Page 57 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

“…don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get this covered quickly.

Bren, you need to understand the differences between Wings and Squads as you make it through the trials, because a Furyknight’s family is his squad, but his purpose is determined by his—or her—Wing.

I’m going to cover this quickly this morning.

I want you to keep studying though. Talk to your brothers.

Visit the library. Get it all straight in your head.

The closer you get to being raised Furyknight, the more important it will become… ”

Twenty minutes later, my stomach was sick and my head spun as my brother’s tried to help me understand.

“Each Wing has a role to play, and no matter what squad you’re in, your role in battle, or on a mission will be determined by which Wing you’re in. Whether you’re with your squad, or sent out as part of a special team…”

Flyer, Flame, and Fang. Because of Ruin, I already knew the names of the Wings, and that each had a Captain who oversaw every Furyknight within that Wing. Gunnar was Captain for the Flyers, Mont for Flame, and Olve oversaw the Fang.

Each Wing also had a slightly different pin. The pins with etched bronze on the Commander and Ronen during my acknowledgement were the exception. All the normal Furyknights had pins that identified their Wing .

A Flyer’s bronze-set pin of a sleek dragon head with wings rising above, and flames between the wings, was all black enamel with only the wings in red.

A Flame’s pin had the fire in red but the dragon all black. And the Fang riders dragon’s head and snout were red, while the rest was black.

I understood that a Wing was selected for a Furyknight and their dragon when the Furyknight was finally raised—part of the Trials assessments were for the leaders to identify where a Flameborne’s skill, and their dragon’s talent leaned to assign the Wing.

But that was where my head began to spin. There were Furyknights and dragons of every color in every Wing. The Wings all had specific purposes, yet their duties converged.

“…every Furyknight is a fighter, but we battle in different ways,” Ronen explained patiently, my brothers nodding along, or nudging each other.

“The Flyers are, well, flyers. Their skills focus on the skies, and they’ll bring weapons and strategies against enemy dragon pairs, to attack ground forces from above.

In our squad, Jhoare and Harle are flyers. If you have questions, ask those two.”

Harle pumped his fist, and Jhoare nodded at me.

“The Flame are fighters, through and through—both ground and flight. Our dragons have the longest reach and hottest flame, and while they may use other weapons, their focus in training and battle is on combat—reducing our enemy’s numbers by any means necessary.

My self and Oros are Flame. You can reach out to us to better understand how and why we fight differently from the others. ”

Oros, my massive brother, built like my father’s favorite bull back at the farm raised his hand while Ronen gestured at his own chest.

“…Then the Fang are our stealth wing—still fighters, though many Fang focus on tracking or scouting. The Fang sends pairs ahead of battle to find our enemies and set up ambushes. They’re used as the flanking ranks when we’re on the offensive.

Fang pairs hide in plain sight, but when they’re revealed, they fight dirty.

Gil, Einar, and Voski are all Fang, so you can talk to them—but watch out, they’re sneaky fuckers. ”

Gil grinned. Einar snorted. But Voski turned his head enough to catch my eye, a menacing expression on his face.

“Okay, thanks,” I said when Ronen kept staring at me like he was waiting for a response. “I guess I’ll talk to you later?”

My Wing Captain gave a half-smile. “Bren, part of becoming a Furyknight is learning how and when to use your initiative—and always being prepared to serve your squad, your Wing, and your Kingdom. Don’t wait for someone to offer—you ask for what you need, be thoughtful and responsive to help, and just as ready to offer yourself to others as they are to you. ”

I nodded quickly, my cheeks heating because I knew he meant my brothers and learning about the Furyknights, but the moment he said offer yourself, my mind flashed on Donavyn and that kiss and —

Ronen nodded, then clapped his hands once to get everyone’s eyes back on him. “Brothers, be ready to aid your sister when she comes with questions. But now it’s time to move on. Since you’re here, let’s cover announcements. The first is, our sister is now cleared to fly!”

A great whoop went up in the room. As they cheered and clapped, my head ached, but I couldn’t help feeling warm. I hoped my smile told them I was genuinely grateful.

They cheered their congratulations and my belly flipped at their applause, but it was short-lived.

Soon, Ronen was droning about shifts and patrols for the coming week, and other details that didn’t relate to me.

Yet, I reminded myself. They don’t relate to me yet.

Soon, I’ll be able to fly with them. If the Commander doesn’t kick me out for misconduct.

“…That’s all I have for next week’s schedules. Talk to Gil if you’ve got any conflicts, but—” Ronen broke off with a glance towards the open door, then bolted to attention. “Furyknights, Attention!”

Chairs and stools screeched on the stone floor as my brothers shot to their feet. I blinked and leaped off my stool a beat behind them when Donavyn strode into the room.

Time slowed, and for a long, slow breath, my head emptied of every thought except he’s here. He entered the room like he owned it, his dark hair tied back, handsome face stern, shoulders broad and flat, hands casually at his sides…

Strong hands that had grasped me, held me, helped me.

Piercing hazel eyes that watched, shadowed with concern if I was hurt.

Lips that curled into a smile when I did something right—and tripped over his tongue to spit his regret when I’d kissed him—

As one, my brothers saluted as Donavyn came to a stop next to Ronen, shaking his hand.

“Sir!”

I was half-a-breath too slow, but I finally made it to proper attention and into a salute, just as the others were dropping theirs.

Donavyn turned to the rest of us and nodded once to accept the salutes. “At ease. This isn’t a formal meeting.”

There was a murmur of welcomes and good wishes as Donavyn looked around the room and each of my brothers relaxed and sank back into their seats.

But I was frozen—until Donavyn caught my eyes for a split second before he moved on and suddenly my cheeks were aflame.

I averted my gaze as I climbed back onto the high stool, then dropped my chin, let my hair hide my face, and sank slowly into my own mortification.

As Donavyn began, I begged God to let the floor open under my stool and swallow me whole.

But he was the General and even though he’d told us to be at ease, all my brothers faced him and listened and I had to do the same.

He met eyes with each of us at different times.

The first time he looked at me I thought my hair would catch fire.

But the second time, there was a flash—heat and tension.

Anger? I didn’t know, but my churning stomach sank to my toes as he moved on to Jhoare in the row next to me, his expression unchanged.

“…I know you’re a good, solid squad. A group of men—and woman—that Ronen can be proud of.

It’s part of why we allowed Bren to settle with you, because we knew you’d treat her with the respect she deserved, and not shirk your duties.

You are a squad I point to as an example.

I want to acknowledge that. Don’t be disheartened.

I know this new Flameborne training has been challenging, but you’ve risen to that challenge.

So, in many ways, I can only commend you.

However, today I find myself disappointed,” he said quietly.

I blinked and Donavyn glanced at me, then away, showing nothing on his face.

My heart raced. What was he doing? Would he tell them?!

I opened my mouth to apologize and beg him not to go any further, but he spoke before I could.

“Last night—”

Oh God, he was going to—

“— one of your number was alone and in danger, and this squad remained ignorant that she was even away from the Reach, let alone in need of help.”

The room went still, tension zinging in the air. I felt eyes on the back of my neck and stared right at him, begging, pleading silently that he wouldn’t—

“I understand that Flameborne Kearney’s path is unchartered territory and we’re all learning.

But one thing I know you know as a group is the importance of solidarity.

Between you, you have proven that for years.

Yet, last night, one of your own was drunk, harmed—though not seriously—and needed assistance. While you remained unaware.”

A low shuffling sound was accompanied by the rumble of male disapproval and the heat of gazes pinning me from behind.

Voski turned in his seat again to glance at me over his shoulder, his face expressionless, but his gaze penetrating.

I tried to sink lower in my seat.

Donavyn lifted his chin and clasped his hands behind his back.

“It appears that our solution in putting Bren with Kgosi, not in the barracks, has solved one problem but created another. Last night I learned she has been left mostly to her own devices when not training. Now, I don’t expect you all to watch over her every second—she isn’t a child.

” Did I imagine that his voice grew rougher on those words?

“However, I do expect that you extend her the same protection and awareness you extend each other.

“Last night, I spoke with Flameborne Kearney about her responsibility to keep you informed and aware of her movements and choices. I believe she heard me and will make certain you have an opportunity to assist her in future if she should need it—and visa versa. But that still leaves us with a squad member living in isolation. And not purely because of the location of her room. Though it is harder to function with one of your number living outside the barracks, that is not an excuse to shirk duties only squad brothers can fulfill. So, her location means that you must find new ways of working as one.”

I wanted to shake my head. To beg him to stop. And for a moment I thought he’d heard my prayers because he paused then, his tone and expression very serious. But I watched him pin my brothers with a gaze, one after the other. Then he took a breath.

“This squad is under discipline until the end of the week. You will each receive a mark on your record that will be expunged one year from today, assuming there are no further issues. And this week you’ll spend your Sevenday morning in the scatpits assisting the Forgewrights.”

My mouth dropped open as a groan rose in the room, then seven pairs of eyes turned dark looks on me.