Page 6 of Wings of Ice and Steel

Nieve scoffed. ‘Taller?’ She leant back. A strand of hair had fallen from behind Ariadnne’s ear and fluttered past the scarred skin of her neck. Nieve wrenched her gaze away, forcing a casual grin. ‘As long as what you’ve heard makes up for my lack of stature, then I’d say I’m off to a good start—’

Ariadnne’s eyes flicked towards the crowd by the fire, her smile dropping. Melixanthe watched the pair of them with hawk-like intensity, her face far from benevolent.

Nieve straightened her spine. ‘She always watches, I take it?’

‘Always,’ Ariadnne replied, and her smile twisted into something bitter.

‘Hmm.’ Nieve fumbled for a safe topic. Something suitable for a conversation in sight of Ariadnne’s handler, away from the dangerous brink of attraction she teetered on. She settled on:

‘Are you excited about the campaign?’

‘Excited?’ Ariadnne frowned. ‘I’m not sure excited is the right word.’ She raised a brow. ‘It’s a lot of pressure—keeping everyone alive. And…’ She paused, frowning as though considering how much to say. ‘I like to know why I’m fighting, and this time I don’t.’

‘Oh…’

Thoughts of why never really crossed Nieve’s mind. There was a threat and they were being paid to take care of it. Same as in Lord Gestalt’s army. She liked to keep her life simple.

‘Melixanthe mentioned that dark fae have been sighted in the north…’ Ariadnne continued, gazing at the wall of books beside her.

Nieve nodded. She had heard the rumours but had hoped they were just that. Rumours. Dark fae were the stuff of nightmares; twisted parodies of the fey folk. They were also supposed to be buried deep in the earth, as they had been for centuries.

‘If they were the reason, surely we’d know?’

‘Would we?’ Ariadnne shrugged, gesturing towards the fire. ‘Do any of them care about what happens beyond the wall?’

Nieve frowned. ‘So…you don’t think we should fight?’

Ariadnne sighed, as though Nieve had missed the point. ‘I just want to understand. I don’t have much choice in the matter. You do. Don’t you want to know why?’

Nieve sat back, disturbed by Ariadnne not having choice. That wasn’t what she’d been led to believe by the Guild—no, the varanyen lived for glory and battle. They followed the Guild because of some ancient accord that they didn’t talk about, but Lucius always seemed willing.

Her skin itched.

‘Why isn’t something I often ask,’ she said quietly

‘Don’t you care?’ Ariadnne questioned. ‘You’re good at what you do. I’ve heard the stories. Is your love for the fight all that matters?’ Ariadnne stared as though this was an answer she genuinely needed.

‘Having a talent for something and finding joy in it can be two separate things,’ Nieve said carefully.

Ariadnne leaned forwards, two small lines appearing between her eyebrows.

‘What brings you joy, then?’ she asked quietly, and a tingle ran across Nieve’s skin.

‘You first, Ariadnne,’ she said, leaning forwards to mirror her. ‘Tell me something about you. What brings you joy?’

Ariadnne’s mouth twisted. ‘I think I’m yet to find out.’

Their eyes met.

‘Ariadnne.’ They both jumped as Melixanthe appeared. ‘It’s time to retire.’ The general fixed Nieve with her gaze. ‘Until the morning?’

Nieve bobbed her head. ‘Until the morning, Ma’am.’

The general couldn’t have picked a finer moment to interrupt. Nieve’s eyes followed Ariadnne as she unfolded from the chair, the pressure of what she’d wanted to say leaning heavy on her tongue.

Melixanthe strode towards the doorway and summoned a servant to lead them to their quarters. Ariadnne lingered as Nieve rose, but with a tiny shake of her head, her facade snapped back into place. Nieve wished she could interpret that look on her face as Ariadnne turned to Melixanthe—the epitome of a good little soldier.

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