Page 70 of Flameborne: Chosen (Emberquell Academy #1)

SOUNDTRACK: Echoes of Yesterday by Cassandra’s Whispers

~ brEN ~

It only took a few minutes to fly back to the Keep, but I’d stopped crying before we got there. But by the time we landed in the launch hollow I could breathe again, and the shame had crept in.

‘They were just pranking me,’ I wailed to Akhane. ‘I knew it, but it felt—’

‘Just rest, Little Flame. Don’t bother yourself. It will pass.’

‘But they—’

‘They should have listened when you pleaded with them to stop. They know that now. I spoke with Ekko. Ronen is instructing the others as we speak.’

I groaned. “No, no, no, no. They’re going to—”

‘They’re going to treat you with more respect in future,’ Akhane interrupted me firmly. ‘Don’t tell yourself that’s a bad thing.’

I’d slid to the ground to unstrap Akhane, who stood still as a stone but turned her head, keeping her eye on me even when I was under her belly.

The straps were harder and heavier than usual because they were wet.

The leather wouldn’t be hurt, but it took longer than normal for me to unharness her, and then I struggled to roll it together in the right way to carry it—and I was still so ashamed and frustrated, angry at them because I’d been having fun with them and wanted to keep doing that, but also angry with myself because they weren’t trying to hurt me.

Visions and memories continued to bleed into my thoughts, but I pushed them away.

My hands trembled and my breath shuddered.

God, I was so weak .

“I hate this!” I hissed, trying desperately to get the harness rolled correctly so it was small enough to carry. But I kept losing my grip and my vision blurred and—

‘Bren, stop. Breathe. Gather yourself. Give yourself grace.’

‘I always ruin everything. Every time!’

— Male eyes, dark and glazed, in a frowning, sneering face. “God, you can’t even take a joke —

With a curse of frustration, I let the harness fall to the ground. “I can’t do this!”

‘Bren—’

I stood in front of her, the harness in a tangle at my feet, and my arms at my side. God, I was exhausted. “I’m going to ask one of the stableboys to help me. I’ll just tell them it’s because it’s wet.”

Akhane didn’t respond, but she extended her neck and laid her broad face against my chest, then breathed out in a long, low huff that sent steaming hot air washing over my legs and feet and helped to warm some of the chill.

With a half-sob, I hugged her face and held her there, resting my temple against the flat of her nose. ‘Thank you,’ I sent lamely.

‘It isn’t as bad as you think, Bren. It’s good to ask for help.’

I nodded. ‘You go back to the stable. I’ll get one of the boys to help me, then I’ll go to bed.’

‘We will walk to the stables together, Bren.’

‘Thank you.’

I let her go and she nudged me with her snout, then I turned and climbed the inside of the launch hollow. She’d landed in the same spot that she had when she Chose me, so our steps followed almost the exact path we’d walked with Donavyn to the stables for the first time.

There was no one around when we entered the stables, which was a relief. Akhane lumbered next to me. I trotted as quickly as I could up the main aisle, then turned east into the long aisle that had Kgosi’s large stable alone at the end.

My clothing was still wet, though it had been dried some by the fierce winds of flying.

But I was cold. I wanted to hurry, so peeled off to the tack room halfway down the aisle to look for one of the stableboys.

Usually when they were off, they took stools in there.

But it was late and there was no one there.

Which meant I had to go wake one of them in the loft.

Dammit.

I patted Akhane with a hand that was almost steady and told her I’d run back. The loft where the stableboys slept was over the southern wing. At least it was closer to the launch hollow, so we’d be done sooner.

I’d just made it to the main intersection of aisles when I heard footsteps approaching from the east and turned, thinking one of the boys was up after all and hoping it was Benji—only to freeze in place because the figure walking towards me wasn’t the small, slight figure of one of the young boys, but the tall, strong form of a man .

A Furyknight.

No, worse.

When he lifted his head and our eyes caught, I would have sworn God had cursed me.

It was Faren.

The moment he recognized me he looked up and to the side, shaking his head like he was complaining to God. But his jaw tightened and even though his hands clenched to fists, he walked on.

Every instinct in my body urged me to run, but I was frozen.

Yet, as he drew closer and his lip pulled into a sneer, he didn’t come for me.

“And they say the Creator doesn’t have a sense of humor,” he muttered, marching closer. “Don’t worry, I’m only here to gather Shani’s things.”

I frowned, I was struggling to breathe. “What… what do you mean?”

“He’s a messenger dragon now—at least for the next three months. He gets moved to the other stables,” Faren spat. “I hope you’re happy. It’s not just me that’s being punished for nothing—it’s my dragon, too!”

I bristled as he drew closer, but my fear rose as well. “I never—it wasn’t—”

“Fucking Commander’s favorite and King’s entertainment.” He put a disgusting, suggestive twist on the word and I shrank—but then I remembered how he’d laughed when I was thrown off my line, and the light in his eyes when he knew he’d beat me to the last rope, and I clenched my hands to fists too.

“It’s not my fault you broke the rules. I didn’t ask you to—”

“Oh, I bet you ask for a lot—”

“Shut up!” I hissed, quivering with a toxic mix of rage and fear. “That’s not true!”

He huffed and shot me a knowing look. He was almost at my side now.

I would have moved, gotten out of his way, but I didn’t know which aisle his tack room was in, and I was worried I’d just step into his path, so I folded my arms across my chest and stood my ground, praying he couldn’t see me shake.

When he reached my side he muttered a curse and shook his head and looked like he would continue past—but then he stopped and turned to face me, his jaw tight.

“I should have known you were nothing but a royal whore dressed in dragon leathers. At least the rest of them know now—”

The slap came from nowhere. I didn’t consider it. But he barely flinched when I left a red-handprint on his cheek and the crack echoed through the stable. A dragon groaned somewhere deeper in the building and a door rumbled on its sliders. But I didn’t take my eyes off of him.

Faren stared at me with pure malice in his eyes. Flames of rage burning.

‘Bren, just breathe. Help is coming— ’

“Fuck. Off!” I screamed at him. I wanted to push him away, but I didn’t want to touch him. I wanted to humiliate him, yet I wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted to see him shamed, yet wanted to be nowhere near those raging eyes and strong hands balled into fists.

I was terrified. And also so fucking angry.

Faren offered a malicious grin. “That sounds more like your game.”

“You have n-no right to say those things just because you were p-punished for—”

I flinched when he stepped up on me, towering over me and spat through his teeth. “Because you open your legs for the King, my training gets delayed three fucking months. I didn’t do anything wrong—but I’m getting punished for not falling at your feet like the rest of the fucking Furyknights—”

“What?!”

“Don’t stare at me like I’m the villain here when you’ve arrived where you don’t belong and aren’t wanted by anyone but some old pervert King. This is my life!” he roared.

“It’s mine, too!”

“That is such bullshit!” Spittle landed on my face because he spat the word with such fury, his teeth clenched and lips peeled back, eyes wild.

“No, it’s not! I was Chosen! I’m going to be a Furyknight—”

“You can’t even fucking harness a dragon, yet no one’s allowed to touch you.” His arms flew wide, gesticulating as he roared at me. “They pass you for First Rank when you don’t even finish the task—”

“Because you stole my banner!”

“I didn’t touch a fucking thing!” he roared, shoving me backwards, his hand on my chest, the flat of his palm pressed just above my breasts, pinning me back against the stable wall.

My head spun when it cracked back against the stone, and despair roiled through me.

But my body crackled with fear. Heart pounding, I clawed at his hand, grateful he hadn’t cut off my air.

But as I scrabbled at his grip, cursing at him to let me go, he just narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“A real Furyknight could fight me,” he sneered. “A real Furyknight wouldn’t scratch like a cat. He’d put me on my ass and—”

“I’m glad you understand that.” The voice was low, dark, and seething—and immediately followed by a familiar fist that plowed into the side of Faren’s jaw below his ear, sending him staggering down the aisle and away from me.