Page 81 of Flameborne: Chosen

I blinked and looked at Donavyn. “I was told to always slide down the rope, or walk down with it. But—”

“Why?” he asked bluntly. “Why do we teach new riders to do that?”

I swallowed hard, mentally digging to remember the answer. “Because, uh, sometimes we’re dismounting in battle, or bad weather, or other circumstances where we don’t know the terrain and it can be dangerous to jump. We might injure ourselves and not be able to get back on.”

“Very good,” he said with true warmth in his eyes. But it stilled quickly. “So, that’s your challenge, Flameborne. Will you meet it?” he said quietly.

My chest panged. Was it never enough? Was there never going to beenoughdone to make these fuckers happy? I’d just finally had a win—my first real achievement since I was Chosen, and all he wanted wasmore?

A strange noise chittered in Akhane’s throat. She didn’t send anything, but I could feel her in the bond, bristling.

I took a deep breath and looked at my hands. I’d barely felt the pain in them while I was working the harness, and climbing. I was so focused on the task. But now, looking at the climb, knowing all my weight would be held on my hands…

That is your challenge, Flameborne. Will you meet it?

I huffed and wanted to argue, but then the General’s words earlier in the evening echoed in my head.

When a challenge is placed in front of you, to take every possible step to overcome it. And when you feel angry, or hurt, or tired, you keep your mouth shut and you keep going anyway. That is discipline. And discipline is the spine at the back of our entire body of war…

I wasn’t afraid of hard work, so why did I find myself so resistant to the philosophy here?

Because it came from men,I answered myself.

Men, who I had always seen as so unwilling to swallow their pride. Yet, here I sat, unwilling to swallow mine?

It was a surprise that the General still stood patiently, waiting for my answer.

Taking a deep breath I met his gaze and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he growled and smiled again. “Now, don’t forget to unbuckle that release strap, or you’ll be back up there in a minute,” he added.

Pleasure fluttered through my chest at his smile, despite the groan anticipating pain in my body. But moments later I had the strap released, then found myself in the awkward position of needing to get both legs over her back, but braced to get tension against the rope so I could climb down.

It took a full minute to manage it, but finally I had the mounting strap in my hands, my feet braced on Akhane’s shoulder, and my weight levered back against my grip on the strap to keep myself positioned for the walk down the way my brothers had shown me.

And at first, it went well. I took tiny steps down, inch by inch until I traversed the round of her shoulder and her muscles dug in under her clavicle. The next step, without warning, my boot slipped.

I caught my weight on the strap and swung, but the shocking pain in my hands made my grip release on reflex and I dropped—Donavyn’s eyes wide and a shout echoing in the stable as he darted aside so I wouldn’t land on him.

My ankles groaned with pain when I landed, and I was glad for the straw on the floor as I tried to let my knees take the shock, but my momentum from that height tumbled me awkwardly back into the hay.

Donavyn rushed forward, alarmed, my name on his tongue.

But I was already rolling to my side, laughing.

My knees and ankles ached, my hands were bleeding again, and I was so tired I wanted nothing more than to faceplant into the straw and sleep. But Akhane had somehow placed a flickering image in my head, her memory. Of me. Falling on my ass. And I looked ridiculous.

I pushed to all fours, back aching, spluttering with laughter.

Donavyn stopped within arms reach, but didn’t touch me, and when I looked up, his expression was a combination of baffled relief, and alarmed concern.

And that only made me laugh more.

“I l-love the f-flying,” I spluttered. “B-but it’s a helluva d-dismount.”

Donavyn coughed like he was covering laughter of his own. A moment later his wide, calloused palm appeared in the air in front of my nose. After a second, shaking my head in resignation, I placed my hand in his and let him help me to my feet, still giggling.

But when I was upright, Donavyn wasn’t fighting laughter anymore. He’d turned my hand over and was examining my palm, a frown on his face.