Page 53 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

~ DONAVYN ~

I almost panicked when I couldn’t find her.

I had another book for her—this one a fantasy tale about a female archer and assassin that I thought she’d enjoy.

I’d been saving it for her first assessment, and praying she’d forgive me for my distance in recent days.

I’d been trying to rein in my thoughts and body so that when we worked together again she wouldn’t sense my attraction.

I’d eagerly anticipated her assessment this morning, praying she’d make it through.

I’d never imagine I’d end the morning watching her roll, then fall—God, my heart was in my throat.

When they landed in front of me, I’d run to Akhane without thought, right in front of the troops.

And thank God no one thought deeply about it.

They all knew I was a hands-on leader and would have helped any man who might be injured.

But having her in my arms for those moments…

I groaned and clawed a hand through my hair as I stormed along the streets of Vosgaarde City, towards the taverns most popular among the squads.

I’d already checked the Gilded Fang and even ducked into Ashhook’s Crown, just in case. Now I was on my way to the Anvil and Vine, praying that’s where they’d gone. I couldn’t believe she’d gone into the city without telling anyone!

Anger bubbled in my chest and I swallowed it back.

She was clearly unaccustomed to others being concerned for her wellbeing.

But she needed to learn. I winced. I had to step very, very carefully.

To have me show up personally and reprimand her in front of other Furyknights and Flameborne wouldn’t help her standing among her peers at all .

But she couldn’t just disappear!

For the dozenth time tonight, I cursed myself.

I shouldn’t be here personally. But I did have a directive from the King to ensure her safety.

And there was no way to explain to another Furyknight how certain I was that she was in danger without having to answer some very pointed questions about why.

Questions I couldn’t possibly find answers for.

Because there was no logical reason to believe she’d been hurt or was about to be, and yet, I was driven forward.

She’d been invading my thoughts all day, ever since I got her loose from that safety strap and caught sight of her wounded arm.

My heart had almost stopped. But I’d been unneeded.

It should have been a moment for pride, to see her walk into her destiny, injured or not.

To watch her be helped by another Flameborne and his dragon.

To see her brothers celebrate her… All of it was exactly what I’d been leading her towards.

And everything I’d prayed for her—except the wound, of course.

But as she marveled over the healing, then disappeared with her squad, beaming and laughing, without so much as a glance at me, the hollow of my chest shifted in a way I didn’t like.

Thank God I’d been pulled away because we’d needed to investigate exactly what had happened up there—how she’d missed the instruction to dive, and why there were whispers of another Flameborne attempting to sabotage her.

I hadn’t seen anything curious in the flight until she urged Akhane into a roll—and that had put my heart in my fucking chest.

I knew she’d never ridden that before. Knew they’d never practiced it. How she’d become aware of the move was beyond me, but dear God.

Seeing Akhane flatten into a streamline and surge forward, I’d literally cried out. Thank God the others had shouted in shock and concern as well.

She had no idea how close she’d come to death.

I was shaking when I ran to get her down from the safety strap, trembling with horror when I saw her arm—the dragonhide laid open like common linen.

I grimaced and turned my mind from that. She was fine. She’d been healed—skillfully, and swiftly, and by another fucking Flameborne?

I’d already spoken to Saul’s Wing Captain about forwarding his progress as quickly as possible. We didn’t usually get to see a Flameborne’s true gifting until they were well into the trials. Sometimes not until later. But there was no doubt which direction that pair were pointed.

That thought immediately dragged my attention back to Bren and what it meant that she’d flown straight into the open mouth of an “enemy” and attempted a move that even a qualified Furyknight would hesitate over.

If that dragon’s tail had sliced her safety strap instead of her forearm …

God, it didn’t bear thinking about.

And that was when the confused tangle in my chest tightened to a knot.

Something was fucking wrong.

I rounded the corner towards the Anvil and Vine, my heart in my throat. She had to be here. Please, God, let her be here. I didn’t often get these instincts, but when I did, they were never wrong. She needed help.

But even that thought made me frown. I knew Saul’s Wing Captain well.

Sovanne was a good man, and honorable. His team wouldn’t harm Bren.

If I hadn’t had this inexplicable instinct, I would have simply waited for her to return, warned her not to leave without telling someone again, and left it at that.

In fact, I might have encouraged the friendship.

The squad she’d gone out with wasn’t trouble.

At least, they shouldn’t be. Could any person be trusted entirely when under the influence of alcohol?

Usually if the men were out celebrating, I worried more that they’d cause problems for others. No man in his right mind would taunt a Furyknight—and if one who was out of his mind did so, any of our knights had an entire squad at their back.

I was not accustomed to worrying about a Flameborne. Not in this way.

I prayed I was wrong. Prayed I’d walk into this establishment and find her halfway in her cups, smiling and innocent and well looked after.

I’d pray this was a night for my embarrassment.

But as I reached the front of the tavern where the tall windows bathed the footpath in warm light and music and chatter bubbled even through the windows and walls, suddenly the door flew open, spilling shouts and curses into the street.

I heard her name once and my heart leaped into my throat.

Then a tiny, slight frame, dressed in leathers and a trim jacket, sprinted out of the tavern and up the street… hair flying.

It was her.

I didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, just ran after her, sprinting past the door as it flew open again and others poured out into the night.

“Stay back!” I snarled—the Furyknights drawing up sharp, surprised as they recognized me. But then I was into the dark beyond the tavern, cursing when Bren ducked into an alleyway three doors down.

By the time I reached it she was bent over, one hand braced on the wall, vomiting.

I slid to a halt, panting, holding one hand up to keep the others back who’d stayed outside the tavern, but not followed because I’d growled at them not to.

“Bren,” I said quietly as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and sucked in a shuddering breath .

I don’t know if she hadn’t realized I was there, or if it was simply because it was me, but she startled and shot upright, stumbling back a step or two, wide-eyed, before she came to a halt at attention.

She quivered from head to toe.

Her eyes were so wide, even in the darkness I could see the whites of them.

I raised both hands, palms out to show her I meant no harm. “Breathe, Bren. Just breathe.”

She blinked several times, rapidly, then heaved and stumbled aside again, retching, her body convulsing as it tried to bring up the nothing left in her stomach.

I ground my teeth and glared back down the street towards the men.

When she’d coughed and was breathing again, but not looking at me now, I kept my voice low so they wouldn’t hear.

“Did they give you spirits?” I asked quietly. “Did they—”

“No. N-no. Nothin’ like th-that. It was… It wass all jussa mistake,” she panted. But she didn’t meet my eyes.

“Bren… if there’s been… misconduct, you don’t need to protect them—”

“No, no. Itss… they were nice,” she said plaintively, but her voice shook, and I could hear the tears coming.

“They were good.” She tried to stand to attention again, but her hands were shaking, and the tears threatening.

“I don’ wan’ them to see me cry,” she breathed, and the tiny crack in her voice broke my heart.

I wanted nothing more than to gather her in and soothe her, cover her from other eyes, spirit her away. But we had an entire audience—worried and whispering to each other, waiting to hear why I’d stopped them running after her. Not to mention the patrons inside the tavern that weren’t Furyknights.

This little spectacle would be gossip for the entire city tomorrow if we weren’t careful.

At a loss, I turned and caught eyes with Sovanne, beckoning him to come closer.

I stepped to the edge of the alleyway so Bren could see me, but Sovanne wouldn’t see her when he trotted up.

He saluted, and there was no alcohol on his breath, thank God.

“Report,” I muttered. “Quietly.”

Sovanne nodded once, then murmured his reply in quick, short sentences.

His expression worried. “She’s been fine.

No one harmed her. She went to the water closet and on her way back a man—not one of us—touched her.

He claims he didn’t, but she was sure. We intervened and it should have been nothing. But she fled.”

Shit. “Who saw it?”

“Everyone saw us step in for her. But only the staff heard the initial exchange. I’m sure others have heard it by now, though,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder towards the tavern and frowning .

I nodded. “Take the men back in. Smile. Laugh. Tell them all that everything is fine. She was just drunk and needed some fresh air. Stay for at least an hour. Until the looks and whispers stop. If the man wants to leave, let him do so, but get his name. We’ll see if there are any other reports from the women. Just, make it nothing.”

“Yes, sir. But she’ll need—”

“I’ll get her back. Thank God I was coming as she left. It makes it clean and easy. Don’t worry, soldier. The divine hand has provided.” I winked and he huffed and then turned to trot back to his men and do exactly as he’d been told.

Thank God.

Thank God I was here.

When he was well away and filling in his squad, ushering them back inside, I turned back to find Bren sitting curled up on the ground, her back to the alleyway wall, her face in her hands.

She looked so small, my heart broke.

“Bren?” I said softly. She lifted her tearstained face and her eyes shone even in the dark. My heart pinched, and I felt the rumble of Kgosi in the distance, reacting to the ache in me. “Let’s go home.” I walked over to stand at her toes and offered her a hand.

She nodded once, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then grasped my hand and pulled herself up to stand—then promptly lost her balance and fell into my chest.