Page 54 of A City of Flames

“I’d advise you get back to your chambers, Miss Ambrose,” an order from the general.

I cut my gaze from him to Lorcan as he closes his eyes and exhales a frustrated sigh. Biting my tongue, I slowly look back, realizing there’s no winning against the general, and Lorcan wouldn’t—won’t defy him.

The general doesn’t budge from the doorway, but I maintain a fixed stare on him as I walk past and out of the chambers.

* * *

It took a few days for everything to return to normality. For most, this was just a blip in their life. Others had lost homes, lives. And the wall carved with names of the deceased venators grew in numbers.

Even with the queen’s proclamation over the castle balcony that one day, shifters will torment mortal lives no more, didn’t settle the high spirited.

“Something seems to be bothering you lately,” Rydan says beside me with Link next to him as we stop patrolling near some jewelers store owners fixing the cracked doorways.

A lot is bothering me lately. The venator trials, the Golden Thief or Darius in this case. Knowing something is hidden deep in the city of Emberwell, these new creatures...

“How do you know what bothers me and what doesn’t?” I ask Rydan as I look at him. “Last I checked, I barely even know you.”

He ignores that statement and hums knowingly. “Is it Lorcy?”

A dip in my chest unnerves me, and my brows curl upward, ready to become defensive towards that idea. Rydan, though, beats me to it as he carries on, “It’s certainly obvious he’s lusting for you—”

“Rydan!” I whisper harshly, wishing we weren’t in public so I could smack his head.

“Maybe Nara is facing the stress of the venator trials approaching.” Link tries to amend, smiling awkwardly at me.

“I think that is more you, Link,” Rydan looks pointedly. “You go pale whenever the general comments on it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You almost spilled your guts onto the training grounds when the general said ‘dragon.’”

“I’d overeaten that day.”

“You’re stuttering right now—”

This is getting ridiculous.

I shake my head, ignoring the two, although grateful the attention has been taken off me. Gazing straight ahead, I look towards the city’s center when three men get out of a carriage by the stables.

Paints of all colors coat the dark green tunic, and my eyes widen in hope.

Can it be?

“Illias?” I say, and when he spots me from afar, I realize it’s truly him. Illias, Idris, and Iker. A grin stretches across my face as I shout this time, “Illias!” And sprint straight away, bumping into the occasional civilian and yelling out apologies.

I take Illias by surprise as I drag him down into an embrace, squeezing him around the neck.

They’re here. They’re actually here.

Not a dream or something I’m imagining after everything that’s happened. It’s them.

“What are you all doing here?” I let go and do the same to Iker, then Idris.

While Illias and Iker are all smiles, Idris’s hard stare lingers on me, the missing glove over my scar and the venator attire, as I step away from him. His hair passes his shoulder now, but his face... the darkness under his azure eyes makes it known he’s tired.

I pray Ivarron hasn’t been as hard on him as he had been with me most days when trapping.

“We wanted to surprise you,” Iker says, and I pull a face at the grumpiness of his tone.

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