Twenty-five #2
Two healers gently pushed Ariadnne aside to bustle around the general, one examining the arrow, the other talking to Josef in low tones.
Ariadnne rose to give them room and a servant darted up with a robe, faltering at the sight of the arrow in her back.
Ariadnne rolled her eyes and grabbed the robe, wrapping it around her like a towel and grimacing as the movement sent a stabbing pain down her arm.
‘What in nine hells happened?’ she growled towards Nieve, who had stopped pacing behind her. ‘What did you do?’
‘What do you mean, what did I do?’ Nieve snapped back, eyes flashing.
Heads turned their way, curious, and Ariadnne’s nostrils flared.
‘Let take this over there.’ She nodded towards the side of the tent, marching off without checking Nieve followed.
When she spun on her heel, Nieve ground to a halt, rolling her shoulders.
‘How dare you accuse me.’ She stuck out her jaw. ‘I tried to shield her, for gods sake. I was too slow and I’m sorry for that, but I didn’t intend to harm her.’
Her body remained firm, defying Ariadnne to accuse her again. Ariadnne wanted to believe her. She did, but her dragon was roaring for vengeance and didn’t know where to aim.
‘Who fired the arrow, then?’ Her voice sounded petty.
Nieve’s hands balled into fists. ‘I don’t know. It was probably an accident.’
‘Oh, I’m sure.’
‘What does that mean?’ Nieve let out an exasperated breath and Ariadnne flushed. She wished her dragon would stop screaming for blood and death inside her skull so she could think clearly.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what to think—’ she trailed off. It was true. There was no knight on the team idiotic enough to fire such a bad shot by accident, not after Ariadnne had already been hit…
Nieve’s jaw unclenched and she tilted her head. Ariadnne looked away from the softening look in her eyes, her head too crowded to interpret it. She was beginning to feel embarrassed—though she wouldn’t admit it.
Instead, she twisted her neck to watch the firedrakes land. Sol leapt from Lucius’ back and, to her shock, came striding over.
‘Are you alright? Were you harmed?’ His eyes roamed her body, causing her to pull the robe tighter. His brow furrowed as he caught sight of the arrow shaft buried in her shoulder.
‘It’s nothing.’ Ariadnne deflected quickly. ‘It was Melixanthe who was injured.’ Sol’s eyes flicked to where Melixanthe lay and his expression hardened, becoming more difficult to read. He looked back at Ariadnne, stepping back as he noticed Nieve at her side.
‘Nieve.’ He greeted her with a polite, if somewhat stiff, nod.
‘You should get that seen to.’ He gestured towards Ariadnne’s shoulder and seemed about to say more before thinking better of it and pursing his lips.
He spun on his heel and marched over to where the healers gathered around Melixanthe.
Ariadnne barely knew what to make of the interaction, and why he cared if she’d been injured.
Unless it was because she hadn’t been the target.
Perhaps Melixanthe’s injury wasn’t an accident.
Rage took hold again, but behind her Nieve let out a low gasp as she noticed the arrow embedded in her shoulder, face clouding in concern. The expression soothed Ariadnne. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
‘You didn’t tell me you’d been hurt,’ Nieve said softly, moving in closer to look at the shaft.
‘I’ll be fine. It’s one arrow.’ Ariadnne grimaced as Nieve’s breath fluttered across her bare skin, trying to ignore the shiver it sent down her spine.
‘I can’t reach it... the arrow. Could you?’ She twisted her shoulder towards Nieve. ‘Melixanthe needs the healers more than I do.’
Nieve’s cool hand ran lightly along her bare shoulder.
Inside, her dragon settled.
‘Brace yourself. It’s not deep.’ Nieve warned before grasping the shaft and giving a swift tug.
Blinding agony flashed through Ariadnne’s shoulder, and she fought the urge to cry out as Nieve pressed a hand to the wound to stem the trickling blood.
Ariadnne swayed, conscious of Nieve stroking her side to soothe the pain.
Inside, her dragon rumbled; a strange, high-pitched sound that was almost like… purring?
Ariadnne swallowed.
There were still things she wanted to know.
‘You really didn’t see where the arrow came from?’
‘No.’
Ariadnne caught Nieve’s lips tightening in the corner of her vision.
‘You tried to shield her?’
‘I did.’
Melixanthe’s cry as her arrow was pulled free caused Ariadnne’s attention to snap back. She gave Nieve’s hand a grateful squeeze, holding it longer than necessary, before returning to Melixanthe’s side, shrugging her robe back on as she went. Sol, at least, had returned to Lucius.
Melixanthe’s smile was strained, her hand pressed to the hole in her abdomen as a crimson stain spread from under her palm. She was so pale, too pale, but her gaze held steady as Ariadnne approached.
‘Don’t worry so much, Ari. I’ve had worse.’
Sol glanced between them and slunk off; Ariadnne barely spared him a glance.
‘This shouldn’t have happened,’ she protested. ‘If it wasn’t for this idiotic exercise… I’m not doing it. I’m not working with those males—’
A firm voice halted her in her tracks.
‘Yes. You will.’
Councillor Leth’s pointed frame stepped out of the marquee, where he had been overseeing their training.
Shit.
He sneered, his voice dry and emotionless.
‘You will do as we command. If we tell you to fight in a group, you will. If we tell you to charge into the mouth of a canon, you will. If we tell you to couple with a male, you will do that too. You belong to the Guild.’ His gaze flicked to Nieve, then Melixanthe, arched brows drawing together in a frown.
‘You, Ariadnne, need reminding of who and what you are. And who you belong to.’
Ariadnne’s mouth dropped. It was one thing to know she was Guild property, to do with as they willed. But to hear it so bluntly? And with such venom? The shock stole her breath. She’d never willingly couple with a varan…
Melixanthe closed her eyes, lips tight and afraid, while Nieve’s usually pale features turned a glacial white. Ariadnne’s fists clenched, her dragon rising—
She was saved as Melixanthe strained, heaving herself to her feet. Ariadnne darted to her side, instantly worried.
‘I expect we will need a thorough debrief after today.’ Melixanthe said through gritted teeth, distracting Leth for Ariadnne’s benefit.
Flightmaster Ronin, who had drifted closer—the nosy bastard—made an affirmative sound.
‘Absolutely. The varanyen need to cool off, anyway.’ He gave Ariadnne a sideways look. ‘I can already think of a few ways we could improve on their performance next time.’
Ariadnne fumed further at his comment, her dragon giving her skin a pearlescent shimmer.
Oblivious to his impending demise, the Flightmaster continued, ‘Let’s gather in my offices. We can get you a seat, Melixanthe, after your injury.’
Melixanthe nodded. ‘Let me take my ward back to her wing and I’ll be there shortly.’ She turned, wobbling slightly as she took Ariadnne by the arm until Nieve stepped forward, saluting with a fist to her chest.
‘General,’ she started. ‘Allow me to escort Ariadnne. To give you a chance to recover.’
The offer put Melixanthe on the spot. The General could hardly refuse such a sensible request in front of her superiors when she was wounded. Not without it appearing suspicious, no matter how much she wanted to limit their contact.
‘That’s very… kind of you.’ Melixanthe tried to smile graciously but it came out as a grimace of pain. Nieve bowed and turned to Ariadnne.
‘It’s this way…’ She turned towards the stone archway and Ariadnne caught the flicker of a frown before she was marching across the sand.