Page 28 of Wings of Ice and Steel

They had survived.

She glanced up and caught Melixanthe pausing to ruffle Ariadnne’s spines, her eyes soft. Then the sound of celebration drew her attention away. The knights were jubilant, cheering and laughing. Kayla embraced Josef in front of everyone, and Josef planted a kiss on her forehead. They staggered away, arm in arm and Nieve’s stomach pinched, thinking of the half-kiss she’d stolen on the battlefield, twisting further as she wondered whether her growing feelings were reciprocated. She thought they were.

Hoped they were.

By the campfire, the atmosphere of the camp was electric, even the usually sombre Rook wearing a smile that split his face ear to ear. Nieve longed to join in, but Ariadnne was hurt so she turned her back on the excitement, watching as healers moved along Ariadnne’s body, identifying wounds and pulling out arrows. Melixanthe had disappeared, probably to assess the worst injuries. There would be more shot to pull free before Ariadnne could safely shift.

Nieve drifted closer to the dragon’s heaving flank, lifting a finger to trace the refracted pattern in her opalescent scales. It didn’t seem right that their company celebrated freely while Ariadnne—who had borne the brunt of the battle—suffered alone.

Her feet took her closer to where Ariadnne’s head rested on the ground, hesitating as she drew close.

What if she’d overstepped with the kiss?

She cleared her throat anyway.

‘Hey… so, we made it…’

Her words faltered as Ariadnne’s nearest eye opened. Her pupil was long, like a cats, and dilated as it focussed on Nieve, whose tongue became as thick and dry as paper.

She wanted to tell Ariadnne everything on her mind; that her dragon was exquisite, but that she needed to shift so Nieve could tell her face to face how badly she wanted her. Nieve’s breath caught. She wanted Ariadnne, so badly that the feeling constricted her chest.

A puff of frozen air caught the loose strands of her hair and her lip curled tentatively, then Ariadnne groaned, and Nieve’s smile slipped. The healers were digging.

Nieve stepped forwards to touch the smooth scales of her jaw, running her hand along the ridge of her nose until Ariadnne stilled.

‘It’ll be over soon,’ she whispered, leaning her forehead against Ariadnne’s cool cheek. She felt more than saw Ariadnne’s eye flutter closed above her, and Nieve ached that no others of her company came to stand by her the way Sol and Failion stood with Lucius.

Melixanthe must have finished her assessment of Ariadnne’s injuries, as she came into view, walking slowly along her length. Nieve withdrew her hand, taking half a step back.

‘I see you two bonded,’ Melixanthe remarked. There was a pause, and Nieve fidgeted, awkward. The corner of Melixanthe’s mouth twitched and she turned to Ariadnne. ‘Well, the last piece is nearly out. You should be free to shift any minute.’ She glanced at Nieve. ‘Since you’re here, Ariadnne likes privacy to shift. There’s a private spot behind the tents. Take these and keep an eye out for curious soldiers.’ In one hand she held a deep blue tunic with matching trousers, and the other clutched a large case. She handed both to Nieve. ‘Be quick, they’ll be preparing a feast in her honour.’ Her face softened. ‘Good work today, both of you.’ With that she turned on her heels and marched back towards the main tent.

Nieve’s eyes widened as she watched Melixanthe retreat, her mind whirling at the thought of Ariadnne shifting back. Next to her. Alone.

Her pulse thudded in her throat, her excitement at seeing Ariadnne again wound tight with nerves. She tried not to imagine Ariadnne’s bare skin as she had seen it on the battlefield. Caramel-kissed and broken with scars that mapped the violence of her life, tried not to imagine the way Ariadnne had looked at her after their lips had met, the flash of desire before she shifted—or had she imagined it?

With a bob of the throat, she turned to the dragon and forced herself to keep her face neutral as she waited for the healers to finish their macabre work.

Thirteen

Ariadnne

Ariadnne’s steps shook the earth as she thudded along beside Nieve. She had never been so self-conscious of each lumbering step; of how large she was; of how petite the knight’s body was beside her.

Eighty feet of reptilian grace and power, reduced to a knot of anxiety.

She blinked as they reached the clearing. Nieve was watching, biting her bottom lip. As if sensing Ariadnne’s hesitation she cleared her throat and turned around, politely assuming the role of bodyguard.

Wishing the ground would open up and swallow her, Ariadnne let herself fall into the change, her scales dissipating until she was wingless once more. Grounded.

Cold air caressed the part-healed wounds littering her abdomen and thighs, soothing spelled stitches as delicate goosebumps formed on her arms.

Nieve stared fixedly at the back of the tents, and Ariadnne’s eyes slid up the bloodstained armour cladding her legs, past the curve of her hip to linger on the contoured plate that lined her back.

Her mouth dried. ‘Could I have the... ah, the…’ she stammered, words tripping over each other as she became vividly aware of how bare she was. How close Nieve stood. Without turning round, Nieve held out the tunic and trousers, which Ariadnne snatched gratefully.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured and tugged them on, bending to reach for the case containing her ceremonial armour.

Nieve turned, checking Ariadnne was dressed, then her cool fingers curled around the back of Ariadnne’s wrist, stopping her.