Thirty-four #3
Melixanthe shook her head. ‘He’s not like that. I appreciate your worry, though.’ She smiled warmly before her smile slipped. ‘Truth be told I’ve been a little worried myself. Arranging an accident is how the Council remove those they are displeased with. I’m no fool.’
‘We need to try and find a way to keep you safe…’ Ariadnne began, but Melixanthe quieted her with a hand gesture.
‘As I said, I’m no fool. I’ll be fine. I’ve been playing this game longer than you’ve been alive, my girl,’ she said.
‘Look. I should probably get back to the yard. The company will have arrived, and everyone will be confused. I’ll tell them you’ll be along in a bit, if that’s okay?
We will have time to talk. Later.’ She took a last look at Ariadnne, who nodded.
‘Nieve… She’s a good one. Fate chose your mate well. ’
As she rose and brushed herself off, Ariadnne swelled with warmth. So many questions burned at the tip of her tongue. Melixanthe was right though, they would have time. Later.
It took Ariadnne a while to get her thoughts ordered as she perched on the edge of the couch, staring at the door. She had a mother. A real, living and breathing mother who had been here with her for years.
She was wanted—loved. Cared for.
She rifled back through her memories, through all those firm words, gentle touches and sidelong looks that Melixanthe gave her time and time again and found herself viewing them in a whole new light. Melixanthe had been parenting her, as best she could with her hands tied behind her back.
She felt a strong urge to share this revelation with Nieve, to explain that Melixanthe wasn’t being cruel by separating the two of them. It was an act of love. Of protection. She didn’t want to see Ariadnne suffer the way she herself had. Nieve would understand.
She wrung her hands together, an unpleasant shiver trickling along her spine.
Why did Sol have to be her father? That knowledge was like a worm, burying into her gut.
Had he always hated her? She didn’t know what to think anymore—perhaps he regretted giving Melixanthe the most powerful varanyen in the Guild.
History aside, Ariadnne still couldn’t shake the fear that he was the Council’s puppet.
She rose and took a few slightly shaky steps before stopping to take a breath, needing to find her calm; it wouldn’t do to go back to the training yard an emotional mess. She felt inwardly and let her mind caress the soothing scales of her ever-present dragon.
They weren’t alone anymore.
*
Ariadnne’s company were already sweating in their armour as her feet hit the sands, Nieve spotting her immediately and halting her drill, glancing at Melixanthe with storm-laced eyes.
‘I trust you feel better?’ Melixanthe clipped, a knowing smile undermining the firm tone of her voice.
Warmth flooded Ariadnne’s chest.
‘Of course. My apologies for being late, Melixanthe.’ It was hard to keep her face neutral as questions burst into the fore of her mind like bubbles. What had Zolif been like? What had Melixanthe made of her daughter that first day as her handler? Was she truly proud of who Ariadnne had become?
‘I’ll overlook it. This once.’ There was a twinkle in Melixanthe’s eye. ‘The hour is late. Go change, we are overdue an aerial drill.’ She strode back to the others, corralling them towards the refreshments and giving Ariadnne some space.
With a deep breath, Ariadnne exploded into her scales, crouching for the harness with wings eagerly awaiting the skies. Her company approached warily, no-doubt remembering her reckless flight the day before. She’d make up for it today, she promised silently, nudging her dragon to behave.
Aloft, her lithe form undulated through elegant twists and turns, whipping through the wind with exultant joy.
The air tasted like impending rain, the humidity condensing on her eyelashes in little beads.
It tasted like freedom, like hope and new beginnings.
She soared until she could feel the fatigue of everyone on board through their unsteady stances and knew it was enough.
Two legs had never felt so stifling as she shifted back. The cooler air lifted her stray hair, and the chill caused the skin of her arms to pebble.
Her first instinct was to find Nieve. She couldn’t leave her in the dark longer than necessary when a few words might dispel some of her angst. She spotted her loitering towards the back of the group and made a beeline in her direction, barely sparing a glance for the servant thrusting a tunic at her naked form.
It was but a second to throw the garment over her head, but as she tugged it down, she heard Josef’s voice raising over the clamour, ordering the company to make lively and leave.
She barely managed to brush her hand against Nieve’s as she was drawn away by the crowd heading for the gate.
Nieve met her eyes with a long, lingering gaze, before shooting daggers at Melixanthe’s retreating back.
Ariadnne was helpless; she tried to shake her head, to tell Nieve that it wasn’t Melixanthe’s fault, but Nieve had already disappeared.