Page 14 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Elf

Rohan takes me back to a scowling Calian with orders to keep a closer eye on me. That I need to be put to work and earn my place here, not stare off into the distance.

I must have looked at where the sheep were longer than I thought.

“Make sure to brush in the direction the hair grows,” Calian says, as he takes the brush from my awkward, fumbling hands and glides it down the side of Serah. “See? Now you do it.”

I try to copy his movements the best I can, but I don’t think it’s good enough because he stomps off, shaking his head. My arms ache and my stomach rumbles with hunger, but I don’t complain.

Just do as I’m told.

Calian hasn’t hurt me yet, but he no doubt will.

They all do in time.

By late afternoon my muscles ache with today’s chores, exhaustion clawing at me.

“Maybe I should pretend to be a sheep,” I mutter to Serah. “Maybe then all of this will go away. Maybe I can get away this time and not run into a pack of wolves.” She snorts and I nod. “I don’t like the odds of my chances either.”

“What are you mumbling about, Elf?” I freeze, the brush stilling against Serah as heat covers my back.

“N-nothing.” I drag the brush down the horse shakily, her tail swishing as she softly neighs at her owner.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

So I’ve been told.

His large hand covers mine, and my fingers twitch at the contact.

“You need to go down with the hair.” He drags the brush down, his other hand coming around me and landing on Serah’s neck.

Stroking, soothing. “Always put your other hand on her so she knows where you are. Horses don’t like surprises. ”

He grabs my other wrist and places it on her neck, next to his. Slowly, he lets go of the brush and waits a moment. When he grunts, I brush down the way he showed me, sweat beading my brow.

“All creatures do not like surprises, especially dragons. Do not get on Drogonah’s left side without him knowing. He may not stop in time and you will lose an arm.”

I remember hearing the crunch of bone from the sheep and I shiver.

“Braid her mane next, then her tail. We are riding hard today and it needs to be kept out of the way.” I look at the mane in question and swallow roughly.

“I… don’t know how to do that,” I admit. “I’m sorry.” A pause, and my fingers tighten on the brush.

“What?” Rohan turns me with hands on my waist, and the brush tumbles from my fingers. He ignores it, looking down at me, brows furrowed. “You don’t know how to braid?” I shake my head. “Is there anything you can do?”

He growls, and I flinch at the harsh sound, backing into Serah. She moves unexpectedly, leaving me sprawled on the ground. The snow soaks into my clothes, and I wrap my arms around my knees, waiting for the shouting, the kick to the side, the pull of my hair.

It doesn’t come.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open. His boots sink into the snow slightly, and I don’t dare move. Don’t dare to draw any attention as he calms Serah.

“Up, Elf.” I rise without question, hands curling in on each other. “Come to me.” I do that too. Obedience helps. Less hits. Sometimes even a little more bread if I’m quiet through a beating.

He grabs my chin, raising my eyes to his. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but when I start to shiver, he blinks and turns me to the horse.

“You take three strands of hair in your grip like this.” I look at what he’s doing before he growls, “Pick up some hair!” I do as I’m asked, but I’m not tall enough to reach the top. “Morana’s sake.” He throws his head back as he says the Dragon mother’s name.

He turns to me, eyes hard, lethal.

“What did I say about how you represent me ? You can’t even fucking braid!”

He eyes my tangled mess of hair. “Watch.” The words are a rumble, and some of the other horses shift at the sound, unsettled by his agitation.

I watch as Rohan shows me how to braid, and try to memorize it. I can do this. I learned to sew… eventually, same with planting crops and how to cut meat just right. How to wash clothes if I added a little more water to the soap—

“Are you listening?”

“Y-yes.”

“I should have let you burn alive in The Pit.”

I nod.

Rohan growls.

Serah turns, bumping her nose to Rohan’s chest before her lips rest on my head. I whimper when my hair is tugged slightly, scared she’ll ruin something I love.

I don’t know how to take care of my hair, how to put it in pretty braids, but I love it all the same. It was the only thing I was allowed to secretly love, the only thing that connected me to a family somewhere. Knowing at one point that I did have a sister who brushed it, a mother who created it.

Maybe she cared for me? Held me? Loved me?

But she didn’t keep me.

My hand instinctively comes up to the front of Serah as she nibbles the top of my head, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Of course you like her, Serah.” Rohan grunts, and I drop my hand, taking a step back. “Don’t you dare deny her.” I still, and let Serah continue before she turns, tail swishing as she greets another horse that’s come up to her.

Rohan’s sigh sounds like it comes from his soul, and I can’t say I don’t feel that.

“Come, we will eat in my tent.”

He grabs the rope and attaches it to himself once again, and I follow, shivering.

I feel eyes on me as we walk, members talking amongst themselves, cooking pots boiling. It must be nice to have people that care about you, I think to myself as a woman helps a man wrap his leg from some sort of wound.

“No more dragons have been spotted so far,” Garret says, stepping up beside Rohan.

“Good. Have we buried the wild one yet?” My mind goes to the dragon that attacked while I tried to escape.

“Yes,” he says, voice sad. Rohan nods.

I didn’t know they buried dragons; I figured if one died they would just... I don’t know, leave it?

We enter Rohan’s tent not long after, it’s the largest one here, and we sit on the pillows on the floor. Rohan unties my rope and I wait, with my head bowed. I peek at him from the corner of my eye, watching him remove a braid from his hair.

How does his hair look so soft when mine always tangles?

He grabs a comb from the table and brushes it out.

“Dragonbond?” Someone calls from outside the tent.

“Enter.”

Two women appear, Saelon and Agnis, with plates of food, offering soft smiles to their clan leader. “No one is to disturb me.”

They eye me. “Of course.”

They place food down on the table and leave without another word.

“Now, watch.” I look up at his words, and to my surprise, he braids his hair slowly, showing me how to maneuver the hair between his fingers.

When he’s done, he undoes it then looks at me expectantly.

I stare at him, eyes wide. What does he want me to do?

I look at the food.

Of course! I’m an idiot.

I grab the bread, bringing it up to his lips.

He doesn’t open his mouth, doesn’t help me feed him. He grabs my wrists, frowning.

“What are you doing?”

“F-feeding you?” My answer sounds more like a question.

“I do not need feeding,” he growls. “I’m very capable of feeding myself.”

“Sorry.”

He mutters, then reaching around me, he slips his hand in the side of my pants. I squeak in fear when he grabs the apple and holds it up between us.

“Seems your thieving days aren’t over, Elf.” My cheeks heat, and he takes a large bite. “Braid my hair.”

I put the bread down and wipe my fingers clean.

Isn’t he going to punish me for the apple?

I don’t dare ask.

Shakily, I grab Rohan’s hair and part it into three sections like he did, then I move them over and under, swap one strand for the other—

“Are you trying to make me as bald as Calian?” he splutters around the apple.

Oops. I must have pulled too tight.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Try again.” He rubs his head.

I do. I try so many times, redoing each one I manage, only pausing when Rohan tells me to eat something. My fingers are cramping, my clothes are just slightly damp now, but finally… as my eyelids begin to droop, I make a braid.

One single braid.

It’s a little wonky, messy even, but I made it, even tied it off with a little strip of leather.

I beam at my work, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

Rohan grabs my wrist and makes a purring sound. My eyes meet his, my smile wide until I realize what I’m doing, and make my face blank.

I can’t show I liked doing it. He’ll take it away from me.

“Does my hair fascinate you, Elf?” His murmur is softer… deeper.

I look at my hand, still on the braid and I realize it’s twined around my finger.

My cheeks heat as I let it go.

I was playing with the Dragonbond’s hair.

I peek at him as he inspects the braid. “A child could have done better.” His words scold me, but to my surprise, he doesn’t take the braid out, he just tucks it under another one. “Don’t mention this to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” How many times do I have to agree?

He looks at my hair and sighs. “We need to braid yours. So you must learn. Our hair is important to us; however, we can’t have it loose. It will get in the way when we need to fight.”

When, not if.

I nod, resisting the urge to touch my own hair, feeling self-conscious. I don’t know how to take care of my hair, having it down all the time keeps my ears hidden, which is for the best. But if Rohan wants my hair braided…

“Time for sleep.”

Rohan stands and strips down until he’s just in his pants, and I stand there awkwardly trying not to look at his bare skin, until he throws a tunic at me.

There’s a buzzing inside of me, one I’m unfamiliar with, but it heightens when I look at Rohan, so it’s best to avoid it.

I quickly pull the clean, dry tunic on, Rohan once again paying no attention to my nakedness, thank the Gods.

Rohan gestures to the fur bed.

I walk toward it, and he grabs the rope, tying it to his wrist this time before taking me down with a yelp.

I don’t breathe properly, aware of every move I make as he places me half beneath him like before.

His sleep-riddled voice reaches me next. “Sleep.”

And for some reason, I do.