“Yes,” I muttered. I blew out a breath and dropped my hands, staring at the rafters as I assessed my body—which was sore, but not alarmingly so. I blinked rapidly to clear my sight, and the threat of frustrated tears.
He was just too fucking strong.
Gil, leaned over to check me, then offered one calloused hand. He’d shorn his head recently, and it still surprised me. It made his warm, brown eyes look bigger, especially with his brows up like that, in a question.
I clapped my palm into his, bracing as his hand engulfed mine and he pulled me to my feet.
The others clapped or teased, telling Gil I’d gone easy on him, but he held my arm and made sure I was solid on my feet before he let me go.
“You’re lasting longer and getting faster. It’s all good, Bren. Don’t get discouraged,” he said under the noise of our brothers calling jokes and clapping.
I thanked him grimly, but swallowed back a lump in my throat that was half-fury, and half-embarrassment.
I’d been trained in basic hand-to-hand techniques during my Flameborne days. But everyone—including me—had assumed I’d be raised to a Flyer, if I was pinned at all. The bulk of my training hadn’t been focused on ground combat. I was already behind even the newest Furyknights, and physically weaker than them. But now I was supposed to become some kind of weapon?
If my brothers were the kinds of men I’d be fighting in the field, I was fucked.
“Do you want some advice?” he asked quietly.
“Sure.”
“Get good at wearing a blade discreetly, and drawing your weapon. You already know how to use it.”
“Barely.”
“So, practice when you’re alone. Always keep a harness knife on you—no one will think twice about that. And make sure you’ve gotten handy at drawing it quickly. Sometimes all you need to beat a bigger foe is a serious threat.”
I looked at him and he smiled.
“I’ll try,” I said wearily.
Gil clapped my shoulder as I turned away, looking for water for my parched throat while two other Shadowfang took their places on the mat.
With a limp waterskin in my hand and everyone now distracted by the new round of sparring, I let my body slump back against the wall, took a deep drink, and had an honest moment with myself.
I tried to look past the vital, sweaty bodies of the men wrestling on the mats—even the smallest of them outweighing me by fifty pounds, at least—and assess the whole picture.
Had I been wrong to accept the vow to the Shadowfang?
I scanned the hall and shook my head.
No. No, I wasn’t wrong. But I had a damned hard road ahead of me. Sometimes I just wished I had a moment to breathe and take it all in. Every now and again I looked around and it would hit me where I was.
The Academy buildings had been built centuries earlier by dragons working with their bonded men. They’d flamed rock until it was molten, then formed it into these stunning, obsidian buildings that were so beautiful, and so intimidating. The black walls were thick and impenetrable, but glossy, and loomed several stories tall.
This training hall was one of the few buildings that they’d formed as a single space with towering ceilings. Without multiple floors, when the sun shone directly on the walls, they glowed dimly, turning that black, glassy stone into massive, red-black jewels.
The men were so accustomed to these surroundings, I don’t think they commented on them anymore. But I still found myself awed when I took a moment to think about where I was, and what I’d done.
I desperately wanted to succeed here. This job—flying with Akhane, solving problems,finding enemies, and proving myself—was fulfilling in ways I couldn’t express with words.
And to have found Donavyn as well…
My body fluttered just thinking about him. It had now been almost fifteen hours since I’d seen my mate, and there was a clench of dread in my belly that would soon turn into a deep ache. If I ignored it, my body grew agitated—which communicated to my dragon.
In short, I needed to see Donavyn. Soon.
But even with that driving force pressing at my spine, I didn’t move. Because I knew the moment I saw him, the first thing he’d ask was how the training had gone this evening. And then I’d have to admit the truth.
