Page 85 of Of Flames and Fallacies

If I struggled pretending to be his sister before...gods, was I struggling now. Every active effort to not stare at him and reminisce of our previous night was a strain.

Daeja’s eyes narrow in comprehension. “The Red One.”

She closes the gap between us, and I pull her down toward me, leaning my forehead against hers. My eyes fall closed, and my breath deepens. I rub her favorite spot under her chin, and a purr roars to life in her throat. It’s so much deeper and rougher…my skin quakes at the thunder of her rumbling. I pull my head back, and her glassy white eyes meet mine. Her breathy exhale blasts my hair back from my face.

“Will the Red One come with us to the Dragon Lands?”

“Yes, he’ll come with us. Cole thinks it’s about a three to four days’ trek from here to the border. Once we have a map, we’ll have a better idea of what our path will be.”

She staggers back from me with dragged blinks and sneezes. Dragon snot splatters my face, and I wipe it off with my hand.

She ducks her head.“Sorry.”

I fling the fluids off my hand onto the ground. If I fall into the lake tonight, it’d save me from a bath. Although, with our recent flight exercises, I have yet to fall into the lake again.

Yet.

My days have mostly consisted of training. Well, more like cleaning and errands with Marge. And practicing sparring in the afternoons. A few days ago, we worked on shield work. Unsurprising to me, I struggled to keep a shield up with one forearm and swing a sword with the other.

A separate day we worked on archery. As I drew the string back, the familiar wobble of my arm clutching the bow resurfaced. Immediately, I remembered the last time I attempted it: with Cole wrapped around me, his breathwhispered against my neck after he restored and gifted me my mother’s bow. After I released the arrow, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder at Cole. He was already watching with a grin, as if he was remembering it, too. And just like all my previous attempts, I pathetically missed the target.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Since injuring Nolan’s leg, Darian had been moderately tame. Whatever hold Marge had over him was clearly convincing. Then again, if Marge had so much as threatened me, I would have done cartwheels naked through the center of camp if she demanded me to.

Today is the first time we spar with nothing but our fists and feet. I still struggle to convince Archie to use more force against me. I’ve reminded him time and time again holding back doesn’t do me any favors—I have to learn somehow. While every day seems a little bit better, he’s still taking it easy on me.

“I challenge.” Darian’s voice rings out across the clearing as he nears the center where Archie and I concluded sparring. Darian sure loves to make a scene and do whatever he can to piss Cole off.

Cole glares. “No.”

Darian laughs. “Quite the protective big brother, aren’t you Red?”

“I mean it,” Cole growls. A muscle jumps in his jaw, and everyone in the crowd falls silent at the uncharacteristic threat in Cole’s voice.

“It’s fine, Cole. I can handle it myself,” I attempt to diffuse the situation. “Besides, last time we were in this circle I got the win, remember?”

Feigning confidence, I stare Darian down with clenched fists and hope it’s enough to convince everyone else I’m not scared. Maybe even myself.

“I love the confidence in this one,” Darian goads.

I jut my chin at Cole, irritated he still hasn’t moved from his spot. Reluctantly, he drops back to the edge of the audience. Rather than taking a seat like many of the onlookers, he stands next to Archie, the both of them at the ready. Like at any moment they’ll spring to my aid.

I center my breath and power my stance, clenching my hands into fists. Darian lazily walks around me, his hands open and relaxed. But the way he stalks circles around me—determination lining his steps—it’s as if he’s hunting me. A hidden hunger burns in his eyes, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks and here I am—an easy catch.

I search for a way to get myself out of this situation. With wolves, you raise your arms above your head to make yourself larger and intimidating. And with bears, you remain calm and slink away, as running will trigger their instincts. I take the latter approach and stare back, stillness rooting my feet to the ground despite every nerve screaming at me to run. My skin crawls every time he slips out of my periphery and slinks behind me, but I refuse to play his game by following his every move.

He wants me to be scared.

He wants me riled up.

As soon as I give into his intimidation is when he’ll strike. I just know it.

Hushed questions rise in the crowd, and confused looks are exchanged as Darian circles me again and again.

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