Page 12 of A City of Flames

I look towards the door then him and his glowing forest eyes, stern but not cold. When he tilts his head, waiting for me to say something... anything, I clear my throat. “Thank you,” I mutter, wanting to scowl at myself over how dense I must have looked staring at him.

The side of his lip curls by a small fraction. “I’ll see you in training first thing in the morning—” He pauses, lowering his voice as he says, “Miss Ambrose.”

I say nothing as he turns and walks down the halls. His build and grace practically flows out of him like second nature. Frowning at that unusual thought of mine, I grip the cool metal doorknob and go inside.

Lavender fills the elongated room as my eyes journey to the six single beds. There are three on each side, the oak-panel headboards like ones back home and a doorless archway where I gather the washroom is. I bunch my lips to the side, seeing how no one is in here.

Strange, I expected not to be alone.

The last bit of sun stretches across the wooden flooring as I step forward, unbuckling my sheath and dropping it onto the first bed. My carving falls out of it, along with the vial of faerie blood.

Solaris, I’d forgotten to leave that behind.

I rush to it, trying to place it back inside the pocket, when soft footsteps approach from the left corner until it stills behind me.

Seeing as I was initially alone, my instincts to protect myself kick in. As I would have if we ever got creatures such as goblins raiding our cottage back home, my hand carefully glides down to the dagger inside the scabbard.

In no less than a second, I spin, pointing it out in front and glaring at whoever I’ll have to defend myself from. However, my expression flattens into wide-eyed embarrassment as I find myself facing a stunning woman.

“Solaris!” She clasps a dainty, deep-bronze hand to her chest. “Why on earth are you holding a blade as if you’re about to stab me?”

“Sorry,” I blurt out, releasing the dagger back onto the bed. “It’s just a habit. You never know when something—someone might attack.” Each word that I say sounds more absurd than the last.

She laughs, dimples caving her cheeks, and the curve of her upper lip is sharp and prominent. “If it helps, I don’t think there’s ever been an attacker or intruder in the barracks before. If there was, we trainees have never known about—” She cuts herself off with a gasp. “Are you rooming with me? Oh, how wonderful if so! I’ve been entirely on my own since the winter months, and it’s been ever so dreary.”

I quickly glance at the other beds and trunks by the edge in. “There’s no other occupants?”

“Oh, there was.” She purses her lips. “But many didn’t want to room with me.” Her solemn gaze drifts behind me to the sheath splayed on top of the bed, and before I can ask her the reason as to what she’d said, her hands reach for my carving. “What is this?” She examines it as my eyes go round, not expecting her to roll it between her palms like some toy. “It’s gorgeous! Did you make it?”

Give it back, give it back, give it back.

“No—” I grab it as it slips through her fingers and retrieve it against my chest far too protectively. An overreaction I didn’t mean to do, but it’s the single form of luck I’ve had for years. I never leave without it.

She tips her head to the side, and obsidian coils flow down to her slim waist—thinner than my curvaceous figure—framing her delicate face and high cheekbones. “What does the R stand for?”

“I’m not sure.” I sigh, running my thumb over the engraving before putting it away. “Someone’s name, I presume.”

“I’m Freya, by the way,” she changes subjects, and I notice how her dark brown eyes have a ring of green around the iris. She looks to be around my age, albeit a foot shorter than me. “Don’t mind the mess. I was knitting in my spare time. Do you like it?” She gestures to the other side of the room, where one of the bed quilts shines in purple lace with a pile of wool over it; what it is, I can’t quite make out. How I didn’t notice all of that when I entered baffles me.

“I—” I’m interrupted before I can attempt a compliment.

“It’s not my best work—wait, how rude of me.” She lightly taps her forehead. “I didn’t ask of your name or where you’re from, although assuming by the choice of clothing, you must be from the outskirts!”

I frown, glancing at my black tunic—a tear at the corner and strawberry pie residue in the middle. In contrast to her purple off-shoulder dress and bodice decorated in lilac flowers, my clothes are not the least bit appealing to the eye. Trying to hide the dirt on my clothes with my maroon cloak, I say, “Naralía though Nara is preferred. I come from down south.”

She nods slowly. “Have you seen much of the city?”

“No, I just got here.” I stifle a yawn.

“Well, that won’t do.” She places a finger on her pointed chin, humming. “I’m taking you out for a tour around the city.”

“Are you allowed?”

“For Solaris’s sake, we’re not prisoners, Nara!” She grins, and I screw my face, fascinated by her bubbly outlook. “Although this might get me in trouble with...” Her words come out as a murmur, not finishing the rest as she waves her hand dismissively. “Come on. We’ll return before curfew.” Tugging at my glove and not questioning it one bit, she yanks me out of the barracks before I can get settled in.

Time had passed once I’d made it back out into the lively city. Freya would spin and skip around with her arms extended at the sides when street music drummed loudly. I stared back whenever she’d tell me to join her. I’d never had friends before, nor did I consider Freya to be one already. Still, her cheerful mood was rather... contagious. Not at all someone I’d ever think to be training for a role as a venator.

On the contrary to my lack of chatter, she enjoyed guiding me through the city, talking about how it’s built along four different districts. The first towards the western side is Lava Grove, where stone townhouses crammed together and outer towns led to the docks that divided our land from the ocean of serenity and borders of Aeris. Then to the eastern side, streets split into three. One named the district of Chrysos known for its clothes suppliers, fine jewelers with gold that shone through stain glass windows luring those of greed and what Freya considered to house snobby rich people.

---