Page 195 of Ashborne: Defiance

And she took my breath away.

So strong. So bright, and clever. And getting physically stronger, too. I’d seen it last night, though I’d never remind her of it. The sinews in her limbs growing firmer. The muscles more defined. Her shoulders slightly broader and flatter than they’d been three weeks ago. Her arms still very trim, but muscles carving when she moved.

When she and Bren got up from the table and turned, my eyes dropped to the firm rounds of her seat under the leathers and my body sang.

I cursed at the rising desire and wanted to curse the dragons for theirs. This wasn’t the time!

But my eyes still followed her. Which meant, when she turned her head as Bren opened the door into the courtyard, she found me. Staring.

She gave me a small, sad smile.

I nodded.

Thank God. Thank God, she’d already beaten the first hurdle. She would be well.

I’d make sure of it.

She would cry. She would have fearful nights. She would question herself. But she was strong, and courageous, and a fighter—whether she realized it or not. She would make it through this.

The sound of a nearby throat clearing caught my attention.

Ronen sat beside me, scraping his plate clean.

“What?” I asked, irritated.

Gil and Oros were getting up from the table. The others had left, except Harle, who stood a few feet away, holding his dirty plate, smiling as he spoke to one of the serving girls.

Ronen swallowed his final mouthful and pushed out his chair as he stood. “Walk with me,” he said abruptly.

I bristled. He thought I’d done something with Grace last night. Taken advantage.

I would let him know, in no uncertain terms, that that was not the case. But I had enough presence of mind not to have that argument here.

So, once we’d stacked our dirty plates, I followed him out, waiting until we were clear of the others in clusters and pairs in the courtyard outside, on the walk to the barracks, before I spoke.

“No matter what you’re telling yourself, it isn’t—”

“You have a meeting with General Arsen. Right now,” he said simply.

I snapped my head to look at him. “What for?”

Ronen’s brows rose. “You think he tells me? I just know I received orders to send you to his office the moment you were done with the meal. For the rest, you’ll have to ask him.”

“That’s it?”

Ronen stopped walking and frowned at me. “You were expecting more?”

“I wasn’t expecting anything at all.”

“Then I suggest you take the order. Now.”

“Right. Uh, right.” I turned from him, striding back to the path we’d passed that would cut across to the officer’s building, my chest tight.

Why would Donavyn want to see me? It must be something to do with the Shadowfang. I scanned through the previous days, but couldn’t recall anything I’d done—except cover a murder, I supposed—that would anger Donavyn, or create cause for him to discipline me directly.

Then, the conversation I’d had with him at the last Shadowfang meeting swam to mind and I tensed.

Send me to Fyrehold.