Page 103 of Wings of Ice and Steel

He staggered, snarling, ‘I’m trying to help.’ Shadows danced in his eyes. ‘I don’t know why you look so horrified, Iceling. This is the Guild that decimated an entire race, sparing only those they could enslave, turning a proud race into whipped dogs.’

‘What are you talking about?’

His face shuttered again, trying to step forward, but Nieve blocked his path, struggling to trust that he wouldn’t harm her mate. Without another word he pulled out his makeshift lockpicks and held them out, pointing them towards the collar.

Oh.

A tiny bit of red retreated from Nieve’s vision, and she relented enough to allow Liren access to the collar. With deft fingers, he slid the picks into the mechanism and it clicked. Relief flooded Nieve’s chest, turning to disgust as the collar fell away revealing the hideous red welts in all their glory. Barbaric.

Liren’s shoulder jammed into Nieve’s sternum. ‘Give me space,’ he grunted. ‘Like I said, I can help.’

Nieve frowned, indignant. She wanted to punch him. Wanted to scream. A small line appeared between his brows as he lifted Ariadnne’s eyelids to examine her irises and she watched him like a hawk as he proceeded to check her pulse.

‘Hmm,’ he said non-committally and moved his attention to Ariadnne’s leg, glancing at Nieve as if for permission before shimmying Ariadnne’s dress up and unwinding the bandage.

‘What does ‘Hmm’ mean?’

Liren didn’t answer, focussing solely on his task. Nieve clenched her jaw, hand shooting up to cover her mouth as the wound was uncovered.

It wasn’t healing, the tissues a putrid purple with deep crimson streaks spreading across her leg in an angry lattice that disappeared under the hem of her dress.

‘What did that?’ Nieve hissed. ‘Ariadnne usually heals fast…’

Liren’s replied, soft and low, ‘A poison, if I had to guess. Dragonsbane, most likely.’ He shook his head. ‘That they would do this to one of their own…’

Nieve went cold. ‘Can you help her?’ she whispered.

Liren smiled wrily. ‘Fortunately, I’ve studied the runes.’ He looked at her. ‘This isn’t pretty, though. It will take a lot, and even then, most will be up to her.’ He tutted under his breath.

‘But will she be okay?’ Nieve sat, carefully stroking the hair from Ariadnne’s face. The slackness of sleep had smoothed the worry line that so often crinkled her mate’s brow. Nieve ran two fingers across the soft skin of her forehead where it usually sat, a breath caught in her throat.

‘As I said, most will be up to her,’ Liren said. ‘I can draw out some of the poison, but I will need something to pack the wound, as even if I manage to draw it successfully, it will be beyond my ability to heal completely. The tissues are too damaged.’

Sascha rose, eyes wide and scared. ‘What do you need?’ she offered, and Nieve gripped her arm in thanks.

‘Calendula or slippery elm bark, if you have them, and some thread.’

‘Right.’ She nodded, infused with purpose.

‘Be quick, Sascha. It won’t be long until they notice we’re missing.’

Sascha nodded and disappeared quickly from the room.

Liren met Nieve’s eyes, lip twisting. ‘This won’t be pleasant.’

Nieve took Ariadnne’s hand and offered a prayer to Dianea, begging for the deity to give Ariadnne the strength for what lay ahead. The strength to endure, and to fight for their freedom.

She closed her eyes.

Forty-six

Ariadnne

Drifting through blissful nothingness, Ariadnne had the vague sense that something had been wrong. There had been a struggle—but now she was released of all pain. It might have been death, but if it was, it wasn’t unpleasant. The thought came through treacle, blurring pleasantly at the edges.

There were voices nearby. She thought she recognised one of them. Whoever it belonged to had mattered to her, she was sure of it.

It was a beautiful voice.