Twenty #2
Fatigue clung to Ariadnne’s limbs from the battle, exacerbated by two days of travel.
A mild tremor told her that already the last dose of antidote she’d taken was starting to wear off, probably burnt away by adrenaline.
She’d have a few days, maybe a week, before her symptoms got bad.
She’d have to remember to tell Melixanthe…
Reaching the far side of the yard, she glared at her guard, daring him to stop her from scrambling up the rocks marking the edge of the cliff, seeking her favourite spot.
The view from the top was worth the climb. On a clear day she could make out distant islands as she picked tufts of grass, flicking the blades into the wind as though they could carry a message across the ocean.
One of her favourite pastimes was imagining Councillor Leth’s face as she wrung the secret of the antidote from his throat.
Of course, then the rest of the Guild would be ordered to bring her down, so she’d have to find somewhere even further than those islands to hide.
Somewhere the Council’s agents couldn’t find her.
Somewhere she could fly. Free.
It was a nice dream but in reality stealing even an hours unfettered flight wasn’t worth the risk.
It had taken too long to earn the freedoms she was allowed—such as her once-a-month trip into Ullieve town—to risk jeopardising that with a jaunt.
It had taken years for Melixanthe to persuade the Council that they could relax their leash.
That she wouldn’t flee or make a scene, or shift.
That was the first thing the Council beat into all their shifters—they were only to wear their dragon skins at permitted times; a rule Ariadnne had never been good at following.
Prior to Melixanthe, she’d spent much of her life collared.
With time on her hands, Ariadnne conjured bittersweet images of the life she would choose. A cottage, perhaps, nestled in the foothills of a rugged mountain range, surrounded by wild forest. She’d be self-sufficient, of course, and take daily hikes to watch the sunrise.
She inhaled slowly—maybe Nieve would be with her, and as the sun rose, the golden light would fall onto her upturned face and—
‘You look bored,’ Melixanthe’s voice interrupted her daydream. Ariadnne’s head jerked, spotting the general striding across the sand, shielding her eyes from the sun. So much for the time on her hands.
With a sigh, Ariadnne slid off her rock. ‘I’d choose the word ‘Idyl’ rather than bored...’
‘Hmm. Let’s remedy that, shall we?’ Melixanthe turned and marched towards the weapons rack along the far wall.
Ariadnne rolled her neck, grabbing the sword Melixanthe threw her and following her onto the dirt. They were well matched, Melixanthe’s shoulder making her movement stiff, while Ariadnne was slow from the fatigue searing her muscles.
‘How was the meeting?’ Ariadnne probed, punctuating the question with a jab to the gut.
Melixanthe grunted, parrying the blow. ‘Fine.’
Ariadnne ducked. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’
Melixanthe stayed silent, a bead of sweat peeling down her brow. There was a look in her eye Ariadnne recognised, one she wore when she wasn’t ready to talk.
‘Bloody Leth,’ Ariadnne muttered, and was rewarded with the tiniest smile.
The afternoon stretched on, a fresh bruise blossoming on Melixanthe’s cheek from the butt of Ariadnne’s sword, while Ariadnne sported new bruises of her own from the flat of Melixanthe’s. Eventually, they called a truce.
‘My shoulder’s done.’ Melixanthe grimaced.
‘I’m not surprised.’
Ariadnne watched as her handler rotated her arm. She could tell her it was her fault for wanting to spar, but Melixanthe had needed it.
‘Do you need a healer?’
‘I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse, but I don’t heal as quickly as I did fifty years ago.’ Melixanthe frowned at the thought. ‘Shall we head back?’
Ariadnne fell into step, trailing her handler across the dusty ground into the castle.
‘Want to talk about the meeting yet?’ she asked.
Melixanthe’s jaw tightened. ‘You can probably guess how most of it went. They weren’t pleased.’
‘It was a freak accident.’
‘Still, you are this generation’s varanya. They expect to keep you a few hundred years longer, at least.’
‘Gods.’ The curse slipped out at the thought of a few hundred years in her rooms and Melixanthe shot her a look.
‘I know you’re frustrated, Ari. You’re not yourself. But you will settle back into it. You always do.’
Ariadnne didn’t reply.
They passed the dining room and Melixanthe continued, ‘I informed them of the size of the army the humans had mustered. They were understandably concerned as to why.’
‘Perhaps if you all tried asking, instead of jumping to slaughter, we’d know more,’ Ariadnne mumbled.
Melixanthe sighed. ‘Please don’t take whatever this is out on me, Ari. I know you disliked our last orders, and you think I can be harsh, but everything I do is to keep you safe.’
Ariadnne blinked. ‘I’m sorry… you’re right.’ Undoubtedly the Council had given her a hard time at the debriefing. She didn’t need Ariadnne doing the same.
Before they reached the door to Ariadnne’s chambers, Melixanthe stopped.
‘I know you won’t like it, but one thing did come out of the meeting. The Council are discussing formations again. They think it will keep you safer.’
‘What?’ Ariadnne tensed. Formations were archaic, an old form of fighting where dragons flew as a unit, the most vulnerable in the centre. To Ariadnne, flying amid a pack of males spelled disaster, and she’d fought every previous mention.
‘They would rather a firedrake take a spear than you, Ariadnne. I’m not sure they will give you any choice but to trial it now.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Ariadnne started, but Melixanthe raised a hand.
‘Please don’t cause trouble over this. It honestly wouldn’t be worth it. If it doesn’t work in training then fine, it proves you right, but don’t sabotage it intentionally.’
Ariadnne rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. The training will speak for itself.’ She flashed Melixanthe a predatory grin.
Melixanthe raised her eyebrows in warning, but Ariadnne could see her heart wasn’t truly in it.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Just… best behaviour tomorrow. Don’t let yourself get distracted in training by any new knights...’ She flattened her lips and Ariadnne nodded quickly.
‘I’ll work on putting off the formation training until you’re settled back in.’ Melixanthe gave her a last look before marching back down the corridor, leaving Ariadnne shivering and alone with her guard.
Her handler’s eyes would be on her tomorrow, her warning ringing in Ariadnne’s ears: Nieve would be gone if Melixanthe thought she was a problem.
Ariadnne swallowed. If she’d thought formation training would be hard, then tomorrow—playing indifferent to Nieve—might prove harder still.