Page 111 of Ashborne: Defiance

I almost choked on my tongue. “But! Why?! Gil’s back now—”

“Gil didn’t treat the new Flameborne like she was shit on his shoe. She needs to see that you’re as much a part of her team as any of the others, and know you’ll help her, no matter what.”

Watch her impress everyone. Watch them all flirt with her. Help her. Have to touch her—

I gaped at him, fury rising in my chest. “Are you fucking joking?! I just dragged her whining ass all the way from Fyrehold when I had much more important things to do, and trained her the whole way. Please, Ronen. Give me a break from the princess’s squeals of delight over a fucking dismount—”

“Oh.”

Every drop of my blood turned to ice at that tiny little syllable. I knew what I would find before I turned. But my heart still dropped to my toes, pumping uselessly, feeding me nothing, when I was faced with Grace, standing there, arms folded against the cold because she’d run out into the falling night with no jacket.

“I’m s-sorry. That was hard. I know. Thank you for putting up with—”

“Grace—”

“Furyknight, Attention!” Ronen barked.

I snapped to attention with a curse.

Ronen stepped right up to my toes, glaring with very real anger. He frightened me, not because he was violent—he was extremely self-disciplined—but because he was creative with his punishments when he had a point to make.

“Grace, I’m sorry,” I said without being asked. “My words were unnecessarily cruel, and untrue.”

“No, no. I shouldn’t have followed you. Only, I thought Ronen was angry with you and I wanted him to know how much you did for me.”

And now who was shit on someone’s shoe?

Something in my chest shriveled. I swallowed a wave of nausea.

“Grace,” Ronen said quietly, “Please ignore Voski’s sniveling, selfish little tantrum, and accept my apology for not training my men better.” He met my eyes, his own flashing with concealed rage. “A leader has nothing to stand on but his conduct, and the conduct of his men.”

That hurt on multiple levels.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“You will be,” Ronen muttered, then turned away from me to face Grace and act as if I wasn’t even there. “I have heard a great deal about you from both Bren and Donavyn, Grace. I’m very pleased you’re here. And I know you are neither a whiner, nor a princess—and that’s a compliment,” he added quickly.

Her smile was weak. “Thank you.”

“Please pretend this never happened. Even the best of us can lose control of our bowels via our mouths at times. You’ll learn in a squad like ours, it’s best to just accept that someone got it wrong and move on. It will make them more forgiving when it’s your turn to apologize.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Get back inside where it’s warm. Do you have a coat? I can—”

“No, no. I mean, yes. I do. I just didn’t put it on. I was hurrying to find you. Never mind. Thank you. I’ll go.”

I closed my eyes as I listened to her footsteps hurry back to the building, the creak of the door and the wave of noise that escaped, then, nothing.

“Voski, what the—” He cut off. I waited for the curse, but it didn’t come. “What the fuck happened to you?” Ronen said quietly, shocked. All trace of anger gone from his voice.

My eyes flew open. He stood a few feet away, brows pinched and frowning. And staring at my side.

I frowned. “What?”

“Your wrists. What the hell happened?”

I was confused, until I looked down. I’d jumped to attention so quickly, my jacket and sleeve caught against my side and pulled the cuffs of both an inch higher than usual, revealing the healing abrasions on my wrist.