Chapter 8 Humble Me
~ DONAVYN ~
Watching Bren leave the next morning was excruciating—and not just because I wanted her with a fire that could melt rocks. Even in the dim, early morning light, the bruises on her arm, back, hip and thigh had bloomed overnight.
I hadn’t realized she’d been hurt on her leg.
I had no doubt I’d been too firm in my grip the night before.
Though she hadn’t complained. We’d both been desperate.
By the time I got my hands on her last night, I wouldn’t have given two shits if she’d punched me on a broken rib, as long as I got to her.
I had to pray the same was true for her, because those bruises made my stomach sick when she got out of bed to wash hurriedly, then dress and leave before most of the Furyknight Officers would be roaming the stairs and lobby.
I still had an hour, so was slower to get up. But that proved dangerous. Laying in bed, staring at the slowly brightening room only left me time to remember. Which made the tightness in my chest worse.
We’d woken up at some point in the night and finally talked. And I’d discovered what an idiot I was. I’d descended on her the moment she arrived. Didn’t even ask how her training had gone. Turned out she’d had a shitty day.
She was so accustomed to no one giving two shits what she thought or felt, she didn’t notice when someone important to her kept all the attention on themselves. I was determined to do better, and I’d done my best to reassure her fears that she was failing.
Shadowfang training truly was different. The challenges were designed to be failed—to breed resilience and humility. A spy couldn’t risk an entire mission because their pride was wounded.
But she struggled to believe I wasn’t trying to bolster her optimism.
“…I know I’m not as strong as the men. I don’t expect to be. But the question is, will this be needed when I’m on an assignment? Because if I have to fight a man… Donavyn, I’m afraid of being the reason a mission fails!” she’d whispered, like a child telling a horrible secret.
And the thing that damned me was that I was afraid of the very same thing—not because I worried about her letting the rest of us down. I knew she wouldn’t. But because I worried that I’d lose her. And as leader, my fear risked changing my choices—and that was a risk for all of us.
I blinked out of the memory and threw back the covers. I needed another bath before I dressed, and those thoughts were making my teeth grind.
I washed and dressed, and walked out into the now-bright sunlight. But I couldn’t stop seeing flashes of those bruises in my mind, and hear her tortured whispers in my head.
I had reports to analyze and collate for the king, some investigation of my own to do, and a meeting with the Captains that afternoon, but instead of heading straight to my office in the administrative building, I found myself following the path to the main Academy.
She’d told me she had a session with Ronen this morning. My instincts shrieked that there was danger in interfering. But I wouldn’t tell him not to let her train. Only to keep an eye out for her when I couldn’t.
When I pushed through the door into the training hall, it wasn’t only two pairs of eyes that swiveled to watch me walk up the aisle towards where they were gathered on the mats. It was the entire squad.
Shit.
The only saving grace as I approached, and Bren’s expression grew increasingly alarmed, was that these men already knew the truth of what lay between her and me. Even if it was ill-advised to interrupt, there would be no gossip.
But Bren was taken down because she’d been distracted by my entry, and her sparring partner—Voski—had no mercy.
She hit the ground with a grunt, and I saw the flinch a blink before she hit the mat.
A dark curse tore past my lips before I could catch it, and everyone in the echoing hall went still.
“Squadron, Attend!” Ronen barked from the back of the hall. Every man in the place shot to attention—followed a second later by Bren, who’d had to scramble up from the ground.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“At ease,” I muttered, not letting my eyes linger on her—seeing the foolishness of coming here when there were so many witnesses. But I was committed now. I marched past the lines of men scattered on the mats, straight towards Ronen, tipping my head to Gil, before ordering the others out.
“I need to speak with your Wing Leaders. Take a fifteen minute break, then return.”
The men leaped to obey—including Bren. But I slowed my pace across the room and caught her elbow as she passed me.
She stopped the moment I touched her, but looked up at me with an apprehensive expression, and I hated myself a little more.
“Are you hurt?” I murmured under the rumble of men trotting out the room.
She shook her head and frowned. “No, and even if I was. That’s the job.”
I swallowed and nodded, letting her go, but I didn’t walk on and neither did she. She glanced over her shoulder towards Ronen and Gil.
‘Tell me this isn’t about me. Please?’ she sent.
I wanted to grimace, but kept my face straight. ‘It’s leadership stuff.’ It wasn’t a lie, though it felt like one. ‘Don’t worry. Go. Have a rest while you can. I love you. I’ll see you tonight.’
Bren nodded once, sent a rush of love through the bond, then trotted after the others, sending as she left, ‘I know I worried you last night, but I really need to do this, just like they do. On my own merits.’
‘I’m just making certain no one is getting hurt unnecessarily,’ I sent, then did wince when the alarm bolted through her and reached me through the bond.
‘Of course I’m getting hurt—we all do! That’s training, Donavyn. You taught me that!’
‘I know. I’m not curtailing your training—don’t worry. This is leadership, not me managing you. Just manage yourself today as much as you can. When you get home tonight, I’ll massage you with the heated oils. They’ll help with the bruising and with relaxing.’
I almost tripped on my own feet when she sent me back an image, a memory from last night of my hand sliding up the back of her calf, and the rush of her arousal and love in response.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck! I had to take a tight leash on my mind, or my body would betray me.
I muttered a curse, but enough of the men had left the room, that it wasn’t heard.
Neither was Bren’s quiet chuckle.
As she passed out of sight, I didn’t miss that she moved gingerly on the leg with the bruised hip.
I had to roll my jaw to loosen it from a deathly clench when I reached Ronen and Gil at the back of the hall.
“Sir!” Both Ronen and Gil straightened to attention and saluted again.
I sighed and turned to watch the door swing close behind Bren—the last of the squad—before turning back to them with a frown and folding my arms. “There’s no need for formalities when we’re alone. I’ve told you this.”
“Sir, but Gil isn’t—” Ronen started. I raised a hand to stop him.
“Gil has proven his trustworthiness. When the three of us are alone, we can dispense with formalities—until you two fail me. Then we’ll have some very formal words, am I understood?”
Gil’s eyes widened, but Ronen only nodded thoughtfully.
“Good,” I said shortly. “Now, I won’t keep you. But I have some simple questions about training and how we’re treating the Flameborne and upcoming Furyknights…”
I explained my concerns in very general terms, and thought I’d done a good job of hiding the source of my unease, but halfway through my ill-prepared speech, Ronen raised a hand to ask me to pause and his lips thinned.
“Sir, if your concern is primarily on the, er, stealth side of training, I’m probably not the best Wing Leader to speak with,” he said pointedly.
Gil watched me carefully.
Dammit. I’d forgotten about Voski. But I couldn’t call him in without raising the interest of the others. “My concerns lay across the board. But if there are other leaders you think should hear them, or be involved with ensuring they’re soothed, then I’ll trust you to speak with them after this.”
Ronen and Gil glanced at each other, then both nodded warily.
“Good,” I said briskly, and was about to continue when Ronen spoke up again.
“Gil, we only have an hour left. Go send the others on their run—but tell Bren to visit the healers. If she’s been injured, she probably won’t tell us. We need to make sure.”
Gil nodded and after hesitating—he’d been about to salute me, then remembered my instruction—he trotted off.
Ronen waited until he’d left the hall before facing me. “Sir, I’d ask your permission to speak frankly, as you’ve assured me I could in the past,” he said.
Uneasy, I had to brace against the instinct to tell him I didn’t want to hear it. That wasn’t fair. I’d always prided myself on my willingness to answer difficult questions.
“Go ahead,” I growled, perhaps more gruffly than needed.
“Frankly, sir, I need to ask you to consider if you would have made this visit this morning if it were a male trainee being bruised. I think—and please, correct me if I’m wrong—that you’d encourage a man to persevere and toughen up.”
I bristled, despite the fact it was the very thought I’d already had myself this morning. I rubbed my jaw to give me time.
“Sir,” Ronen said, a touch more hesitantly this time. “I know that your circumstances are challenging. We vowed to assist you and Bren, and we meant it. But, you’ve always taught us that true leaders ask the hard questions.”
My hackles rose. “What hard question do you have?” I asked.
Ronen cleared his throat and glanced once more at the door before meeting my eyes again. “What the fuck are you doing calling us out of training so you can babysit her?”
Half of me deflated, wanted to sputter and apologize, and blush for God’s sake. The other half of me wanted to roar at him, who the fuck did he think he was? And perhaps more importantly, who did he think I was?
It took me a moment to take hold of myself and raise my chin, regarding him with caution in my eyes. “She isn’t like the others,” I admitted.
Ronen nodded. “But in this regard, she is,” he said carefully.
“She’s a Furyknight. She’ll get hurt—in training, and in practice.
Training is for her body to learn, strengthen, and heal so she’s less likely to be hurt in the field.
I’ve never seen you express even the slightest concern for a Furyknight in training before, let alone interrupt a squad session. ”
I had to wrestle with that, because he was only speaking my better judgment to me. But the fact remained. “She isn’t like any other Furyknight,” I insisted.
Ronen nodded again, and I had the distinct impression I was being treated with care.
I did not care for it.
“We care about her too,” he said quietly. “I told you we’ll take care of her, and I meant it. I’m not beating her up—I’m working her. I’m sure her other training is equally balanced. She needs to be strong enough for this, and the only way to develop strength is through resistance.”
“She’s a woman in a man’s world—” I started.
“And that will never change,” he said firmly.
God, help me, he was right. Frustrated with myself and with the situation, I looked away from him, back towards the door while I tried to take hold of myself.
She would never be anything other than a woman in a man’s world.
I sighed. “You’re right,” I said through numb lips. “You’re right. I will endeavor not to interrupt your work again.”
“Thank you, sir. But you’re always welcome, of course. I just wanted to—”
“I said you were right, Ronen. Not that you needed to pound the point home. Careful. Dispensing formalities isn’t permission to step above your station, Furyknight.”
Ronen’s eyes widened a hair, then he stepped back and ducked his head. “Of course, Sir. I only—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ronen, I’m taunting you.
You’re right. I was wrong to come. And I’m…
I’m sorry. This bond is challenging in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.
If you see my judgment lacking at any time—or hers—please, speak up.
I’d rather it came from you than from someone who has reason to use it against her. ”
Ronen looked relieved. “Thank you, Sir. And if it helps, I’m happy for you to call for me.” He glanced towards the door again and dropped his voice, brother-to-brother. “Don’t let them see you struggle.”
I didn’t like the weak reference, but I couldn’t fault his advice. So, I thanked him for the offer and moved away, freeing him from my ill-advised presence.
But as I walked away, out of the hall and through the building without seeing her, the skin between my shoulder blades itched, because this situation was rife with opportunity for pain—for her, and for me.
And I could do nothing about it. Beyond my own training sessions with her, I couldn’t do anything but pray.
Pray that I didn’t lose my mind, and I kept it together.
I had to keep all of us together if I was going to keep her safe.