Page 22 of A City of Flames

Anger suddenly dominates my mind, and I bite back my tongue, not wanting to give in. But I can’t seem to when I blurt out, “I’ve managed to trap thousands of creatures before, killed a rümen firsthand without any remorse, stood in front of an Ardenti with nothing but a goblet. What makes you think I can’t do any of that to you in this little competition of yours?”

Three blinks, three blinks, and then a smile grows on his lips, beaming like sunrays on his warm bronze skin. “Wow,” he breathes, and the questioning frown on my face doesn’t leave as he starts clapping slowly. “I mean, I was kidding about the competition, but you’re unmerciful. I like it!”

I keep quiet. Not even a laugh comes out. I’m sure I’m also glaring at him.

“Well, aren’t you just a doll to be around?” He wiggles a finger in my face. “Look at that smile.”

Such regret I have for thanking him. “Are you always like this?” I slap his hand away.

“Like what?”

“Childish?”

He tilts his head, looking upward in thought. “Certain days, I can be an adult.” Soft brown eyes dart back down to me. “Others... I choose not to. Or even some days I do both, I call it multi-tasking.”

That is just...I have no words truly.

Rydan smiles innocently at the concern written all over my face and pats my head, walking past but not before a whisper comes from him, “See you in training. Don’t forget to keep your competitors close, Ambrose.”

I glance over my shoulder and glower as he salutes, disappearing into the corners of the dark hallway. Part of me is glad he’s gone. The other is dreading the idea I’ll be seeing him every day and possibly for years if we both swear in as official venators. After a few minutes of us talking, he already seemed like a right pain in my existence. Yet again, I’ve managed to live under the same roof as Iker for twenty-one years. I should be used to handling men like him.

“Nara!” Freya’s squeals make me jolt as she appears in front of me, linking her arm with mine. “Excited to see the queen tomorrow?”

Shit, the queen. “That’s tomorrow?”

Freya nods rapidly as we fall into step, down the halls. “I told Link how I am still petrified. I’ve seen her since I was but just a child, and yet I feel like heading straight to the toilets each time she comes. Do you ever feel that way when you get nervous? Or do you not get nervous? You seem like the type not to get skittish.”

I fold in my lips to hide a smile—the smile I dared not show Rydan—because, during my short time here, I’ve become fond of Freya’s ingenuous talks. Although I find it difficult adjusting to any friendship, I feel the most at ease with her, even Link. Luckily, I haven’t driven them away. And when I’d finally told Freya I was a trapper, she only gasped and hugged me before saying how ‘marvelous’ that must have been.

“If I’m honest, I do get nervous at times,” I tell her. “But I’ll let you in on a secret.”

Freya’s doe eyes go wide in anticipation as I whisper, “You just have to imagine your worst enemy running through the streets being chased by a rümen... naked.”

She tips her head back with a laugh. “Oh, you are absolutely strange, Nara, and I adore you for it.” She hums with the remnants of a smile still on her lips. “Except one issue, I have no enemies.”

“Then,” I drag the word. “We’ll have to introduce you to some.”

“Bested you once again, Link,” I pant the following morning, extending my palm out to him after we’ve been at it in hand-to-hand combat. Ever since Freya and I sat with him for meals, he’s grown accustomed to us. He rarely speaks, but neither do I in comparison to Freya.

He wheezes, clutching his chest as he takes my hand, and I help him up. “How did you learn to fight like that?”

“I didn’t.” Except that I did with Idris. He never classified it as learning to fight. It was more of when we weren’t arguing; he’d show me counterattacks. I assume it was his way to teach me how to defend myself despite how protective he is. “Shall we go once more?” I reposition myself in a fighting stance, raising my dominant fist in front of my face and the other by the side of my head. Full of energy, I bounce around.

Link’s eyes go wide. A hesitation on his part as he scratches the nape of his neck where the armor meets him. “I think...” he says before his eyes travel to the other side of the field. I observe how he’s now staring at Freya, drawing her bowstring back as she focuses on the target. “I think I will take a break instead,” he continues shyly just as she shoots it.

I drop my fists and narrow my eyes at him. “Alright,” I say, unable to hide the suspicion in my voice as Link lowers his gaze and stumbles over his legs. He jogs towards Freya, and I tilt my head at them both.

I’d smile over Freya’s bright laugh echoing the training grounds as soon as she sees Link. However, I can’t help looking to the far right of them where Rydan is cutting the air with his sword rather dramatically.

I scoff, crossing my arms at his foolishness until weapons and chatter fall silent. Even Rydan stops what he is doing and turns to the entrance of the weaponry room.

One by one, everyone looks that way where the queen steps out. I inhale sharply as my eyes journey the square neckline and cap sleeves of her samite dress, showcasing her deep mahogany skin. Thick layers of gown flow behind, creating a lake of pure gold silk as coal-black hair cascades in waves down her bodice. A crown fitted with glittered gilt jewels sits atop, resembling flames as they come to a point. Intimidatingly beautiful, Link had said, and he is not wrong. The queen Sarilyn Orcharian, as everyone knew her, excels in elegance. Not a doubt about that.

One thing that consistently causes my curiosity to reign high is how the queen has never wed, not from what I’d learned before. All I know is that there is no family heritage either, only her.

Beside her stand Lorcan and the general, along with another woman dressed in a cool orange-toned kirtle, whom I imagine is her lady in wait. Venators follow behind, guarding every movement.

The queen makes a hand gesture towards us all, and already I can see trainees resuming what they were doing, this time showing off whatever skills they might have. Adriel and Oran start sword fighting from the left, and anyone can gather that they are trying immensely to impress the queen. She does not even peek their way as I roll my eyes at them and stroll to where the practice dummies and daggers are.

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