Page 17 of A City of Flames

“If he’s your father and the general, why do you reside in the common rooms of the barracks?”

She sighs deeply, looking back to the open doors leading inside the weapons room then at me. It’s quiet before she says, “I grew up here, never having explored the city on my own terms. My father trained me well, thinking I wanted to become a venator. Instead, I’d always refuse up until the age of eighteen where I told him I wanted freedom.”

Despite differences, I understand the feeling of wanting freedom.

“We’ve never been close, but he made me a proposition: I’d be free to go live my life as I please, and if by the time I turned twenty, I hadn’t found a purpose, I was to go back. But this time train to be... them.” Her eyes dart to Lorcan, and all the leaders starting to sword fight against each other. “I do not get special treatment, nor would I want it anyway.”

My heart tightens as if it’d been twisted a thousand times for her. General Erion didn’t so much as bat an eyelid for his daughter when she was beside me. He treated her like the rest of us. I wondered how someone so joyful and bright could have a father such as the general.

I open my mouth, wanting to tell her how it doesn’t matter to me who she is or not, but two young men near the bushes on the far right appear to be cornering another man.

“Is everything—” Freya starts, looking behind her when I storm past.

I’m not sure what’s willing me to go over to them but seeing how they are pushing him reminds me of the times I’d have to defend my brothers back home.

I stop just a few meters away from them. The two men, one with long ebony hair and the other’s ending just below his chin in a dark auburn gleam, swear and move a sword around in the air. The other male tries to grab it before he’s pushed by the other.

“Give it back to him,” I order, and they all turn to look at me.

“This doesn’t concern you,” says the one with ebony hair. “Isn’t that right, Link?”

The man whose name is Link, the person they’d taken the sword from, doesn’t look my way. He seems to be far more interested in the ground below while his golden-brown hair—wavy and layered moves briskly as he shakes his head.

Rotten bullies.

“And why might it not concern me?” I ask once the two dismiss me as if I’m nothing but a piece of useless lint to them.

This time the auburn-haired man creeps towards me, his pale moon complexion just like his friend dulls. “Listen,” he says. “I suggest you walk away, princess—” He reaches his bony hand over to my hip and, knowing where he wanted to slide it down to, I fist my hand around his index and middle finger, tilting them at an angle it should never be slanted at.

He yelps as his friend comes to his aid but stops, staggering back when I lift the blade I still have on me at him.

“Lovely hand you got there,” I say with such calmness you would think we’re having a simple conversation. He whimpers, bending over slightly as the bones on his fingers begin to click under my own. “Would hate for it to break.”

Grass crunches from behind before Freya is next to me. “Oh, my—Nara.”

“Give. It. Back,” I spit, tightening my grip so far that my own knuckles turn white.

His sunken face grows paler than it already is as he gestures his head for the other to hand the sword back. Reluctantly he does as he’s told.

“Go.” I motion my chin to Link once he’s got a hold of it. His eyes wide, a crystal blue color, he looks at me before bowing his head and jogging away.

As soon as Link’s out of sight, I let go of the hand. The man winces, clutching his fingers within his grasp. His lips thin out, and eyes made of grey and moss green colors send me a deathly glare, one that screams I’ve made the biggest mistake ever crossing him.

I don’t cower, and give him a blank stare before they both retract, walking away though never breaking eye contact with me.

“Well,” Freya exhales, looking at them. “That’s one way to start your first day of training.”

* * *

“I feel that we should sit with him,” Freya suggests, glancing towards Link, who is sitting on one of the tables along with his supper. Since I’d helped him last week, Freya mentioned he’s a quiet person, having never spoken to many.

“I don’t think he wants company,” I comment back, holding onto my plate of venison. Every day so far, he looks to enjoy being alone during meals.

I don’t blame him, I would too.

“How can he not!” Shaking her head, Freya links an arm around mine. “Come.” She drags me across the mess hall, and even if I am to object, I don’t think she’ll let me because we’re already by his table.

Link doesn’t look up at us, causing Freya to clear her throat. “Hello.” She smiles. Link’s eyes finally drift to her, but he keeps wordless as she says, “Mind if we sit here?”

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