I grimaced, swallowing back tears of rage and frustration as the crowd applauded again, then a shadow fell over me.
Donavyn.
“Stand to attention, Flameborne. You made it. Stand with pride,” he murmured under the level of the applause that was dying down after the Flameborne next to me received his pin.
I looked right up at him, pleading with my eyes that he’d just let me leave and not make me—
“Flameborne Bren, you flew with great courage and skill today. Your formations were solid, your solo flights and tasks completed quickly and efficiently. And you faced challenges in the Banner Seize that were unique.”
Why was he looking at me with a smile? Why did he—
“Do you have any special reports to make?” he intoned with a glance at the audience. “Anything to report?”
What was he trying to do? Get me hated by every Flameborne and Furyknight ever to wear leathers? I couldn’t report anything they’d done—especially after he’d already disciplined them!
“No, Sir,” I said as strongly as I could.
Donavyn frowned. But a moment later it softened to a smile. “Your honor is great, Bren. You’ll be welcome at our table. Now, please, for the witnesses, please show me your banners!”
He presented me with this statement like it was a gift. As if I’d be pleased.
Shamed and close to tears again, I lifted my hands and opened my palms, practically shoving the banners at him.
It wasn’t until he’d counted out the third that his expression clouded, and when he reached the fourth and there were none left…
“Bren,” he said quietly. “I need all five. I have to count them in front of everyone.”
I shook my head. “I only got four. When I got to the last rope, there wasn’t a banner there. It must have been knocked off or taken by accident,” I murmured, my vision blurring with tears of frustration and shame.
Donavyn went still, and the audience was quiet. I could feel the eyes of my brothers on me, their shock and disappointment.
I wanted the floor to open under my feet and swallow me up. I wanted Akhane to rush the stage and steal me away.
I wanted to never have seen a Furyknight in my life because everything they touched went wrong. Like me.
“Bren…” Donavyn breathed, then a fierce V pressed into his brows. “Flameborne Kearney, you say your banner was missing from the final rope?”
I nodded miserably.
He looked over his shoulder at the other Flameborne, then his brows shot up. He pulled fistfuls of banners out of his pockets and rifled through them. I had one, seconds-long burst of hope that he’d find it among Lorr and Faren’s spoils, but of course not.
When he’d dropped all the banners and they fluttered to the stage at his feet he looked at me, and I saw his eyes change when he realized I’d failed. And it fuckingkilled me.
It was worse than having to face Ronen or Gil. I wanted to weep. I wanted to grab his shirt and plead with him to find a way, not to stop believing in me, to—
“Flameborne Kearney,” he said darkly, slowly. “Tell me, did you misplace a banner, or was it torn from your grasp? You completed the task, correct?”
“No, Sir,” I breathed.
Donavyn blinked. “What was that?”
I cleared my throat and made myself meet his eyes, still pleading with him for mercy. “I said, no Sir. I wasn’t able to locate the final banner. I didn’t complete the assignment. I… I failed Sir.”
He took a deep breath and his face lightened. For a moment I was confused, then offended when he smiled.
“Well done, Bren,” he murmured before turning to the stunned crowd. I frowned at him, but his back was now to me as he addressed the King and Queen and the watching crowd.
“Today has been a test for usall.I have long held that of the skills of a Furyknight, strength of character is the most critical. Skills and duties can be learned. But character cannot. Either an adult holds themselves to a level of honor that will be an asset to our legions, or they do not. And today Flameborne Kearney has proven herself one of us.”
