Thirty-nine
Ariadnne
Are we going back to your wing, Miss?’ the skinny guard asked as they trailed after Ariadnne, who was setting a gruelling pace up the stairs away from the cell block.
‘You can, if you like,’ she replied stiffly. ‘I find myself no longer in need of your guidance.’
The guard’s brow rose, jaw clenching as he continued to stride along behind her. Ariadnne rolled her eyes at his obstinance.
She stopped as they emerged into the sunlight, shielding her eyes with a hand as she glanced around the parade grounds.
‘Ah,’ said the smaller guard, clearing his throat. ‘You see, I don’t think we can leave you in this part of the castle unattended…’ He trailed off as Ariadnne glared at him, swallowing as her eyes flashed.
‘Well since I currently don’t have a handler, there’s nobody to make those decisions, is there?’ she said quietly. ‘I’m happy to be my own handler for the afternoon, so run along.’
She forged on, but the guards didn’t let her go that easily. Unsurprising, really. Ariadnne sighed and proceeded to ignore them as they trailed after her.
The autumn sun beat down without mercy, the air still and stifling with barely a breeze from the ocean to provide relief. Following her instincts, Ariadnne strode across the paved grounds in the direction of the main castle, seeking the main training yard.
The corridors were inhabited by varanyen and knights alike, those who had been first on the sands and were now released for the afternoon.
Ariadnne, braids flowing and features fixed in a mask of anger, drew many curious looks as she stalked, focused solely on her destination.
Her actions were likely already being reported to the Council, and she wouldn’t have long before guards were sent to return the stray varanya to her quarters.
The training yard was busy with activity, two companies still busy with floor drills while a third flew overhead. It took no time for Ariadnne to ascertain that Lucius wasn’t among them.
The barracks, then.
There were eight large buildings off the yard. Each housed three companies while the varanyen held rooms in the castle. Ariadnne had no idea which building to check first, so made a beeline for swordmaster Garth across the sand.
‘Garth!’ she cried, grabbing his attention. She was hardly difficult to miss with the growing crowd of hangers on watching her progress. ‘I’m looking for Sol. It’s urgent.’
The swordmaster’s brows rose, rising higher still at the sight of the red-faced guards puffing behind her.
‘Ariadnne? Do the Councillors know you’re here…’ He looked around as if one would conveniently pop up to ask. The guards shook their heads, but Ariadnne cut them off.
‘Of course,’ she lied easily.
‘Okay.’ He paused, tugging his pierced ear while he assessed her face. He seemed to come to some conclusion as he nodded. ‘If you must see Sol, he’s in building six.’
Garth shook his head, but Ariadnne was already off.
The barracks loomed over her. Kayla emerging from one of the doors as Ariadnne stopped to count.
‘Ariadnne! What are you doing here?’ She eyed her entourage of guards.
‘Turn around, Kayla. It’s best you don’t see me here.’ Hurt flickered across her friend’s face and Ariadnne felt a flicker of guilt. Kayla was paler than usual, wringing her hands together as she approached. She’d probably had a lover’s quarrel with Josef but Ariadnne didn’t have time for that now.
‘Are you sure I can’t help you with something?’
‘No. Honestly, go back inside. Please.’ It wouldn’t be long before Skinny and Short summoned enough backbone to try and stop her. She ignored the way Kayla’s face dropped and turned to building six. The less people involved the better.
Lights flickered along the corridor. Ariadnne’s feet echoed off the walls, the sound only broken as she stopped at each door to peer inside. Faces she didn’t recognise looked up in shock at the intrusion, but she was gone before they could react.
Behind one door she found a vaguely familiar face from Sol’s company. Sabrine—she pulled the name from the depths of her memory. She didn’t give her a chance to speak first.
‘Where’s Sol?’
Sabrine’s eyes widened. ‘Uh… um, he’s in the big room at the end...’ she stammered. Ariadnne shut her door with a bang. With new focus she stalked to the end of the hall.
The door here was slightly different, the polished oak with gold trim marking the quarters of a handler, something Ariadnne hadn’t noticed before. She spared it no deference as she kicked it open, growling at the guards who were catching up to wait in the hallway as she marched inside.
Sol was seated at an old wooden desk examining some papers. At the sound he swivelled round, his arched brows knitting together to see Ariadnne framed in the doorway.
‘Hello, father,’ Ariadnne sneered.