Page 43 of Flameborne: Chosen

Diaan, the Queen, was clever, insightful, and usually focused on her own gain.

Her husband wasn’t the only royal who sought trophies both in and out of the bedroom.

Ten years my senior, she’d always been easy with me—both she and the King—from the day I became a General and took the Commander’s rank. But ever since I led the Furyknights in what we suspected was a gambit by the Draeventhall King to test our strategic response, she’d been overly familiar.

The battle had lasted only days before we’d turned the forces around. They weren’t supported by ground troops, and there’d been no threat or claim from nearby Kingdoms. The Draeventhall King sent a very florid, handwritten message along with gifts and royal servants, assuring Alexi that he’d had nothing to do with the covert insurgents, that themiscreantshad acted independently. But neither me nor the King or Queen had been convinced.

Still, we’d had no proof.

I’d spent a great deal of time with the King in the aftermath, speculating on the motives for such an incursion, and debating options for response. And in the process I had become very aware of the Queen’s attention. She’d becomeattentive.

Ever since, the hair on the back of my neck rose when she walked into a room. I could feel her eyes on me like a cat’s half-sheathed claws—playful, but it would only take the wrong move to turn them threatening.

A decade ago I would have happily entertained such a beautiful and powerful woman—and bragged about it, convinced that her attention raised my stock as a man. But now? Now I’d had time among the nobility to understand that they were not only no less human than the rest of us, but that many possessed little more self-control than a child, despite living in the bodies of adults. They were unaccustomed to being deniedanything.Entirely out of touch with the natural burdens of the common life. More often seeking entertainment than actual connection.

Petty. Political. And promiscuous.

And sadly, the bluer their blood, the less likely they were to have any selfless motive.

Diaan, while very intelligent and more thoughtful than the average noble, was still a woman who put me into a cold sweat. Her eyes were predatory.

And yet, she was the Queen. Ineededto walk with caution and respect for her crown, if not the woman herself.

And so, once again, I found myself fighting a frown as she fawned over me while we walked through the palace halls. Though the Queen’s version offawningwas more akin to simple respect and friendly affection. While I’d never seen her act cruelly to servants or those of low rank, to commoners she was distant to the point of cold. She showed more emotion towards the Palace cats.

Uneasy with her warmth, I did my best to avoid eye-contact, politely responded to her questions, and prayed we wouldn’t be left alone.

To my surprise, she led me straight to their personal chambers. When we reached the intersection of hallways where we would normally turn left towards the King’s office, instead she tugged me right.

I balked. “Your Highness, it wouldn’t be appropriate—”

“Oh, hush, Donavyn,” she said, smiling up at me. “You’re almost as stuck in the traditions as he is. He’s weary and nervous about your news. I told him I’d bring you to him directly so he didn’t have to call for the servants.”

I stared down at her, head spinning—was it a ruse? It was possible the King had been called elsewhere and she was trying to corner me. But if hewasthere waiting, he’d be furious to hear I’d refused her.

I eyed the guards in front and behind, then looked back down to find her smiling with one pretty brow arched.

“I am a Queen, not a spider, Donavyn,” she whispered, amused. “There’s no web awaiting you.” Then she startled me by letting go of my arm and walking gracefully towards the bedchamber doors where more guards stood ready to open them for her.

“I’ll announce the Commander. Let him enter when he’s called,” she instructed them casually. Then with one glance at me over her shoulder—eyes twinkling—she stepped inside as they opened the doors, the train of her silky robe trailing on the floor behind her. “Husband, your Commander is here, and his news is not dire as we suspected, so you may breathe easily again.”

“Donavyn, come!” the King grunted from within.

I strode forward, nodding to accept the salutes of the guards, following her into the chamber, relieved to find the King standing at the sideboard, cut-crystal tumbler in hand, wrapped in a hastily tied robe that was a fraction too tight. He’d been a man of action and strength in his youth, but now at sixty, while his limbs remained strong, his stomach bulged over the robe ties, and his jowls sagged.

“So, it’s not war then? ThankGod,”he muttered as the guards closed the doors behind me. I murmured reassurance, but he threw back a full two fingers of an amber spirit then clunked the glass down on the bar without so much as a wince. “What in God’s name brings you here at this time of night, then?” he asked, sounding more curious than angry.

The Queen had joined him and stood at his side, her arms folded, smiling at me.

I sighed. “There has been a rather historic event today. And now that I’m certain it’s real, I wanted to be the one to tell you, rather than leave you to hear gossip that’s likely inaccurate. I apologize for the late hour, but it is only now that my duties have been fulfilled, and I didn’t want to alarm you with a brief message when I wasn’t sure exactly what might come of it.”

Both royals stared at me expectantly.

“Well? Spit it out, man. What is it?”

I clasped my hands behind my back to keep myself standing tall. “Today, for the first time, a woman wasChosenby a dragon. It appears Vosgaarde have received the first ever female Flameborne,” I said as blandly as I could.

The King stared, his brow pinched in consternation.