Page 88 of A City of Flames

Distantly, I nod at Leira, still remembering how I’d yanked my arm away before she could finish.

“Well, sometimes,” she says, low and timid as she creeps forward. “And not often we have visions, but unlike a seer, we tend to forget it quite quickly.” Sighing, she adds, “What I want to say is fate is a hard thing to tamper with, and what I saw might be long forgotten, but the words that remained have not stopped repeating itself inside my mind.” She latches onto my gaze. “The one to bear the tides and stars is your path Nara... your destiny without doom.” Her fingers splay across my heart, and I know my breathing has stilled. “The key to freedom.”

Stunned into silence, I stare at her as she withdraws her hand and wishes me good luck with the shifter. I’m trying to make out a word, a sentence, anything normal but Freya’s beginning to tug me by the arm into the tavern. We make it outside, where the narrow streets and buildings hide the evening sun. I root myself to the floor just by the doors and stand behind Freya as she glances at the busy streets ahead. Her hands on her hips make me want to wince. With what Leira had said just then and what I’d spewed out to Freya today, I suspect she will be mad.

“Freya, I—” I start, but she whirls to face me and raises her hand.

“Look, I still don’t understand much of anything but... I know that I can’t stand one more single dragon fight or killing, I—” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes then opening. “For the longest time I’ve not felt like I belonged there, being what my father wants me to be, I’d rather escape it; therefore, I just want you to know I’m on your side, for anything and if it means helping you talk to this shifter then I’ll do whatever it takes—”

I throw my arms around her before she can finish, sending her tumbling a few steps back. “Thank you,” I whisper and close my eyes because I never knew how much I needed her support.

A friend, loyal and brave whom I’ve never had in my life before.

She smiles as we separate, and her arm hooks around my elbow. “Who knows, maybe helping you might be my true calling.” We bump our heads together in amusement, finally moving. “Now I need you to guide me through everything again because how on Solaris almighty did you form a friendship with the Golden Thief?”

I chuckle quietly. “It’s not a friendship. It’s more hatred and a strong desire to scratch his face and watch him cry over it.”

Freya stops, turning me to look at her widened gaze. “That’s quite specific.”

“Exactly.” My smile is psychotic. “Now come on, the Draggards isn’t a safe place to be, and we’ve been gone too long—shit.”

My legs stop working as I spot unmistakable copper hair, armor, and the eyes of strength and green thread.

Freya tries to get me to move, but it’s like I’m weighed down by pillars as Lorcan notices us and strolls through the crowded pathways. “Nara.” He nods at me then looks to my right. “Freya. What are you both doing here?”

“We could ask you the same thing.” Freya’s grip on my arm tightens.

Lorcan’s lip twitches enough to hint at a smile over Freya’s interrogatory tone. “Some are reporting a possible shifter around here.”

“Right, that makes sense,” Freya mutters to herself. Luckily Lorcan doesn’t notice my eyes growing wide as I wonder if that possible shifter refers to Archer. The queen knows it was Darius whom I danced with at the ball, but I don’t think she’s mentioned it to anyone.

“Any luck?” I ask, hoping to mask my apprehension.

“Not yet.” He glances behind him at three other venators eyeing each person—likely witches—with disgust. I almost crumble and have the urge to treat them the same, even if I am training to be one.

“Well,” Freya chimes in, her throat straining as she’s able to jerk me with her. “We should go, training and whatnot—”

“I was hoping I could talk to you?” Lorcan doesn’t move from his position, staring at me, only me.

My eyes slide to the crest on his chest, a dragon wrapped in flames. A sting reverberates through my heart, and though I want to shake my head to rid the memory of the Ardenti, I simply can’t.

I look at Freya. Her face is in a half grimace of worry before I nod at her to make sure it’s fine.

She clears her throat, flitting her gaze between Lorcan and me. “I will—I will wait for you over there.”

I’m struck with silence as Freya leaves, and putting on a mask of coolness, I ask, “Have I done something wrong?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Formalities seem to return fast for you, don’t they?”

I keep my face neutral.

Defeated, he sighs. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The calm front fails me, my shoulders droop, and I rush to place that impassive wall back up. Lorcan, from the start, has shown how much he cares for me, but how can I tell him nothing is okay. How can I say it without mentioning everything that’s happened? He’s killed hundreds of dragons, spoken of fledglings, while I can’t bear the idea of what I did today.

“Other than feeling hungry, I’m...” I lie, trailing off as he looks at my hands, and I mildly panic, wondering if I hadn’t gotten all the blood off, but when I drop my eyes to them, I realize he’s noticed I don’t have my glove on. I’d not worn it this morning. In truth, it’d slipped my mind. Hiding it with my cloak, I force a smile. “I’m doing great for someone who will face the venator trials soon enough.”

With a vague frown, he lifts his eyes at me. “As a favorite contender to pass it all.”

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