Page 15 of A City of Flames

He turns halfway as if he’s done analyzing me. I can’t help but clench my jaw and spew out, “With all due respect, my father was an excellent venator. I don’t think he ever mentioned you being up there, regardless of titles.”

He stops, slowly looking back at me as his mocking smile ceases too. I’ve ticked him off. He can see I’m not backing down, making his eye twitch before glancing at my left hand. “I don’t recall that being part of the livery.”

“And I don’t recall the venators being so sensitive about their attires.”

Freya’s body goes rigid beside me as general Erion’s ears burn bright red. His brown eyes cold and deadly narrow and like an animal snatching its prey, he grabs me, yanking the glove off. Deft fingers harden on my wrist as he tilts it around, so my palm faces upwards.

Don’t cause more of a scene than you already have. I feel the need to remind myself as I exhale harshly through my nose and some trainee’s snicker in the background. I don’t look at anyone except the general. My brows lower as his gaze journeys the uneven skin on my palm, leading up to my forearm.

“I can see why you kept it covered,” he murmurs, hinting at a cruel smile.

With my other hand, I curl my fingers inward, tight enough I might as well cut through flesh. I then peek over at Lorcan. He isn’t looking at me, but at my scar, a bleak stare on his face.

Gritting my teeth, I glare back at the general, but as I’m about to pull my hand out of his grip, he raises my arm in the air.

“This,” he says, glancing at the others. “This! Is a prime example of what could happen to any of you if you don’t keep your mouth shut.” He drops my arm forcefully, looking at me one last time before saying, “Everyone dismissed.”

I clasp my hand as he strolls off alongside other venators. Pleased with himself and still holding onto my glove, I know he has no intention of giving it back.

Cautiously gazing around me, I see trainees whisper to one another, laughing while Freya shoots me an apologetic look. She parts her mouth, seeming like she wants to say something, but I shake my head, signaling it’s okay, and walk off.

Using my right, dominant hand, I bend my wrist toward my forearm, holding a throwing knife. I swing it across the field where the target dummy lies ahead and tilt my head in satisfaction at how it almost hits the center.

I try forgetting about general Erion, and though he’d not appeared out here again, anger still curls in my gut over what happened.

Except for some of it... some of it was directed at Lorcan. I hate I felt that way, but he’d only stared, and perhaps it was idiotic of me to imagine he’d stand up for me, but I did think he would, just how he’d done with my brother.

My chest rises with each slow breath I take. Glancing down at the side table full of daggers, I remember how Ivarron had taught me so much. I preferred using blades even if I’d practiced with crossbows and all sorts—

“Miss Ambrose.”

I still.

Oh, Solaris and Crello, save me.

The rugged voice is one I’d become all too familiar with already... Lorcan’s.

Clearing my throat and not looking back once, I reply with, “Deputy.”

“I apologize for earlier. The general meant no harm. You shouldn’t take what he says or does to the heart. It’s how he is with anyone.”

“I don’t take anything to heart.” My eyes focus on the target again, hiding how what I’ve said is a lie. I do take things to heart at times, but with the general, it’s different. He’d found a way to disrespect me.

“If I’m honest with you, Miss Ambrose.” Lorcan’s presence seems to get closer. I do not need this right now. “I thought you were ready to leap forward and attack him.”

“I’m no animal, waiting for when I’m next provoked.” At least not all the time.

He hums thoughtfully, whereafter seconds of silence go by. I even think he’s left until— “What caused that scar of yours?”

I close my eyes and inhale. The screeching metal of swords as they clash rings at the far end. “I’d ask the same about yours,” I say, picking up a double-edged blade. “It seems mine is hideous to the general. I didn’t see him mention your hand.”

“Well, I’ve never spoken back to him, Miss Ambrose.”

I huff, whirling around to meet his hardened eyes. “Is the second in command supposed to distract trainees?”

His brow lifts at the use of distract, and I realize that must have come across differently to him.

I take a breath, seeing fit that I should answer like a normal person. “A dragon did it... right when my father died. Its talon sliced along my arm up to my palm before it fled.” It feels odd saying this. I’ve never opened up properly to anyone, not even on my favorite color unless it were my brothers.

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