Page 64 of Ashborne: Defiance

22. A Point to Prove

~ VOSKI ~

“I said, I can hunt.” Grace held her hand out for my knife, because she didn’t have one of her own, and we needed meat. We still had days before reaching Vosgaarde, and our rations were almost out. I stared at her extended hand warily.

“Are you certain?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m certain you’re better, but I know I can do it. I can feed myself.”

“You throw knives?”

Her eyes widened. “You can throw them?” she asked breathlessly.

Dear God. Every time I started to think she was accomplished or bold, she revealed how innocent she really was.

“Yes,” I said reluctantly.

“Can you teach me?”

“I can make sure you’re taught as part of your training, if you have an interest or affinity.”

“I do! I mean, I don’t know if I have an affinity. But I’m very interested!”

I scanned her up and down, from the way she naturally held her weight on the balls of her feet, to her bright, avid eyes, fixed on me.

“I’ll talk to your wing leader when you’re assigned a squad. With Koa being red, I’m sure you can receive training.”

She beamed, and clapped her hands.

“Don’t do that,” I said bluntly.

She froze, looking at me like I might shout. Which made my jaw clench. I was only trying to teach her how to be a Furyknight.

“You’ll be working with men. All men,” I said by way of explanation, because most people needed to know why a thing was important. “If you bounce on your toes and clap every time something happens that you like… well, it seems very childish.”

She immediately clasped her hands at her waist and struck an odd posture—spine very straight, knees together, both feet turned out.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You said don’t bounce.”

“I didn’t say pucker your a—” I cut myself off and swallowed the coarse word. God, I hated working with noblewomen. A man couldn’t speak his mind. “I didn’t mean you had to stick your nose in the air.”

She looked flustered. “So, Furyknights don’t celebrate?”

“Of course we do! I only meant—” I caught myself before I raised my tone and took a breath to settle myself. “Look, if you get good news, you can celebrate. Smiling is fine. Making a joke. Even cheering if it’s a big victory. But, clapping is—”

“Too much like a woman?” she asked dryly.

“—reserved for audiences with the king,” I said starkly. “If you want to stand out even more than usual, by all means, go ahead. But the advice I’m giving you is good: Keep your head down. Work hard. Celebrate your own wins stoically. And don’t balk at chores, or challenges. If you do all that, you’ll succeed.”

She nodded quickly and her hands came up as if she’d clap again, but she clasped them instead.

Well done. I cleared my throat. “So, the hunting…?”

Her eyes brightened. “I know how to locate the wood-hare burrows. If you can build a fire and cook, I can hunt.”

I was skeptical, but it was my habit to let Flameborne live or die—metaphorically—on their word. If she wanted to say she could hunt, she’d be better to learn not to exaggerate or deceive now, before a squad relied on her.