Page 3 of Wings of Ice and Steel

‘I hope you don’t mind if I talk business, General.’

‘Of course.’

Ariadnne’s ears perked, curious about the war she’d been hired to fight.

‘Humans,’ Lord D’avant spat. ‘Can you believe they had the audacity to beg us for entry? A human hasn’t set foot on this soil for a hundred years, and I don’t intend for them to start now.’

Melixanthe frowned. ‘I wasn’t aware they had asked—’

‘An excuse to start a war, that’s all it was.’ D’avant sneered. ‘If they want one, so be it. From the last report, their forces are gathered and marching south...’

‘Ah.’ Melixanthe nodded sagely. ‘A few hours rest is all we need…’

D’avant shook his head. ‘No. No, we’ve got time. They are still days from the wall, and we would be wise not to venture too far into their lands. The rumours…’

‘Are surely just rumours.’ Melixanthe pursed her lips, glancing at Ariadnne. ‘As you said, probably an excuse to start a war. Half a day is all we need. My knights are used to waiting on battlefields.’

‘I, however, am not.’ Lord D’avant’s smile turned feline. ‘Nor do I want to spend a minute longer by the wall than we must, in case the rumours are true. We will wait. Enjoy the comforts of my castle for a day or two.’

The High Lord took a slice of bread, which gave permission for Ariadnne to do the same. Hers disappeared in three bites, and she eyed the basket. Shifting never failed to leave her ravenous.

Melixanthe pursed her lips. The client was always right, within reason, and the Council had warned them to take D’avant’s lead. Ultimately, they obeyed the Council. Melixanthe through loyalty as their General, and Ariadnne…well, they owned Ariadnne. She didn’t have much choice. They could point her where they wished. If she refused, they would be well within their rights to withhold her antidote until she either begged them for another dose, or died.

The curse on her race was an effective jailer, but it didn’t stop her from having questions about the looming battle. It was the first time in history that the humans had massed to march on the wall separating their lands from the fae. The rumours Melixanthe mentioned… dark happenings above the wall. Strange beasts. Dark fae. The rumours made Ariadnne concerned that the humans were fleeing, not invading—and that she was being sent to slaughter them.

A servant put a bowl in front of her, and Ariadnne’s nose wrinkled.

‘Fermented cod broth, my lady,’ he informed her, ‘A local delicacy.’

Ariadnne scrunched her face. Lucius slurped noisily beside her, and the sound turned her stomach further.

‘Must you?’ she hissed.

Lucius snorted in a good-natured way. ‘Don’t be such a princess; we all need to eat.’

‘Yes. But do you need to be such a reptile about it?’

Lucius met her dead in the eye and said, ‘Yes.’

‘Ariadnne,’ Lord D’avant rumbled, making her jump. He leaned across Melixanthe. ‘I can’t express how delighted I am to meet you. I’ve heard such tales, but none of them compare to seeing you in person. Those eyes…and…well. I wasn’t expecting you to be so…’ His eyes wandered down her front and Ariadnne paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, brain scrambling to think of an appropriate response. Her skin flushed and Melixanthe shot her a warning look, forcing her to swallow her retort. Her beast stirred in anger, and she quashed that too.

‘I… thank you for the compliment. My Lord.’

Melixanthe leant forward, politely pushing Lord D’avant back into his seat.

‘I assure you you’ll be pleased with your purchase,’ she said in a firm voice. ‘Ariadnne performed well in her last few skirmishes.’

She pointedly ignored his other comments, trapping him in conversation and giving Ariadnne space to collect herself. Lord D’avant looked at her the way men always did; as a commodity. She sincerely hoped that was the worst of it, or she’d be hard pressed to make it through the evening without shifting and ripping his head off.

Fortunately, the meal passed uneventfully, and as it ended, Lord D'avant invited the varanyen and their officers to continue their conversation in the drawing room.

Melixanthe pulled back Ariadnne’s chair, and they followed the High Lord through the arched doorway behind his throne, the other captains hurrying to join. Sol, of course, strode past without a glance her way. The rude bastard.

Grumbling to herself, Ariadnne followed down a corridor complete with portraits of figures similar enough to D’avant to be his ancestors in various stages of battle. Air elementals, most of them, or Gales, as they were known. Ariadnne dawdled to study the scenes, lost in their macabre vanity when there was a light brush against her arm and the cool tang of magic grazed her tongue. She glanced to see the White Knight moving to Sol’s side.

A jolt ran right through her core.

At almost a head shorter than her, the knight was petite, her armour exquisite; the plates intricately designed with reliefs of roses and swirling snowflakes around the stems. In contrast, the twin swords she was famous for hung across her back in plain scabbards, no frills or embellishments. It was well known that she was brilliant with those swords. Ariadnne wondered how someone so delicate could be so formidable.