Page 22 of Flameborne: Chosen

Her head dropped and she nodded. “I’m sorry.”

I blinked. “It’s not yours to be sorry for—should I be sorry that Kgosi chose me?”

A spark of life greater than the timidity she’d shown finally made itself apparent when she tipped her head up to peer at me from behind a curtain of her hair and shot me a wry look. “You, Sir, are the great Commander Donavyn Arsen. Your place is very much here. No one would question your strength or suitability for this.”

Behind me, Kgosi coughed. I shot him a look over my shoulder before answering her. “Bren, when I was chosen, I was eighteen years old. I’d barely grown hair on my balls, and hadn’t even taken a wo—” I caught myself, cursing, as her eyes widened, then darted away, her cheeks flushing red.

Damn. It was a comparison I’d made to the men so many times, it just rolled off my tongue without thought.

“Forgive me, that was… coarse,” I muttered. “What I meant to say was that if you had met me on the day of my Choosing, you would not have seen the man before you now. The dragons raise us into men. And women,” I added hurriedly. “I assure you, when Kgosi Chose me, there were a great many men older and wiser than I am now who expressed their lack of confidence. For years.”

“Truly?” she asked.

I nodded. “If my life is a testament to anything it is that the dragons don’t Choose for what we already are. They Choose for what they know we can become. If Akhane Chose you, it is because she saw great strength and power in you.”

But a battle warrior?I silently questioned my own . It seemed so unlikely.

Bren turned her head to look at her dragon, who met her eyes and blew steam from her nose in a short puff. Something passed between them before the woman turned back to me.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me, thank your dragon. It’s her judgment and the purposes of the God who created her that I rely on. Not you,” I said. I winked at her to soften the words, but she looked thoughtful and chewed her lip.

“Still, thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ll try. I’ll try to be what she sees in me.”

“Good. That’s all anyone can ask. The purpose in this will reveal itself in time. But for now we move ahead with what we know. And firstly, that is to get you fitted for leathers, housed, and placed in a squad. I’m afraid I’ll have to beg your patience. This may take some time.”

We reached the northern wing of the stables and I faced the first hurdle of having a woman in the ranks.

The stables were spacious—they had to be for creatures the size of dragons—but sparse. Brick walls rose taller than a dragon’s head, shielding a rectangle larger than most poor homes. There was no ceiling, the stables were open to the rafters above that soared over even Kgosi’s massive height when he raised his head. But the stables were to provide privacy, and rest. Solid wood doors crisscrossed with steel braces slid along the aisle wall to allow dragon and rider to pass, then could be rolled back out and locked from inside or out.

Only a small window in that door—barred so no nefarious creatures could crawl through to reach a dragon, and shuttered from the inside for privacy—allowed a short, man-height view of the stable’s interior when the door was closed.

Inside, the stone floor sloped gently away from the door. A gutter ran the length of the outer wall to drain fluids to the waste pits. Straw was strewn across the floor, and one corner held a large, manger-like barrel for the rare occasions the dragons didn’t hunt, or there was a shortage of natural food.

When men were first Chosen, they would spend a great deal of time in their dragon’s stable, especially the first few weeks as the Pair grew stronger in the bond. The proximity was part necessity—like first time mothers, dragons were prone to panic if their new bonds were out of sight for too long—and part wisdom.

A dragon and their ridermustgrow to know each other intimately. Instinctively. Especially if they were destined for battle. The link between them must become as thoughtless as breathing. Those early weeks of connection were critical to a lasting, healthy bond.

But the young men arriving in this environment were biologically equipped to tend to their bodies' needs with ease. The stable gutter made an easy piss-pot. The water fountains outside could be used for bathing—admittedly a more comfortable practice in summer than the cold months. There were also communal baths in the barracks. While men weren’t overly concerned about being seen naked by each other, our first female Flameborne couldn’t be expected to share those facilities.

‘She’ll also need consideration of her courses,’Kgosi mentioned casually.

Oh, dear God. He was right.

So. Many. Complications.

It was a relief to see the door to Akhane’s stable already open. I ushered Bren inside, then showed her how to stand safely at the wall—back to the bricks while the dragon entered and inspected. The stable had been cleaned while she was gone.

She dropped her snout to the floor, huffing, drawing in long breaths and puffing them out, checking the corners, and nudging the piles of straw.

“Anytime you return to the stable, just stand here for a time to let her find her way,” I told Bren quietly. “Dragons are fastidious about their personal spaces. If anything is left dirty, or another dragon has marked the area, she’ll let you know.”

Akhane circled the stable three times before lifting her head and snorting, twin plumes of smoke and steam from her nostrils.

“She says it’s clean,” Bren said quietly, her voice rimmed in awe.

I nodded. “The stablehands are well trained. We don’t generally have problems. But if something leaves her unhappy and you can’t fix it easily, just call for Benji, or another nearby hand. They’ll know what to do.”