50. State of the #2
“Are you staying, sir? And Kgosi?” As the Primarch of the herd, Donavyn’s dragon was the largest and most powerful in Vosgaarde. Possibly the world. He’d been the one to challenge Kham when Kham brought Koa back. The one she’d submitted to, to come under Kgosi’s protection as part of the herd.
“I have no plans to change or leave—until or unless our queen proves deceptive. And I do not believe she is. I see great change coming in the next few years. Change that will be difficult, but will allow both man and dragon to thrive. I want to be a part of that. And Kgosi wants to be where I am. I don’t believe you should have any concern about the dragons losing their Primarch.
Kgosi plans to live centuries yet, and likely will be chased from the herd before he wishes to quit. ”
A small wave of chuckles rippled through the room, but died quickly.
The general continued, but my head spun.
The dragons were no longer tied to the crown. Which meant any one of us could leave if our dragon chose so?
Why did that thought send a fizz of panic through my chest?
Because this was my home. These men were my family. My dragon was all I had. My life was here. In uncovering the scheme of traitors, had I inadvertently risked everything and everyone I loved?
There was nowhere else I wanted to be, nothing else I wished for than to be a Furyknight. And a spy.
Was that all in jeopardy?
“…If you plan to remain, you need to ask yourself if you’re ready to see your world shift.
Because the queen intends transformation in the palace, and the greater society of Vosgaarde, as well.
Change is always painful—but I believe what we’re moving toward will ultimately be for the benefit of all, so I’m willing to pursue it.
I do not underestimate how difficult it might be. ”
“Is that why the dragons are starting to choose women—not just Bren?”
Gil and I both grinned at Bren, whose brows rose as the men around us glanced her way as well.
“Yes,” Donavyn replied, and no one missed the pride—and warning—in his tone.
He’d hidden his relationship with her for months.
Our squad had known the truth long before anyone else, bar the king and queen.
Donavyn had required our help to keep Bren safe.
The protective instinct was strong. I was still adjusting to the fact that we could now discuss it openly.
But then my blood ran cold as Donavyn continued.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard, a feral dragon mate-bonded the dragon of one of your brothers.
She arrived two days ago, and has submitted to Kgosi and joined the herd.
She’d already Chosen a woman before they arrived here.
Her rider is being assessed now for suitability—she is Flameborne.
She wishes to be a Furyknight. The only thing I can say with certainty is that our requirements for earning the pin have not, and will not change.
However, with the removal of strictures on the herd as a whole, along with the queen’s focus on bringing women into their strengths, I imagine we will see the dragons choosing more women. ”
The room hummed with the sudden chatter among the men. As the commander continued answering questions about this season of change we were entering, and how challenging it might be, Gil leaned into my ear.
“Can you imagine?” he whispered. “Whole squads of women… in leathers?” He flashed me a grin. “We’ll blind the enemy just by flying them in. The men will be frozen—and unable to run because their leathers are suddenly too—”
I shot him a glare and he closed his mouth with a snap. Thank God I outranked him here.
Just two weeks ago, if we’d been in this very room, having this very conversation, I would have smiled right back and probably thrown some coarse joke out about teaching the women to ride to battle naked to give us an advantage.
But a flare of anger flashed in my chest, because all I could think of was Grace, the firm curve of her thigh even in those ill-fitting leathers she’d borrowed from Bren. The way they hugged her hips, and all the male eyes that would notice—
“If any new questions arise as you consider your decision, speak to your wing leaders first.”
I blinked, realizing that I’d missed something important. I’d have to ask Bren if she knew. But as the conversation between the men rose now that they were dismissed, and Gil continued with conjecture about how our ranks would look months or years from now, my tension grew.
And grew.
Dragons allowed to leave. Men granted leave without censure.
What if our enemies found out? We hadn’t even uncovered all of those involved in the schemes we’d thwarted in Fyrehold. There might be men in the Keep right now, still actively working against us.
And meanwhile, I sat here, training Flameborne to mount and throw knives? Just waiting for the next moment Grace popped out of a shadow and sent my heart out of my chest?
I’d be expected to stand by and wait while the kingdom, my men, my family were slowly eroded by these fuckers because no one had the balls to stand up for this throne anymore?
No. I fucking wouldn’t.
My heart swung in my chest as visions of Grace loomed in my head. Grace throwing knives today. Grace throwing herself off of Koa’s back. Grace in her leathers—shit.
I pushed out of my seat without another thought, leaving Bren and Gil to murmur to each other as I hurried to the general’s side.