Page 128 of A City of Flames

It hurts seeing her like this. “Freya—”

“Before my mother’s death, he—he used to smile at me, I remember he’d bring me back lilac pearls that I wanted, he—”

“Freya,” I whisper, gaining her attention when she looks straight at me, her shoulders begin to shake, and she cries.

I stand as she runs and wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry,” she says but I don’t know why she’s the one saying that when it’s not her fault. “I said I wouldn’t cry for him but I am.” Her breaths heave out of her in short bursts, and I try and hold in mine again. “Why do I still care for him?”

I don’t think she’s saying it to me, I think she’s saying it to herself. I pull back and shake my head. “Because you are not him.”

Her nose reddens from tears, and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding. I hug her once more before she whispers into my hair, “You should have left with Darius, it’s not safe here.”

“I know,” I say and look at her. “Which is why I need you to listen to what I’m going to ask of you next.”

She nods adamantly and I exhale, looking at the keys. “But first I want to ask you something else.” When I look back at her, she wipes her tears and nods again.

“I know… being a witch means a bond with a dragon.” I recall the moment I was with Darius, his wounds and how they’d healed. “Is it the same for other creatures?”

Freya mulls my question over. I’m not a witch, that I know, but healing Darius and the way all animals come to me like I’m there to protect them? It just makes no sense at all.

“I don’t really get anything when it comes to creatures,” Freya says. “They barely register me if I ever come across one. The only thing I’ve noticed is that I’ve always hated any fight or capture that dealt with dragons, but I’ve only ever gotten a strange feeling like—like I could help someone a few times, like when I met your brothers in Chrysos, or the ball, even the arena fight the other day with Darius.” Her eyes drift to the beds pensively before looking at me. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug, seeing I’m left with more questions than answers. “I was just wondering,” I say, and Freya doesn’t look convinced, but I change subjects and tell her what has to be done before I leave.

Neither Freya nor I sleep the entire night, we talk for hours about our plans and don’t even realize how the sunrise casts rosy hues into our room.

She helps me pack whatever necessities I need into my satchel and rushes me toward the window when rapid knocks sound on the door. We freeze until hearing “Ambrose?” and let out a breath knowing it’s just Rydan.

He knocks again and Freya grimaces, twisting around as she drawls, “She’s not here, remember?”

“Well, how do you plan on informing her that her brothers have arrived already and are downstairs!”

My whole body stiffens.

The satchel in my hand falls and everything I have in it scurries across the floor, carving tools, bread, clothes.

Freya turns to me just as I start to pass her, and I fling the door open. “What?” I say and Rydan’s brows narrow, pointing one finger at me then the other at Freya.

“Frey-Frey, was I just lied to—”

I barge past him, rushing through the corridors, not even noting how Freya is right behind me. I make it down the stairs and all the air sucks out of me as I look at the three of my brothers standing there, glancing around as if careful not to touch or move anything.

Illias is the first to notice me and he smiles, then Idris and Iker spin to face me.

No, they shouldn’t be here, not yet, they are supposed to come on the day of the trials, I was going to come back to make sure that I’d take them with me.

I hardly move my feet as I slowly walk to them. My panicked expression makes Idris frown, and he studies me full of concern.

“What are you doing here?” I ask gazing between the three and the nerves practically ooze out of me.

Iker snorts. “We wanted to surprise you. Your friend Lorcan sent out a carriage for us a few days ago but Idris was too stubborn to come here until he finally gave in.”

“You don’t seem happy to see us?” Illias makes a face as I cut my anxious gaze to him and he leans into Iker whispering, “This feels like the time we tried surprising her when she turned fifteen.”

Iker’s brows rise at that, rubbing the back of his head with a wince. “I’m still recovering from that.”

“What’s wrong?” Idris goes straight to the point, his eyes narrowing as he looks at my fingers still covered in dried blood, he scans me whole before glancing over my shoulder at Freya and they stay on her as I stammer to get my words out. But then a familiar voice grips me at my throat with a rush of fury.

I look to my left as the general clasps his hands in front of him. It’s as if nothing happened last night, he looks the same except for his strained smile. “Miss Ambrose, there you are.”

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