The Primordial Flame

Please stay.

Without waiting for her reply, and completely ignoring the stunned silence hanging over the courtyard, I turn on my heel. Blood is rushing in my ears, my knuckles are raw, and my shoulder throbs where it slammed into the stone pillar, but I hold my head high as I march past Bram, Arden, and Vane.

I bypass the main doors entirely and head straight toward the outer gates of the safe house, my mind set. I've had enough of this hall, enough of Arden's double standards, and enough of being treated like a helpless royal trophy. I am ready to leave the guild behind.

"Ame, wait!" Vane calls out from behind, stepping forward, while Arden just stands frozen in the middle of the courtyard, his jaw tight as Colette slowly pulls herself up from the dirt.

Only Bram moves with purpose, his long strides cutting across the courtyard as he follows me toward the heavy oak gates, his expression unreadable, but his dark eyes fixed entirely on me.

I reach the heavy oak gates, my hands slamming against the iron latch to force it open, but the thundering sound of heavy boots on the gravel stops me short.

Vane and Bram both come sprinting around the corner, cutting off my exit before I can push past the threshold.

"Hey, no, little tiger, you're not leaving. Absolutely not," Vane pants, throwing his broad frame directly in front of the gate and spreading his arms wide to block the latch.

His usual smug, teasing demeanor is completely gone, replaced by an earnest, frantic look in his eyes as he steps closer.

"This place would be too boring without you, Ame," Vane says softly, his voice dropping into a rare, genuine register as he looks down at me.

"You’ve become one of my bestest friends, and I’ve never had one of those. Please don't go."

I stop, my chest still heaving from the adrenaline of the fight, my fingers frozen on the cold iron of the gate. Hearing Vane, the rough, blade obsessed master swordsman who usually does nothing but mock my royal roots speak with such raw, unguarded vulnerability hits me right in the center of my chest, instantly cutting through the thick wall of anger I'd built up.

Beside him, Bram steps up, his massive frame towering over both of us like a wall against the rest of the world. His dark, intense eyes sweep over my bruised cheek and dirty hands before settling on mine, filled with a quiet, fierce devotion that grounds me instantly.

"He's right, Ame," Bram rumbles low, his deep voice carrying an ironclad promise. "This guild is nothing without you. And if you walk through those gates, I walk with you."

"Bram." I say softly, my eyes darting quickly toward Vane. My pulse spikes with a sudden wave of panic, we had promised to keep us a secret from the crew, and revealing it now in the middle of the courtyard feels like dropping a lit torch into a powder keg.

"I don't care if he knows," Bram says, his deep voice carrying a fierce, immovable gravity that cuts through my worry. He steps right into my space, completely ignoring Vane's presence. His large, calloused hand comes up, his fingers gently tilting my chin up so my eyes meet his dark, burning gaze.

"I'm not losing you, Ame. Mine, remember?"

Behind us, a loud, dramatic gasp cuts through the air.

"Gods damn, I was right!" Vane shouts, his jaw practically hitting the gravel path as he stares at the two of us. A massive, triumphant grin spreads across his face. "I knew it! I bloody well knew it!"

I flush bright red, trying to pull my chin back, but Vane immediately raises both hands in a dramatic vow, his eyes surprisingly soft despite his wide grin. "Hey, relax, Little Tiger. Your secret's safe with me. I won't say a damn word to anyone."

I let out a long, heavy sigh, the last remaining tension from the fight finally draining out of my shoulders. Looking between Bram's unwavering gaze and Vane's proud, grinning mug, I nod slowly. "Alright. Fine. Let's go finish this damn briefing."

We turn and walk back across the courtyard, stepping through the double doors and back into the safehouse hall. Arden and Colette are still standing by the long oak table.

Colette is nursing a dark, swelling bruise on her cheek and glaring daggers at the floorboards, while Arden looks pale and thoroughly rattled as he tries to flatten out the crumpled route map.

As we approach the table, Vane throws a heavy, brotherly arm over my shoulder, leaning down to playfully pinch the tip of my nose to soften my lingering frown.

"Hands off, Vane!" I huff, laughing despite myself as I smack his hand away, smoothing my wild hair back down as I take my place right at the head of the table next to Bram.

Arden clears his throat, his eyes flicking nervously between me, the bruise on Colette's face, and Bram's dark, looming presence beside me. He unrolls the heavy parchment again, his fingers trembling just enough to show his composure is completely shattered.

"Right," Arden says, his voice flat as he tries to regain control of the room. "The Carrion intercept. Let's start from the top."

While Arden stammers through the logistics of Carrion’s heavy escort, Vane makes it his personal mission to completely sabotage my concentration.

Right beside me, he nudges his knee against mine under the table, making ridiculous faces behind Arden’s back every time the former leader uses a big tactical word. When Arden looks down at the parchment, Vane quickly reaches over and tugs a loose lock of my auburn hair, or steals a piece of dried fruit straight off my plate, winking at me with an insufferable smirk.

I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds, fighting off a desperate urge to snort with laughter.

Across the map, Arden’s dark eyes keep flicking between the two of us. Every time Vane leans down to whisper some absurd commentary into my ear, causing me to bite my lip and giggle, Arden’s knuckles turn stark white against the edge of the wooden table. A hot, dark flush of possessive jealousy rises up his neck.

Arden was the one who brought me into the Blackhand in the first place. He had been my first for everything, my first love, my first partner, the man who taught me how to survive in the dark. In his mind, he still believes he holds an unbreakable claim on me, regardless of how thoroughly he shattered my trust with Colette.

Watching Vane act so familiar, so blatantly affectionate with me right under his nose, is driving Arden completely out of his mind.

"If you two are quite finished flirtation testing each other’s focus," Arden snaps, his voice dropping an octave, harsh and bitter, "some of us are trying to ensure we don't all end up on Carrion's gallows next Thursday!"

Beside me, Bram doesn't flinch. He doesn't clench his fists, and he doesn't glare at Vane. In fact, sitting tall at my side, Bram’s dark eyes are filled with a quiet, rare warmth. He’s known Vane for years, and he’s never seen the rough, cynical master swordsman act like a protective, teasing big brother to anyone.

Bram knows who I belong to now, he knows the exact shape of my heart, knows the fierce, private promises we made in the dark of the lodge, and knows Vane is only fiercely guarding that secret. Bram finds the whole display thoroughly sweet, his lips twitching with a suppressed, amused smirk as he watches Arden stew in his own petty misunderstanding.

Bram casually reaches over, laying a large, calm hand over the centre of the map to draw the focus back, his dark eyes meeting mine with a subtle, wicked glint.

"Arden’s right about one thing," Bram rumbles smoothly, his voice cool and completely unflustered. "We need this route locked down. What’s the vanguard escort looking like at the eastern bridge?"

"Hey, don't look at me," I say smoothly, leaning forward over the parchment and flashing Arden a sweet, sharp smile. "I know my role. Keep Alaric and the lords distracted. Do you need another diversion from me? I can’t faint again, that performance almost cost me my dignity."

Vane snorts into his tunic, muffling another laugh, while Colette lets out a bitter, low breath from the far end of the bench, crossing her arms tight against her chest.

Arden's jaw works silently as he stares at me across the table, his dark eyes brimming with frustration, possessiveness, and a desperate effort to maintain control over the room. He clears his throat, shuffling the edges of the heavy map.

"No," Arden grinds out, his voice clipped as he forces his eyes away from my smile and back down to the ink lines. "No fainting. Alaric’s court is already on high alert after the gala. This time, we need you inside the carriage house before the convoy even rolls out. You’ll be securing High Lord Carrion's ledgers from the ironbound chest yourself while Bram and Vane hit the vanguard at the turnpike."

Bram leans over the table, his broad chest nearly brushing my shoulder as he traces a finger down the eastern road on the map. His dark eyes dart to mine for a fraction of a second, filled with that steady, reassuring heat, before he turns his gaze onto Arden.

"I'm sorry, what? I'm getting the ledgers?" I ask, raising my brows in complete disbelief as I look between Arden and the map. "You do realize Alaric won't let me out of his sight, not for a single second. The man was practically attached to my hip the last time, and after he kissed me at the gala, he’s going to be ten times worse on Thursday. It won't work."

Arden doesn't even blink. His dark eyes fixate on me with a bitter, possessive malice, his jaw clenched tight as he leans forward over the table.

"I know he kissed you, Ame," Arden spits, his voice dripping with venomous jealousy. "You made sure everyone knew it was part of 'maintaining your cover.' But if playing the King's willing little princess gets us inside those carriage doors on Thursday, then you'll swallow your pride and do it again."

A heavy, suffocating silence drops over the table like a lead anvil.