled for words. Any words. ‘You saved my life today… all our lives… I hope you realise how much I...’
Her mouth stumbled as Nieve smiled softly. The air between them was thick as molasses. Would Nieve taste sweet like that? She was so close. It would be so easy to—
Nieve’s pupils dilated and the last thread of Ariadnne’s restraint shredded.
She pressed forward, meeting Nieve’s lips and pulling her closer as Nieve kissed her back, hot and urgent.
Ariadnne cradled Nieve’s face, drinking in her taste, her scent, her softness…
she hadn’t realised how much she craved her.
How much she needed her. Her dragon uncoiled—
Nieve pulled back, the sudden distance a yawning chasm.
‘You want this?’ she panted. ‘This isn’t gratitude?’
Ariadnne’s pulse pounded with a heady mix of thrill and nerves.
‘It would be a funny way to show gratitude, don’t you think?’
Ariadnne slid her hands up Nieve’s arms, and when she didn’t resist, drew her close. A smile broke across Nieve’s face, and she reached to cup Ariadnne’s cheek.
‘You dragons play by different rules…’ she whispered, and Ariadnne’s stomach swooped as Nieve met her lips, slower and softer this time.
Ariadnne’s eyes flew open as Nieve’s tongue swept forwards, seeking hers.
Nieve smiled against her mouth, her hands finding Ariadnne’s waist, thumbs caressing the skin under the hem of her tunic.
Heat pooled in Ariadnne’s belly.
She groaned and pulled back.
‘Nieve...’ She closed her eyes. Any minute the moment would break, and they would be varanya and knight once more. She didn’t want that, not now. ‘I…’
Nieve stroked her side, and Ariadnne winced as her hand crossed the ragged bumps of her stitches.
‘Gods, I’m sorry...’ Nieve blurted, the worry in her eyes stirring another well of emotions Ariadnne wasn’t equipped to manage.
What would Melixanthe think if she saw them like this?
With a wrench, Ariadnne pulled herself away, heat rising to her face at the thought of being caught.
What would Melixanthe do? Would it get back to the Council?
They were sure to be punished. At best, Nieve would be removed from her company and Ariadnne would be collared in iron.
At worst… Ariadnne didn’t want to think.
The Council could be cruel and inventive in their discipline, as she had discovered all too often in her youth.
Nieve looked hurt at her rapid withdrawal, and Ariadnne’s words tumbled over each other as she rushed to explain.
‘I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…’ She swallowed. ‘We don’t have long before they’ll be expecting me, and Melixanthe can’t find us here. Like this.’
Nieve’s eyes scrunched, a hint of storm flecking their edges as she mentioned her handler.
‘I hate that she has this hold on you. I know what you are to the Guild, but you are also this incredibly powerful being. Surely you can make your own choices as the other varanyen do?’
‘I’m not one of the other varanyen, Nieve,’ Ariadnne retorted. ‘There’s a reason they keep me apart. This, between us, is impossible.’ She ran a hand across her brow, hating how it trembled.
‘It doesn’t have to be.’ Nieve softened. ‘Maybe it can just be what it is, Guild be damned.’
Her sureness soured in Ariadnne’s throat.
She didn’t know how to explain—Nieve had choice.
She could seize what she wanted. If she got bored of the Guild she could leave.
Ariadnne had never had choice. She fought who the Guild wanted her to fight, dressed how they wanted her to dress, and wanted what she was told to want. That was her life.
Nieve deserved more.
‘I won’t be allowed this—you. When we return. I don’t know what the Council would do…’
‘So, we don’t tell them.’ Nieve’s brow arched in a way that made Ariadnne’s pulse thrum.
‘Ariadnne.’ She reached for her hands. ‘I’m not going to apologise for how I feel, and I think, no—after that kiss I know you feel the same.
I don’t know what will happen, but I can tell you I want to find out.
Nothing that’s worthwhile is easy, and I’ve never chosen the easy path.
I don’t intend to start now. I’d like to see where this goes. If you want the same?’
Ariadnne didn’t know what to say. Of course she wanted that… she had half expected Nieve to run once there was a hurdle. The fact that she hadn’t made her feel… stronger.
The memory of Nieve’s lips shivered across Ariadnne’s skin, and she took a step closer, the pull between them too great to fight. She didn’t want to fight it.
A roar from the crowd on the other side of the tents brought her awareness back with a rush. The green fabric of the tent snapped in the breeze, the case of armour lying forgotten at their feet.
‘The company. They’re waiting…’ Ariadnne looked up apologetically.
Nieve ran a hand through her hair. ‘The company. Yes, of course.’
‘I…I don’t want the easy path, either,’ Ariadnne said tentatively, and Nieve’s face broke into a brilliant smile.
‘Then let’s get you into your armour. We’ll play nice for our hosts. It’ll be busy at the dinner. Everyone will be a little tipsy—I’m sure I can steal a moment with you. It would be good to…talk.’
Now Ariadnne’s lips curved. ‘Talk?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that was what choosing the harder path entailed…’
With a laugh Nieve gave her arm a gentle shove and, reluctantly, Ariadnne crouched to unclasp the case and set out the silver pieces within.
It was time to dress as befitted the Guild’s prize possession.
The armour itself was impractical, designed purely to make her look impressive. Ariadnne slid the breastplate with its gilded dragon’s head over her tunic, grimacing as it pressed on the more tender stitches, and reached for a pauldron.
‘I can help.’ Nieve took it from her and fitted it to her shoulder. She continued piece by piece, soft fingers fastening the buckles and straps that held each part in place.
Ariadnne studied her; the way her forehead crinkled slightly as she concentrated, and the way her silver hair slipped out of her braids into her eyes—which were beautifully slanted in the way of the Miridaelean fae.
‘You’re from the Miradael mountains?’ Ariadnne asked to distract herself from the ache born from Nieve’s proximity and the gentle touch of her fingers.
‘I was, but I left a long time ago.’ Nieve glanced up as she replied.
‘Headhunted for Gastalt’s army?’
‘No.’ Nieve’s smile turned bitter. ‘I was a latecomer to soldiering. I had a few rough years before I stumbled into his ranks.’ She smiled sadly. ‘My village… it was destroyed many years ago. The raiders responsible only spared the girls who were useful for their… entertainment.’
Horror speared through her. The Miradaelean massacre. Ariadnne had learned of it in her lessons; bandits had drugged the capital town’s water supply and moved in while they were defenceless. So many dead—including the Lord of Miradael and his entire family. Nieve had lived through that.
Nieve continued without looking at her, concentrating on the buckles and fastenings.
‘They kept us drugged to keep our magic weak, but eventually I got my hands on a sword and disembowelled every last one of the bastards,’ she said this in a matter-of-fact way.
Ariadnne was sure it hid a well of grief and pain. She took Nieve’s hand to still her.
‘If you hadn’t, I would gut them now—as I would any who hurt you,’ she promised.
‘I know you would.’ Nieve flashed her a curved smile and pulled her hand free to fasten the last greave in place before stepping back.
‘Don’t dwell on it. I’ve made my peace with the past.’ She tilted her head and appraised the effect of the armour, giving Ariadnne a low whistle.
‘You look like a living legend,’ she said appreciatively.
‘That’s what they’re going for,’ Ariadnne grimaced. ‘It helps the lords feel like they got their money’s worth.’
Nieve shook her head. ‘I don’t think they’d doubt that, seeing as you carried the battle for them, and they only needed to pay for three dragons.
’ She gently touched the side of Ariadnne’s face, and Ariadnne struggled to wrench her eyes from her mouth as she stepped back.
Gods, why was she filled with the primal need to claim that mouth?
She blamed her volatile dragon hormones.
Nieve continued, oblivious to Ariadnne’s struggle. ‘Since we’re getting to know each other, where are you from, you know, pre-Guild?’
Ariadnne blinked and tried to bring her mind back from imagining Nieve pressed against the floor beneath her. She cleared her throat.
‘I don’t know. My earliest memories are with the Guild. They said my parents handed me over willingly once they knew what I was but...’ she said with a shrug. ‘Who knows.’
A strange emotion flitted across Nieve’s face before she controlled it, giving Ariadnne a small smile. ‘Maybe that’s easier?’
The crowd nearby cheered and Ariadnne imagined it was Lucius and Regulus emerging in their ceremonial costumes.
‘We should go,’ Ariadnne said and took Nieve’s hand, interlacing their fingers briefly.
It was surreal how Nieve had stumbled into her path, and yet it felt right, as though a new chapter was beginning, but she couldn’t shake the worry, deep inside, that the book might burn before she could finish the story.