Page 119 of Flameborne: Chosen
But she couldn’t justdisappear!
For the dozenth time tonight, I cursed myself. I shouldn’t be here personally. But Ididhave 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 aboutwhy.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 wasdrivenforward.
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 dearGod.
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 fuckingFlameborne?
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 fuckingwrong.
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. Couldanyperson 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 toworryingabout 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 formyembarrassment.
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.
