Page 18 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Elf

I wake to a rough shove against my shoulder, and I sit up, scrambling away from a looming Rohan until the rope pulls tight on my ankle. His jaw tics, looking from it to me, and he tilts his head.

“What are you doing?” His dark eyes stare at me, hard and demanding.

“I… what?” I blink rapidly, trying to get my bearings. Oh, I’m in his cabin, the post… I look down and see a blanket over my legs.

“Do you always sleep so late, Elf?” My brows furrow, and I look up at the opening and see it’s daylight.

“I’m sorry.” Because what else am I to say? I cover a yawn with my hand, trying to hide it as Rohan sighs.

“Come.” He unties my ankle from the pole then drags me up by my arm, moving his hand to the back of my neck. He guides me with it, squeezing when I’m too slow as he takes me to the sitting area. I limp along, biting my lip when pain shoots up my body with every step.

A woman sits on a cushion by the table, her long, graying hair woven with too many small braids to count.

Her face is weathered, a few lines and dots on her skin like face paint, maybe?

She looks kind, considering who else is in the room.

She reminds me of Effy when her eyes soften, noticing my limp.

Rohan pushes me down abruptly and I stop myself from face-planting the table with a hand.

“Now, Dragonbond, you were brought up better than to treat a woman like that.” The older woman chastises, and Rohan huffs, coming to the other side of the table and sitting down.

“She’s lazy.”

Lazy?

“And I’m already behind on today’s chores because you have to tend to her.”

“You’re the one who decided to take her, and she’s injured.” The woman defends me, and I bow my head, peeking at her. “You have no one to blame but yourself. Don’t take it out on the girl.”

Who is this woman to him? His mother?

They don’t look alike, but I was never good at faces, always looking at the ground the majority of my life.

Rohan huffs. “Still, she’s a weakness we won’t tolerate. The Dragorie do not act this way.” He gestures in my direction.

The woman’s eyes narrow. “May I remind you, Dragonbond, that the life of others is not always the life of us. ”

He’s silent at that.

“Now, stop being grumpy and have some manners, she’s a guest, you buffoon. One you brought here.” His jaw tics, and my eyes widen at the way she’s talking to him. “Have mercy on the poor girl, she has obviously been through plenty of hardship.”

I watch the interaction with fascination and dread. The woman doesn’t seem afraid of Rohan at all, but I am, and I’m waiting for him to explode in the rage Dragonbonds are so feared for.

For him to pick the table up and throw it at her… to twist her neck and roar in victory.

But oddly, he’s silent.

“Hello,” the woman says, and I tear my eyes away from Rohan to peek at her. “I’m Asseya. I was told you have some injuries?”

She was? I look to Rohan for a clue about how he wants me to answer her.

Do I tell her I’m hurt? Do I lie?

“I’m… no, I’m okay… thank you.” Better to be safe than sorry.

She raises a brow. “Is she always so polite?” she asks Rohan.

“Sickeningly so.” I feel his stare on the side of my face. “Tell her where you’re hurt, Elf.”

I swallow, wondering what’s best to mention. “Um, my… my ankle hurts, but it will be okay in a few days.”

“Oh?” she says, looking down and seeing the purple bruising on it. She tuts. “Now how did you manage that?”

I shrug and look away. I’m not about to tell her Darcia made her horse step on it.

“And what else?”

“No, there isn’t—”

“She has a cut on the side of her head, she has some slightly bruised ribs, there are cuts all over her body, her left-hand hurts and she has a really nasty gash on her thigh that I don’t think she has noticed.

That wound on the side of her head needs the most attention as it may need stitching.

” I whip my head toward Rohan, mouth open in shock.

He’s looking down at some papers, not even sparing a glance at us.

“I see,” Asseya murmurs. “Let’s go to the bedroom and have some privacy while I look you over. Okay?”

My eyes widen in panic, and I look to Rohan who is now staring at me.

Nothing good ever came when someone looked me over.

“I… I…” My breathing becomes harsh and fast, and I grip the collar.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” Asseya murmurs in a gentle tone, lifting her hand toward me. I flinch back, bringing my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

“Elf, go to the room and let her see to you,” Rohan demands, his voice filtering through my panic. “You’re of no use to me if you’re injured.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, then do as I’m told, unfurling and rising on shaky legs, going to the bedroom.

This I can do, follow orders.

Sitting down at the pole, I listen as they whisper, unable to make out what they’re saying. Asseya comes in a moment later, a satchel in her hand.

I spot Rohan’s shadow on the other side of the curtain.

“How about we look at your ankle first?” Asseya asks.

“Okay.”

She hums as she turns my foot this way and that, and I stifle any cries of pain the best I can. But when she presses on a particular painful spot, I can’t hold it in. The curtain is pushed aside as Rohan enters.

“Oh hush, Dragonbond, I’m not purposely hurting her,” Asseya huffs, not bothering to turn and look at him.

“See that you don’t, Asseya, I have need of her.”

“Yes, yes.” She waves him off. Rohan grunts, but he steps out of the room again.

“Silly man,” she mutters, and my eyebrows raise. “Sometimes men are stupid. How is he treating you?”

I don’t answer because I don’t know how to. He’s fed me, clothed and bathed me, and given me a warm place to sleep? He’s shaken me and pushed me a little, but he hasn’t hit me or stomped on my body… yet.

Asseya stills in the wrapping of my foot and raises her head. “Do not settle for less, Elven one. He’s a cruel man when he needs to be. He is a leader and Dragonbond, after all, but that does not excuse bad behavior to those who do not deserve it.”

“I hurt his horse,” I whisper, guilt spearing through me, thinking of Serah’s leg. And then how she went on the ice.

“Pah,” she scoffs, tying the bandage and then moving to my head, looking through my curls. “I have a feeling that wasn’t done on purpose.”

“Of course not.” I hiss when she dabs something on my wound.

“Then grow a backbone.” Her voice is stern now. “It’s the only way you will survive this.”

But what if I don’t want to?

“What does that mean?”

She grabs my cheeks in her hands. They’re wrinkled, but soft. “Stick up for yourself. Do not let anyone walk all over you like you’re horse shit.”

I blink.

“The Dragorie do not like weakness. They recoil from it, turn their noses up. They won’t respect you.

They’re a hardened people, forced to live out of the shelter of towns and the city, but even they have a softer side.

Even a man like Rohan, though it may be harder to find.

You just need to get to the center. Past the thorns. ”

“Why are you telling me this? Why do I need to get past his thorns?” I whisper, my eyes darting toward his shadow. I’m certain he can’t hear us with how quietly we are talking, but I whisper to make sure.

“Because to have a man like Rohan at your back, it may as well be a dragon. And they’re the most ferocious of all.”

“The stables house all of our horses, and at the back they have a large, fenced area for them to roam.” I follow Calian as he takes me to what he calls the feed room.

It’s attached to the stable and it’s a wooden structure with a thatched roof, one of the few here as the Dragorie prefer their tents.

“We have some twenty horses here, and some are out. Your job in the mornings is to feed, groom, and clean out their individual stables.”

He opens a door and shows me the small room with barrels of feed and crates of apples. I’m still limping, but I feel a little better after Asseya wrapped my foot, and placed some strange smelling ointment on my other cuts, especially the one hidden in my hair.

“Next door is the saddle room.” The smell of leather hits me immediately as we enter.

Saddles, harnesses, and all sorts of equipment line the walls. A larger table is in the middle with wooden boxes underneath, containing an assortment of cloths and cleaning items.

“One or two times a week you’ll come in here and clean the leather, which I’ll teach you how to do.

” I look around the room, overwhelmed. There’s so much.

“Others do come in to help, depending on their duties for the day.” He walks over to the large wall at the back and points to it.

“This is Drogonah’s attire. You’re not to touch it, only the Dragonbond is allowed.

It shows his care and dedication to his dragon, and proves the safety of riding upon his back. ” I nod, taking in the larger saddle.

It’s flatter, and much wider than a horse’s, and there’s no pommel, just a curved edge. I can’t believe I sat upon that. There are some sort of buckles on the sides, and I assume they attach around the curved spikes on Drogonah’s back.

I look at the reins that are long enough to wrap around Drogonah’s neck, and the ends where they’re to be held by its rider. What looks like braided hair is intertwined with the leather.

“Follow me.”

Calian walks out and I follow, rubbing my fingers together as I look back into the room.

So much work to be done.

We stop outside a stall with writing on the front. A neigh comes from inside, and then a head pops over the half-door.

Serah.

“She is always who you see first. You feed and groom her before anyone else, she’s top priority.”

My brows furrow. “Why?”

“She’s the Dragonbond’s, Elf. Anything that is his is a priority, even his dragon.” What does that mean? “After you’ve finished, you go to the dragons. Rohan will teach you how to move heat stones from there to his home, and then fill buckets for others.”