Forty-three
Nieve
The cell walls pressed close. Six steps by eight. Six by eight. Always the same. A shuddered breath rasped past Nieve’s teeth, anxiety swirling and tangling in her throat. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
Rancid air mingled with the sheen of perspiration clinging to Nieve’s forehead, sweat dripping in slow procession down the back of her neck.
Grime and filth adorned every inch of her body, the only break in the dirty sheen the scrapes of clean flesh inflicted by her own nails as she fumed at her impotence.
There was nothing she could do. Nothing. She had no idea what was happening outside of the prison walls and the silence was deafening.
A pile of damp straw and a leaky bucket for waste; these were the comforts she was permitted.
They barely registered as an onslaught of emotions threatened to rip Nieve’s legs from under her; an overwhelming cacophony of grief and fiery rage that built and built until, just now, it had been snuffed out.
Flashes of Rosa’s bloodied, broken body broke through Nieve’s terror.
She couldn’t lose someone else.
Her hands clawed at her chest, trying to reach the dull point of pain that their bond had reduced to. She had nothing but the faintest sense that Ariadnne was alive—a quiet, lingering pulse.
Six by eight. Still six by eight.
Ariadnne couldn’t be hurt; she was a force of nature, the guiding star to her night sky. Nieve needed her.
Crystals of ice formed at her fingertips, a spiderweb of cold that zig-zagged across her palms, spreading like frozen vines up her arms. Power shimmered in the air, brimming with promise, yet futile against the wards lining her cell.
To think she was heiress of Miradael—more powerful that even her father.
What was the point of such power, now? With a scream of frustration, Nieve fired a sheet of ice at the door.
The wards merely flashed as the magic sizzled out.
Another blast, and another; the magic leaving a tang in her nostrils as she poured her soul into the release. It came so easily, too easily, the cell becoming a deadly storm of ice and snow—her mounting fury incarnate.
The flagstones cracked as the temperature dropped, ice forming on Nieve’s eyelashes and dusting her skin until it gleamed.
It felt horribly good to burn so much power, as though the world should bend to her will, but the wards held, even if they glowed with the strain of containing her power.
Nieve’s anger flared white-hot, her magic sparking and becoming something else for part of a heartbeat: a blinding, burning flame, hot enough that it burnt her fingers.
With a gasp she relinquished her magic, cradling her hand with a frown.
That was new.
‘Going all renegade magic user hasn’t worked for me yet, either.’ A low and heavily accented voice chuckled, its syllables creaky and stiff with disuse. ‘It was an impressive attempt, nonetheless. I can smell your magic from here.’
Nieve stiffened, her ears pricking. There was a soft sound as the other prisoner moved in his cell.
‘I can’t see you bothering to try and escape,’ she rasped, her voice as icy as her magic.
‘I’ve too much of a headache from all your screaming and pounding to even think about escape.’ The prisoner sounded amused. ‘You shook the walls well enough to catch my attention.’
‘I have to get out.’ Nieve closed her eyes, leaning her head on the door.
‘We all have to get out, Iceling. Believe me, I’ve tried. The wards are strong.’
‘There must be a way.’
The prisoner shifted, slow feet padding towards the bars. There was a soft, metallic sound as though he’d gripped them in his hands.
‘I need to get out, too… I’m getting weak.
The guards, they speak of you. They called you ‘formidable’.
’ He paused, as though considering. ‘I don’t know what you’ve done to land yourself here, but I’m guessing you hold as much love for the Guild as I do…
I think there’s an opportunity if you are as quick as I hope—if we work together. ’
He sounded exhausted from the effort of speaking. Nieve wasn’t sure he had the capacity to help.
‘Go on…’ she muttered.
He sucked in a breath. ‘I need a promise from you first, a bargain.’
That woke Nieve up.
‘A bargain?’
‘Bound in runes. That way we can both trust we won’t be stabbed in the back.’
She released a low hiss.
‘It appears I’m out of options,’ she muttered, angry with herself for even considering it. ‘What is it, exactly, that you want from me?’
‘I need a promise that if you succeed in getting out you will help me return to my people.’
Nieve fell silent. Assuming they got out, she and Ariadnne would be fleeing the Guild. Perhaps she could get something in return.
‘If I help you get out, and I’ve made no promises yet, I want you to first help me find Ariadnne. She comes too. No Ariadnne, no bargain.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘If we successfully return you to your people, you will do everything in your power to hide us from the Guild.’
‘Ariadnne?’ the prisoner’s voice questioned. ‘She is the female dragon, yes? The varanya?’
‘She is.’
The voice paused, then asked, slower, ‘And what is she to you?’
‘Important,’ Nieve spat back. He didn’t need to know the details.
‘Then yes, I agree to your terms.’
Nieve’s eyes widened at how easily he accepted her proposal. Finding and rescuing Ariadnne would reduce both their odds of escaping unscathed. She wasn’t sure whether she should be grateful for his quick agreement, or concerned.
Ultimately, she needed to get out of her cell, whatever his motives. She swallowed.
‘And I agree to yours.’
She hoped she wasn’t making a grave mistake.
‘Very well.’
The other prisoner’s voice took on a deep timbre as he began speaking Illiruthian, the archaic language of runes. He was talented, and the sealing words settled on Nieve in a fleeting blanket of warmth, testing her willingness before dissipating in a faint shimmer of blue. The deal was done.
‘So… what’s your big plan?’ she asked to distract herself from the peculiar tingling in her arms. She thought she could hear the prisoner slump back to the floor.
‘Well, I believe I can offer you a chance—but it will be up to you to take it.’ He paused as though collecting his thoughts. ‘As you are aware, each time they bring our meals they lower the wards to open the door.’
‘Yes, and the second guard has an arrow aimed at our throats the entire time in case we twitch,’ Nieve retorted, unsure where he was going with his idea.
‘Though their lack of care makes it seem unlikely, I hold a lot of value to the Guild. My death would be… unfortunate for them. If I were to, say, have a seizure from lack of nutrition right at that crucial moment when they had lowered your wards, I dare say the guards would find it distracting. You would have a few seconds grace, but if you are as good as your reputation that might be enough.’
Nieve thought about it. ‘It will have to be enough,’ she said quietly. By her reckoning, dinner should be served within the hour. She would be ready.
*
Nieve kept her shoulders slumped as the guards stopped at the other prisoner’s cell with his meal.
The taller of the two uttered some words and touched an engraved stone on his bracelet to release the wards, while the shorter guard with the bow barked a command for the prisoner to get to the back of his cell.
The first opened the door enough to slide the tray through with his foot before slamming it shut.
Nieve readied herself. Her window would be tiny, but she didn’t have time for nerves. The guards were coming.
At the command to get back, she moved to the middle of the cell, hands raised, positioning herself slightly off centre so she was half a second closer to the door.
The first guard lowered the wards, and the door creaked open.
A bang echoed down the corridor, followed by an almighty gurgling screech. Without thinking, Nieve darted forwards.
She made it to the door in half a second. The first guard was turning back, but Nieve grabbed the arrow from his bow and, spinning on her heel, used her momentum to drive it into his companion’s chest. The guard’s face registered a look of pure horror as he crumpled to the floor.
The remaining guard scrabbled for another arrow. Before he could draw, Nieve flung a spear of ice—taking him through the throat.
Adrenaline pounded through her; it had all taken seconds.
Guilt tore through her as she scrabbled at the tall guard’s limp wrist to free the bracelet she needed to lower the other prisoner’s wards.
Bloodied and sticky it slid off his wrist and she stumbled along the row of cells, shock flooding her system as her gaze landed on the other prisoner’s inked face.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You promised to release me,’ he reminded her.
‘Your face… your people attacked our camp, killed one of Ariadnne’s company.’ She hesitated, and he looked confused.
‘Are you sure? My people would never harm a dragon. If it was them, there must have been good reason.’
‘Oh, they definitely had faces like yours. What do you mean you’d never harm a dragon?’
‘Not important.’ He was right at the bars now. ‘Are you going to let me out or are you going to risk the wrath of the gods by ignoring our bargain?’
Nieve cursed. She didn’t really have a choice; she’d tied herself to him now. She quickly muttered the words the guards had used and touched the stone, holding her breath as the wards flickered out of existence.
‘The key…’ she muttered and bent to search the bodies of the guards.
Fingers clenching around the thin metal, she rose and slid it into the lock, wondering who she was releasing into the world.
As the emaciated prisoner stepped free of the cell, a tendril of darkness swooped round him, Nieve’s skin prickling as the wave of power swept past her.
The prisoner grinned as he drew it back into his body.
‘That’s better.’ He inhaled deeply, as though he had spent a lifetime without the taste of air.
Nieve raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re a Shadow?’
She’d never met one, given how rare they were outside of Braem. Supposedly masters of darkness, they manipulated the very absence of energy. Worn as he was, power clung to the prisoner like vines on a wall.
He nodded. ‘My powers are weak, thanks to that cell, but I should be able to help us move unseen, for a time.’
Nieve exhaled. Their odds had just risen tenfold. She fastened on one of the guard’s belts and sheathed the sword.
‘Let’s go.’
The Shadow gestured for her to lead the way. ‘My shadows might conceal from a distance, but anyone who passes close will see through the glamour,’ he explained as they walked.
‘In that case let me deal with the guard at the door,’ Nieve said. ‘It’ll be easier for you to hide us once we are out of the jail.’
Nieve fingered the keys she had stolen and moved silently to crouch behind the door.
The thick iron muffled all sound of the guard on the other side, poised to alert every guard in the vicinity if she wasn’t swift.
She nudged the Shadow back, the scrape of metal too loud as the key slid home, tumblers releasing with a soft click.
They paused, listening for movement. When silence reigned, they breathed.
Nieve mimed counting to three on her fingers and the Shadow crouched against the wall.
She counted silently then heaved her weight into the door.
The heavy iron moved slower than she liked but it was still enough to surprise the guard and knock him off his stool.
His eyes widened as she bore down on him, sword drawn, and he scrambled back with a cry of alarm.
In seconds, darkness spilled from the Shadow, flooding his throat and muffling his cries. Nieve him swiftly while behind her, the prisoner staggered.
‘You okay?’ she asked as he massaged his temples.
‘I will be, let’s go.’
Ahead of them the spiral stair loomed. All that remained was to find Ariadnne in the nest of knights and guards above and pray that she was whole enough to escape.