Thirty-five
Nieve
What’s the big hurry?’ Nieve tugged her hand free of Kayla’s grasp.
She was tense, her friend having pulled her from the yard before she’d managed to exchange even a word with Ariadnne—and she was sick to her stomach with the knowledge that their time was running low.
Last night couldn’t have been a goodbye, it just couldn’t. Nieve wouldn’t accept that.
‘I wanted to tell you earlier, but you were distracted.’ Kayla apologised, averting her eyes from Nieve’s gaze.
Nieve thought she saw something flicker across her features before her lips pulled into a lop-sided smile.
‘Councillor Vesta caught me before breakfast. He wants you to attend the council rooms after training.’
Nieve’s pale skin turned paper-white. The Council must be ready to make the news official. Perhaps it was to tell her when the varan child was due to arrive. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to be part of it.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kayla frowned.
Nieve swallowed and glanced away. ‘It’s fine.’
She hadn’t told any of the company about the move yet; they had accepted her with open arms and it felt like a betrayal to be leaving so soon. In so many ways.
She forced a tight smile for Kayla’s sake. There was no point delaying the inevitable, she would hear what they had to say and maybe have a chance to argue her case.
The marble corridors were quiet as she made her way towards the great atrium.
An arched doorway flowed into a shaded courtyard.
Climbing wisteria laced the walls and arches, and the sound of trickling water filled the air from the central fountain.
Her feet crunched over the gravel. She was barely looking where she was going—so lost in her thoughts that she almost bumped right into Sol and Lucius who were stood in an alcove, heads together.
‘Oh. Sorry.’ Nieve’s eyes drifted to the way Sol’s hand rested on Lucius’ arm.
He hurriedly drew it back, frowning as he realised who had almost walked into them.
‘Gods, I’m sorry, Sol. I was in my own world,’ Nieve said awkwardly.
To her surprise, Sol didn’t look cross at the interruption. Instead, he stepped forwards.
‘Lucius, do you mind if we have a minute?’ he said to the varan over his shoulder, who nodded and stepped through the arch into the atrium to wait, though Nieve didn’t miss the lingering look he ran over his handler as he went.
Oh. Suddenly so much about their relationship made sense; Sol’s protectiveness, Lucius’ devotion, their soft looks and subtle touches. Much as she was happy for them, a bitter twinge of jealousy pricked at how easy they had it.
Sol turned to face her, palms facing upward.
‘I’d been hoping we could talk.’ His face was open, devoid of the bitterness that had filled him before.
‘I owe you an apology. Look, I’ve been a complete ass.
When you chose to leave my company, I didn’t take it gracefully—time, and Lucius, have helped me see that it was your decision to make. I miss your friendship.’
Nieve’s brows rose. She’d expected another reprimand, or a dressing down.
Not an apology. Despite knowing that the decision had been the right one, guilt still prickled in her chest at leaving Sol the way she did.
He had found her, recognised her potential and plucked her from the ranks of Lord Gastalt’s army after all.
‘I’m not sure it’s just you who needs to apologise.’ Her lips curled in a wry grin. ‘I didn’t go about it the right way, either.’
Sol let out a breath, his shoulders loosening as he gave her a half smile. ‘Well, I’ll admit it came out of the blue. But it’s air at our backs, if you’d like it to be?’
A weight fell from her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry about Failion’s nose.’
Sol chuckled. ‘I’m sure he did something to deserve it.’
‘You could say that.’
Sol looked at her, his slender lips twitching.
‘You always were a hothead.’ He leaned back against the wall.
‘Actually, I’d been hoping to speak to you about that.
Failion told me Ariadnne had been asking some odd questions, some of them about me.
Do you know what that was about?’ He glanced toward the arch to where Lucius stood, waiting.
Nieve frowned. ‘No, sorry. I only got involved when things heated. Why? What sort of questions?’
‘Nothing. Don’t worry.’ Sol looked back to her and his lips curved into a wry smile. ‘So, how is life in Ariadnne’s company?’
A blush ran up Nieve’s neck, snatches of their last night flickering through her mind. Skin on skin, Ariadnne’s breath in her ear, being wrapped in her honey and spice scent as she lost herself again and again.
Sol’s brows rose. ‘Ah.’ He looked as though he didn’t know what to make of whatever he’d seen flash across her face, his demeanour suddenly turning awkward. ‘I think I see why you were so eager to go.’
‘Sol. It’s not what you think. It’s complicated.’
‘I’m glad you’ve found somewhere you belong,’ he said, and his words sparked the sadness that had spiralled inside since Melixanthe delivered her news.
Sadness, and anger. She bit her lip, pushing the rising emotions down.
Out of the corner of her eye Nieve saw Lucius approach, checking on his handler.
‘What was she asking about, Sol?’ she asked quickly.
Ariadnne had been on edge that day, skirting questions and seeking something.
Nieve needed to know why Sol had been in her sights, had to be sure Sol wasn’t a threat to her or her handler.
Not that Nieve was feeling particularly warm to Melixanthe at that moment in time.
But Sol? Surely not.
A flicker of emotion that Nieve couldn’t read crossed Sol’s face before he looked away, pursing his lips.
‘It was nothing. I’m glad we had this chance to talk, to clear the air.
’ He forced another tight-lipped smile. ‘I really do wish you all the best.’ With that he pushed away from the wall, taking five steps to join Lucius under the arch.
‘Stay safe, Nieve.’ He raised a hand in salute, before turning to leave.
Nieve frowned after him. Maybe she needed to corner him again, press harder—when she wasn’t late—
The steps to the underkeep were richly carpeted in a deep crimson brocade.
Sconces on either side lit the stone walls with flickering light as Nieve hurried deeper into the earth.
Passages led off to either side as she reached the bottom, but she continued down the main corridor towards the double doors that led to the council chamber.
She had only been here once before; when Sol had presented her as his new recruit.
The guard didn’t say a word as he pushed the doors open and Nieve stepped through into the panelled luxury beyond. A roaring fire dominated the hearth, and before it an enormous semi-circular table boasted a seat for each of the seven councillors.
To the left, the ebony-skinned Councillor Sarlemon was deep in conversation with Councillor Reathin, while Councillors Hrothgar and Wisteard appeared bored and impatient—with heads tilted and yawns escaping their lips.
Councillor Jagen took the central position, his chest puffed with his own importance, flanked by Councillors Leth and Vesta.
All seven fell silent as Nieve entered, immediately self-conscious.
She strode to the front of the table, straightening her spine under the weight of their eyes.
‘Nieve,’ Councillor Jagen boomed. ‘Welcome. We were informed that Melixanthe has already imparted the happy news?’
‘Yes, Councillor.’ Nieve bowed her head. ‘Thank you for thinking so highly of me, but…’
‘How could we not?’ Councillor Jagen interrupted. ‘We heard that you were key in defending the wall at Monmouth Keep. Actions such as yours deserve to be rewarded.’
Nieve’s skin prickled. Leth stared at her with an uncomfortable intensity, his dark eyes piercing over his hawk-like nose.
Councillor Jagen turned to Vesta. ‘You have the details.’
‘Yes.’ Councillor Vesta turned his rheumy eyes to Nieve, his many wrinkles creasing as he spoke.
‘Yes, the varan child is to be delivered here in one week. You may have the honour of bestowing a name upon him, if you wish. He is a little older than we’d like.
Eleven, I believe. But we are sure you will rise to the challenge of indoctrinating him into our ways. ’
Nieve’s eyes widened. The very idea repulsed her. She knew shifter young could occur, almost at random, amongst the fae, and it occurred to her that this boy must have had a family who had loved him, tried to hide him from the Guild scouts—and kept him secret and safe for eleven years.
Had the Guild bought him? Or had they taken him by force? A thought ran like ice through her blood. Was his family still alive?
Was this what Melixanthe had been asked to do when she had taken Ariadnne on? Break her?
A new sense of disgust rolled through her. She wanted no part of this.
‘I thank you again for the honour, but…’
‘Yes. Yes, it will be unprecedented that a knight is brought to the rank of captain after only being with us for five years.’ Councillor Jagen interrupted.
‘You truly have been honoured to receive our general’s recommendation.
New quarters will be assigned to you tomorrow as befitting your new status, and we will be selecting a new company for you over the coming week—once the boy has settled into your care. You are dismissed.’
Nieve’s mouth opened; she was still reeling from the idea of this child being thrust at her.
Fresh hatred for Melixanthe poured in for putting her in this position, and she fought to unstick the words needed to reject this honour.
A rising sense of hopelessness washed through her as she looked from face to face. Bored indifference met her gaze.
Around her, the mahogany shelves and marble pillars pressed inward with a suffocating sense of grandeur.
Had anyone rejected such an honour before?
Would it draw more negative attention to Ariadnne?
She knew how closely they watched her. Perhaps Melixanthe had told them that they needed to be separated?
It felt like there could be repercussions to anything she said, and while she was prepared to live with the consequences, she couldn’t be sure Ariadnne wouldn’t also suffer.
With a sense of despair, she bowed her head and turned to leave.
‘Wait.’ Councillor Leth’s thin voice stopped her.
‘I almost forgot, I have a letter for you from the General. She turned to see that he had risen, his wiry form leaning over the table to proffer a letter towards her. It bore Melixanthe’s seal.
There was a glint in his eye as she turned back to take it.
Hurriedly, she took the letter and clutched it in her hand as she left the room.
She wasn’t in a good frame of mind to read anything by Melixanthe’s hand.
What could the General possibly have left to say?