Forty-four
Nieve
Nieve’s nostrils flared as she examined the rusty, speckled trail on the floor outside the jail. Blood, with a faint hint of spice. A scent Nieve would know anywhere.
Her heart thudded, the pounding filling her ears as the Shadow watched, frowning at her balled fists. Nieve didn’t care. Ariadnne had been injured and every nerve in Nieve’s body screamed at her to act. To find her.
She stalked forwards, marking each drop they passed, every red speck a new reason to kill whomever had lain a hand on her mate.
Ariadnne was alive, that much Nieve knew. The bond was still there, trembling and weak but tugging at her chest with fierce persistence. The fact that Ariadnne had been here, outside the jail, must mean she’d been trying to reach her, and something had gone horribly wrong.
Nieve’s sharp, booted feet echoed in the silent corridor as she ran through possible scenarios, each more dire than the last; Ariadnne bleeding out in her rooms. Ariadnne being tortured for trying to help her, being collared, or worse.
In contrast, the Shadow moved silently, tendrils of darkness slipping from his fingers and slithering across the flagstones.
Nieve shuddered, wondering if the rumours she’d heard about the volatile shadow-wielders were true.
He certainly looked the part with his long, tangled hair and gaunt cheeks.
Through the door ahead, the parade grounds were cast in an orange glow, dark fingers stretching across the flagstones. The Shadow’s step faltered as he crossed the threshold, and he blinked up at the sky, lines of tension melting from his face.
‘Keep to the walls,’ Nieve muttered. ‘There are guards on the battlements.’
With a smug grin, the Shadow flicked his wrist. A wave of light-bending power stretched over them, blurring and distorting until Nieve could barely make out the Shadow’s silhouette.
‘Okay. Well, that’s a neat trick.’
Nieve waved her hand in front of her face. It shimmered, but from a distance they would as good as invisible.
The Shadow grunted. ‘Which way, Iceling?’ His voice tremored as though under strain and Nieve doubted he could keep it up long.
‘Ariadnne’s been hurt. We should check her quarters.’ She pointed towards the far building, forgetting that the Shadow couldn’t see her arm.
‘Hurt?’
‘It was her blood, on the floor,’ Nieve replied tightly.
‘You could tell?’
‘Yes.’
She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t say more, following in silence as she set off across the paved yard.
The castle was uncannily quiet, the only sounds coming from the direction of the dining hall.
The occasional servant bustled past, Nieve holding her breath as she waited for a cry of alarm, but the Shadow’s illusion held steady. He was useful, after all.
She led them swiftly to the servant corridors, aiming for the passage that Sascha had shown her.
Memories of the last night she’d come this way, of Ariadnne’s body in her arms, her taste on her tongue, threatened to swallow her.
That wouldn’t be the last time they were together, Nieve wouldn’t allow it.
Crossing into the darker servant’s passages, Nieve stopped in her tracks.
‘Shadow, before we go further, I need some sort of assurance from you that you mean Ariadnne no harm.’
There was a pause, then with a sigh the Shadow released his magic. His inked face, lit by a stuttering faelight, appeared affronted by her question.
‘I would never, nor would my people, willingly harm a dragon.’
‘You make it sound like you know dragons better than someone outside the Guild should,’ Nieve replied.
The Shadow stayed silent. Nieve shook her head. ‘Fine. Keep your secrets. What’s your name?’
He stared at her for a minute before softening. ‘Liren’reith.’
Nieve’s brows rose. That was a mouthful. ‘I think I’ll call you Liren, if that works?’
He rolled his eyes but nodded.
‘I’m Nieve, by the way.’
He nodded again. ‘I think I’ll call you Iceling,’ he said with the ghost of a smile.
Nieve snorted and motioned them forwards. Liren moved his hands to cloak them, but Nieve stopped him.
‘Save your energy.’
He’d be no good if he passed out.
She found Sascha’s secret door behind the tapestry of a distant landscape. The doorframe was under a clever illusion, appearing part of the wall, but the edges were palpable beneath her fingertips. It was locked. Of course it was locked, and she poked the keyhole in frustration.
‘I don’t suppose picking locks is part of your skillset?’ she threw over her shoulder, contemplating blasting the lock with her ice.
‘As it so happens…’ Liren’s lip twitched.
He stared in begrudging admiration at the disguised door before glancing to the side. Nieve followed his eyes and saw that an old timepiece had caught his attention, displayed on a sideboard nearby. He strode over and began to dismantle the piece of art.
‘Is there a point to that?’ Nieve tapped her foot, fingers twitching to act. She didn’t have time—
‘Aha!’ Liren brandished the fruits of his labour; the long, dainty second hand and a firm spring which he was already working to straighten between practiced fingers.
‘Oh…’ Nieve watched as the Shadow inserted his makeshift lockpicks into the lock, moving them deftly. ‘You’re full of surprises.’
‘I know. Ladies first.’
He gestured to the dim corridor as the door swung open and let Nieve brush past. The passage was a straight run through the castle walls, chinks of light breaking through tiny cracks in the wall barely lighting the way. Liren sneezed.
‘Sorry, dust,’ he gasped.
‘Should be used to that after the cells.’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you.’ He chuckled quietly.
Nieve didn’t find it funny. Somewhere at the end of this corridor, Ariadnne was hurt. Unless she was wrong and she was somewhere entirely different. They needed to move faster.
A door, sealed with a bolt on this side. Nieve slid it free and winced at the metallic clang.
Quietly—so quietly—she nudged the door to reveal the library, a quick glance assuring her it was empty.
‘The varanya’s wing should be empty,’ she whispered, slinking forwards. ‘It’s for varanya only,’ she explained when Liren glanced at her.
He pursed his lips but stayed silent.
The corridor outside echoed with the tick tick tick of a tall timepiece. Nieve led them on, keeping close to the walls. In the back of her mind she wondered how long they had until the dead guards in the cells were found and the alarm was raised.
She motioned for Liren to pause at the corner before the varanya’s suite. If Ariadnne was here, there would be a guard at her door. She slowly peered around the bend.
A tall, serious guard with a chiselled jaw stood in the corridor. Nieve rejoiced inwardly—it was a good sign, but they still needed to be rid of him without raising the alarm.
She kept her back to the wall and mouthed ‘guard’ to Liren, lifting a finger to indicate there was only one. His lips tightened and he nodded, patting her shoulder to indicate she move and let him look. Shrugging, she did as he asked.
He assessed the corridor beyond, his fingers moving in a strange pattern before summoning a wisp of power. He flicked his wrist.
Nieve wasn’t sure what had happened until the guard called out, ‘Who goes there?’
With a grimace, Liren tensed and repeated the action. His efforts were rewarded by the sound of booted footsteps moving away, following whatever illusion Liren had summoned. He motioned for them to move, and together they hurried down the corridor.
They had almost reached Ariadnne’s door when the guard reappeared, rounding the corner to return to his post. His brows knitted, mouth opening to shout when Liren’s shadows were upon him, filling his throat, strangling the sound from his lungs.
Eyes bulging, he clawed at his neck. Nieve slipped behind him and wrapped an arm round his throat, holding tight as the guard struggled and gasped.
Moments later he slumped in her arms and she lowered him to the ground.
Liren’s eyes fixed on her. ‘What are you doing?’ He said, confused. ‘He will wake, end him.’
‘We don’t need to.’ Nieve looked away, reaching for the door. It was locked.
With a grunt, Liren moved behind her and Nieve glanced back to see him grip the guards head and twist, breaking his neck with a sickening crunch.
Nieve’s stomach lurched. ‘Why did you do that?’ she hissed.
‘Guild scum,’ he muttered and bared his canines. ‘Why leave him to raise the alarm?’
Nieve tightened her jaw and turned her back to him. Ariadnne, this was about Ariadnne, she reminded herself. ‘Can you open the door?’ she ground out.
‘With pleasure, Iceling,’ Liren’s voice was dangerously soft as he moved beside her. She expected him to pull out his lockpicks, but with a taunting eyebrow he reached to pull the keyring from the guard’s belt.
Nieve rolled her eyes. What an arrogant bastard.
She readied her sword as the door clicked open, and pushed it slowly, surveying the chamber beyond. Forcing Liren behind her, she crept in.
The main chamber was quiet, haunting, and a shiver ran down Nieve’s spine.
Liren paused to look at the tapestries with something like disgust on his face.
Nieve was about to ask him what his issue was when there was a sound from Ariadnne’s bedroom and they both froze.
A muffled sob. Nieve motioned for the shadow to hide behind the couch and crept forwards.
She paused at the bedroom door—someone inside was crying.
Nieve twisted the handle.