Page 46 of Wings of Ice and Steel

‘Right! Form up!’ The general’s command rolled across the yard.

Garth split them into two teams for drills; Ariadnne’s were to form a shield wall and focus on defence, while Rook’s worked in pairs to try and breach the wall. Nieve was placed on Ariadnne’s team and pressed close enough to quicken Ariadnne’s breath as their shields locked together. Ariadnne was torn between revelling in the sensation of Nieve’s limbs against hers—and wishing she was further down the line so she could concentrate. On two occasions it was Nieve’s quick movement that sent a blow glancing away that otherwise would have struck Ariadnne’s legs.

‘Ten minutes, then we go airborne.’ Melixanthe shouted, and the company broke apart for a break. Ariadnne’s arms ached, and she was frustrated with her poor performance, knowing she needed to get her head in line.

For the flight, each knights’ arrows were marked so that the results of who hit which targets could be tallied and used to rank them in ability. In order to even make it onto Ariadnne’s team her warriors were already amongst the finest archers in the Guild.

It was Ariadnne’s job to make the course as challenging as possible. To make the competition interesting.

She gazed round the array of targets, raised high on extended flag poles. Some were scattered across the nearby countryside, others were dotted on the sides of the tower walls or floated on buoys out at sea. When Melixanthe was satisfied the team had rested enough, she tapped Ariadnne on the shoulder.

‘Let’s go,’ she said and gestured for Ariadnne to shift.

Ariadnne was about to take a step forward when the gate rattled and Councillors Jagen and Sarlemon entered, talking softly.

‘Carry on,’ Jagen’s voice carried easily across the yard. The two councillors moved to the edge of the space and Ariadnne’s heart sank. They were here to inspect and observe. She needed to prove that she was as good a flier as she’d ever been if they were to accept that she didn’t need the males as bodyguards. She glanced at Nieve, whose blue eyes pinched with worry as she frowned at the councillors.

Taking a deep breath, Ariadnne strode to the centre of the arena. The sea breeze whipped the tunic around her legs as she stood with her back to her company. Without flare she drew the tunic over her head and kicked off her trousers. Immediately, she felt the probing gazes of the councillors trail over her skin, and her fists clenched. She was never bothered by nudity around her own company, they were exposed to it enough, but it always felt wrong when the Council came to watch.

One ice-kissed gaze soothed her rage, helping her find her centre. It burned a brand into her back, marking her.

Making her skin tingle.

The tunic had barely touched the floor when the change rippled through her, her dragon bursting out of her skin in a riot of white, blue, and silver. Raw magic flooded her form, filling her with power. With a shake of her mane, she settled onto her four legs, crouching for the waiting harness engineers.

Twenty-two

Nieve

Nieve gripped her harness, crouching close to Ariadnne’s scales as her powerful hindquarters launched them into the air, immense wings snapping either side of her head. Nieve’s cheeks burned. She’d tried not to watch, but the image of Ariadnne as she had slipped out of her tunic to stand fearlessly on the arena floor before her transformation had burned onto the underside of her eyelids and made her feel a deep ache of want. It was… distracting.

Dangerously so.

She cleared her mind, concentrating on the way the dragon’s lithe body undulated as she climbed, a burst of exhilaration ripping through her seams as she matched her balance to the movement, Ariadnne gaining speed. She should be trying to locate the first target, but her foolhardy thoughts kept drifting in other directions, like how the idea of keeping her growing interest in Ariadnne a secret went against everything she wanted. She didn’t fully understand why anyone would care; attraction was attraction, regardless of who it fell between, and in their case it should be celebrated. Screamed from the rooftops.

Yet here they were; observed by the Council. Regulated. Ariadnne’s fear cracking a hole in her heart.

Gods, her laugh, though. It made Nieve feel alive.

She sighed, trying to focus. She needed to perform, to prove to Melixanthe she was invaluable.

She readied her bow, bracing as Ariadnne banked, diving towards the first set of targets. Nieve took aim, releasing in quick succession until, with a sharp backstroke, Ariadnne changed direction, throwing her last shot wide.

Nieve smiled broadly; it was game on.

The course passed in a blur as Ariadnne threw herself into it at assault speed. Filled with unexpected turns and sudden drops, it was a very different experience to flying Lucius—who barrelled through courses like a tank.

To her left, Josef stood tall despite the wild turns and twists. The others were the same, used to the varanya’s agility. Experts at keeping their footing while Nieve fought to remain upright.

Then they were shooting over the waves, the next run of targets floating ahead. Nieve readied herself, ensuring her aim before letting her arrow fly.

She felt for the poor sods who had to row out to fetch those ones.

Gliding back to the dusty arena, her teammates buzzed with adrenaline, pounding each other on the back as they dismounted, exclaiming over the course. Ariadnne watched, silent, her violet eyes resting on Nieve more than once.

Then the great dragon was changing, shrinking, and re-forming. Nieve fought not to watch, to join in with the team, but the devious breeze gifted her a hint of honey and spice and she caught a forbidden glimpse of caramel-kissed skin before the varanya threw a tunic over her head.

Melixanthe’s eyes landed on her and Nieve shifted her focus to Kayla, who was talking away, impressed she had spotted the target hidden in the disused cliff-side doorway.