Forty
Ariadnne
Oh,’ was Sol’s response as he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Ariadnne, fingers templed at his lips.
This only served to infuriate her. Fists clenched, she strode into the room until she loomed over him, Sol’s neck craning to follow her.
‘Mel told you… did she?’ His voice caught a little on the words.
Ariadnne growled. ‘You should have tried harder to end her before she had the chance.’
His eyes widened. ‘End her? You think I killed her?’ He squeezed out his chair and backed away, putting a few feet of air between them. Ariadnne’s skin shimmered in rage, fed by the tang of his fear.
‘I would never—I can’t believe—’ Sol raised his palms. ‘How could you think that.’ His jaw fell slack and Ariadnne froze. His face was too open. Too innocent.
No. No. It had to be him. For Nieve’s sake.
‘I don’t believe you,’ she snapped, clutching at her anger.
‘Melixanthe—you hated her. You turned your back when she was stabbed at the plateau. The whole thing was probably set up by the Council.’ She lifted a lip.
‘And the poisoned arrow… you just happened to be there? I bet you accepted the Council’s proposition with open arms. What did they offer you?
Position? Power? Or a chance to prove that my sire would be the better choice to control me? ’
Sol shook his head. ‘You’ve got everything wrong. Gods alive.’ He wiped his forehead. ‘I’ve no idea what led you to believe me capable of this! Mel…’ He choked on her name. ‘Mel was a dear friend.’
This was bad. Very bad. Sol’s grief confronted her like a slap to the face, deepening the seed of doubt Nieve had planted.
Her limbs tingled unpleasantly as he continued, ‘I cared for her. Me, your handler? The very idea! No…I’d never leave Lucius—Mel was welcome to the position.
The gods only knew it wasn’t easy for her.
And the plateau…shit, I felt awful when she was injured.
All my focus in that fight was on trying to control Lucius.
His concern for your safety was making him erratic and he kept putting himself in danger. ’
Ariadnne stared, the seed sprouting into a fully formed, budding tree whose roots wound around her heart and squeezed, making it hard to breathe through the pressure in her chest.
Sol rubbed his temples hard enough to turn his fingertips white.
‘I’ve been nothing but concerned for Melixanthe’s safety.
I tried to warn her… she refused to listen.
We argued. I had concerns that someone in your company was in the Council’s pocket, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
’ He stepped forwards. ‘And hate you? Ariadnne… do you know how hard it is to have a daughter who has no idea you exist? To watch her grow and be nothing to her? Each time I looked at you was fresh agony when I knew I could never tell you who I was. I could never hate you.’
Fresh guilt shivered up Ariadnne’s spine as Sol pulled at his sleeve, fumbling for his next words.
‘I was frustrated with Melixanthe at times. She got to know you when I couldn’t. I… I was furious when she took Nieve. That knight is a rare talent—I’d hoped she would replace me one day if the need arose. But it was just that. Frustration. I would never have wished her harm.’
Sol lifted his hands and, gods save her, she believed him. There was no guilt in his eyes, no lie or snide comment to grip on to. The plug had been pulled on her anger leaving a yawning emptiness where it had been.
‘Fuck.’ She gripped her head. There wasn’t enough time to find the truth. Ten days before Nieve’s trial, or… she couldn’t think of it. She wouldn’t let Nieve die.
She backed onto a couch and slumped, shoulders trembling as nausea and grief fought for supremacy.
‘It wasn’t Nieve,’ she muttered into her hands.
‘She… she’s my mate. She wouldn’t do that to me.
’ Ariadnne’s hands dropped into her lap, and she looked at Sol, noting the lines of pain etching his eyes.
She shook her head, saying, ‘If you repeat that she’s my mate to anyone I’ll kill you. ’ But her heart wasn’t in it.
Sol raised his hands again. ‘I wouldn’t.
’ His lips curled in a wry smile. ‘When Melixanthe kept her I thought she was punishing me for overstepping. I’d complained to her about not being allowed a relationship with you.
But in reality she’d probably sensed something between you two.
’ His lips twisted. ‘She was canny like that, but not nearly careful enough.’ His shoulders dipped. ‘I miss her already.’
‘So do I.’ Ariadnne’s lips tightened. ‘But if I don’t find who killed her, Nieve will die.’ She closed her eyes. ‘You said you thought there was someone in our company who was in the Council’s pocket? Do you have any idea who?’
‘I’m afraid not, Lucius overheard some snippets between Council members that alluded as much. He came straight to me as anything that concerns you worries him immensely.’
Ariadnne snorted and Sol gave her a sideways look.
‘What?’
She grimaced. ‘Nothing. He can just be a bit much at times.’
Sol frowned. ‘Lucius?’ He sat on the bed beside her.
‘Lucius cares about you a lot, Ariadnne. But from your expression I feel you might have read that the wrong way, too.’ He threw a quick glance at Ariadnne, who raised her eyebrows, before continuing, ‘I don’t think you fully understand the loyalty the other varanyen feel towards you.
It’s built into their make-up. You are their queen, no matter how much the Council would like to prevent those bonds from forming.
’ A flicker of amusement crossed his face.
‘They don’t all want babies with you, or I’d have my work cut out as your father. ’
Ariadnne’s spine straightened. Sol’s attempt at levity was drowned by the words he’d said.
Queen? That was a rather unsettling thought.
Ariadnne’s skin tightened as she thought about the way Lucius’s eyes always followed her, as did all the varanyen.
She didn’t have time to unpack these new thoughts.
If the traitor was closer to home than she’d thought, she’d been blind to it.
The idea that someone she had trained alongside and trusted might have reported her relationship with Nieve turned her stomach—that they had then been ordered to kill Melixanthe, and when their subtle accidents failed, murdered her in cold blood, was worse.
‘I’m sorry...for all of it,’ Sol said softly.
Ariadnne ground her teeth. ‘It’s not your fault.’ She didn’t look up, she was too lost in her thoughts, but she murmured, ‘I believe you. Gods help me, I do.’
Sol’s eyes bore into the back of her neck. There would be pity in his eyes if she looked, and she would be forced to acknowledge that he actually cared. Not something she was ready to do.
With a frustrated noise she rose to her feet. ‘It seems I have a lot to consider.’ She avoided his eye. ‘I need to go. Sorry… about the door.’
He tried to step toward her again, but she couldn’t. If he touched her, she might disintegrate into parts.
She sidestepped his outreached arm and dove for the door.
To where her guards waited.
‘Can we take you back to your wing now, Miss?’ the skinny one said hopefully.
‘Fine.’
Where else could she go? She wanted to see Nieve, but the agitation on her guard’s faces said otherwise; she was pushing their tolerance. With gritted teeth and a sense of helplessness she let them take the lead.
The skinny guard left them at the doors to her wing, relieved to be resuming his post. Being responsible for a volatile female was evidently more than he’d signed up for.
Once in her rooms, Ariadnne flung herself onto her couch. Probed the new wound in her chest, part of her was pleased that Sol, as her father, wasn’t quite as terrible as she’d imagined. But it left her no closer to wringing a confession from someone.
Her company. That was her only lead. How in nine hells was she going to figure it out in time? Or was this another false lead entirely?
Outside the window, the sun sank lower in the sky, afternoon drawing into evening. The ocean crashed loudly against the rocks below, keeping Ariadnne company as she alternated between simmering anger and sorrow.
The castle bells chimed six when there was a knock at the door.
‘Go away,’ Ariadnne called out, uninterested in whoever could be visiting at this hour.
The door swung open regardless, revealing a concerned-looking Councillor Vesta and a sneering Councillor Leth. Ariadnne surveyed them with cold eyes.
She didn’t do them the honour of rising.
‘How are you feeling, young one?’ Councillor Vesta said as they seated themselves on chairs either side of her.
He wore a fatherly expression on his weathered face, his hand playing absently with his grey whiskers.
Councillor Leth, on the other hand, remained cold and detached. Ariadnne refused to look at him.
‘I’m fine.’ She forced a cool smile.
‘Good, good,’ the older fae blustered. ‘Terrible business, everything that’s happened. It must be very difficult for you.’ He glanced at Councillor Leth, who motioned with his hand for him to continue. Vesta cleared his throat.
‘Ahem, ahh, we have been deliberating the best time to discuss with you the matter of a new handler. We know that it would be valuable to help you keep a good routine, to support you through this trying time.’ His rheumy eyes watered and he looked quite uncomfortable. As well he should.
‘My old handler is barely cold, and not yet buried, and you want to discuss her replacement?’ Ariadnne’s nostrils flared in distaste.
‘We mean no disrespect to Melixanthe, or to yourself,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It’s just… structure… it might help you with your grief…’
‘You mean, you would rather I wasn’t gallivanting about the castle unsupervised. It makes you uncomfortable.’
Ariadnne was beyond tact.
‘Yes,’ Leth butted in. There was a pulsing black vein at his temple. ‘Your place is here, in these rooms where you are safe. Your presence in the castle riles up the others.’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure that’s what it is,’ she said sarcastically, thinking about the ‘bonds of loyalty’ Sol had mentioned, the very reason she was kept isolated taking on a new colour.
‘I would warn you not to stretch our goodwill, young lady.’ Leth bared his teeth. ‘We have been tolerant, given your grief. More so than I have advised. That will not last if you push the boundaries much further.’
Vesta shifted, obviously uncomfortable, and shot a pointed look at Leth, who crossed his arms. Vesta leant forwards.
‘Tomorrow we will say our final farewells to Melixanthe. She is to have a funeral befitting her status. We hope you will grace us with your presence.’ He tried to smile at her.
Ariadnne scowled back but nodded her assent.
‘Good. Perhaps after this would be a better time to discuss a new handler.’
The two Councillors rose with a mixture of false platitudes and brusque dismissal. Ariadnne eyed them warily as they made for the door. She didn’t know why they had wanted to discuss a handler with her anyway. They were hardly going to give her a choice.
*
A little later that evening, there was a timid knock at the door and Sascha peeked her head round. Ariadnne was still staring into space on the couch, but the sound of Sascha padding softly into the room with the dinner tray roused her from her stupor.
‘Is it a good time?’ Sascha said softly.
‘It doesn’t feel like any time is a good time anymore.’
Sascha took one look at her before setting the tray and wrapping her in a motherly hug.
‘Oh, Ariadnne…’ She pulled her in close.
Too close… Ariadnne hadn’t wanted to be touched—it broke the wall she was carefully crafting, and a sob rose unbidden as her dam shattered, all the tears, pain and grief bursting through.
She wept for the handler who’d always been there for her, wept for the mother she’d never fully known, and wept for Nieve, who might die if she couldn’t pull it together. Her fear cleaved at her chest.
‘I…’ she croaked between gasped breaths.
‘I don’t know how to do this without her, Sascha.
I miss her so much it hurts.’ Sascha smoothed her hair and listened.
‘They want to take Nieve from me, too.’ Ariadnne pulled away and wiped her eyes on her shoulder to clear the tears.
She wasn’t thinking about what she was saying. ‘If I lose her, it will break me.’
Sascha simply continued to stroke her hair as Ariadnne closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath.
‘You don’t believe it was her?’ Sascha said in a quiet voice.
‘I know it wasn’t,’ Ariadnne replied vehemently, trembling with emotion.
‘I believe you,’ she said simply. Ariadnne’s shoulders relaxed. Having someone on her side, someone she didn’t need to argue with or persuade… it meant more than she could say. She put her hand over Sascha’s and squeezed, trying to force a weak smile for her maid’s sake.
‘What would I do without you?’
‘You certainly wouldn’t look after yourself,’ Sascha tried to jest, then pulled the tray closer. ‘You should eat something—you need to keep your strength up for Melixanthe’s funeral tomorrow. You want to be strong for her.’
Ariadnne knew the wisdom of her words, but the idea of eating filled her with nausea.
‘Maybe later, if you leave it here.’ She looked at her maid. ‘Do you think anyone in my company could have hurt Melixanthe?’
Sascha looked startled but quickly composed herself, shaking her head.
‘I’m sorry, my love, I don’t know them well enough to know. You think it was one of them?’ She seemed surprised.
‘It’s possible. I only have nine days to figure it out.’ Ariadnne went back to staring at the floor. Sascha rose, but Ariadnne’s hand shot out and took her arm.
‘Can you stay? Please? I don’t want to be alone,’ she begged.
‘Of course.’ Sascha settled back, stroking her hair and watching over her, until Ariadnne finally fell asleep with her head on her lap.