Page 19 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

“What’s a heat stone?” I try to ignore the panic clawing at my throat, I have to go in the dragon’s den?

He looks at me curiously. “You do not have warmth where you’re from?”

“Master had me keep the fire lit at all times, but I had to leave as soon as I was done. I’m not aware of heat stones.”

He stares at me for a moment. “I see.” He begins to walk off. “Get to feeding, two scoops each, and then a large clump of hay. You can feed them using the wheelbarrow in the feed room. I’ll check up on you later.”

“Okay.”

“Oh,” he says. “Do not run, or a dragon will be sent out to bring you back.”

“I won’t.” He stares at me for a moment, and then he’s gone.

I sigh, looking down the long row of stables. A nibble at my back startles me. I whirl around and smile as Serah makes a funny face with her lips. Her ears flicking.

“Well, I guess we shall begin?” She neighs. “I’ll brush you soon, and I can check your leg?” I look down at my boot. “I have a bandage too now, we match.”

I pat her nose and make my way to the large doors at the back. Opening one with much effort, I instantly spot the rolls of hay to the right, and the wheelbarrow next to it.

Going over, I start to grab at the hay, the cold biting into my fingers, but all I’m getting is a few strands at a time.

“If you cut it down one side, it’s easier to grab,” a voice says.

“Ah!” I jump, banging into the wheelbarrow and knocking it over.

Gods, get it together.

“Look what you did, Beau.” A hand on my arm has me freezing, but when I look up, kind eyes look back at me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man, Beau says, looking sheepish. He has blue eyes, and blond hair in a braided ponytail.

“Hi, I’m Tofa.” It’s the woman Calian was talking to. “That’s Beau.”

“H-hi,” I reply, before turning to Beau. “It’s okay.”

His smile is kind. Much different from the scowls I’ve been getting from the other clan members.

“We help Calian take care of the animals,” Tofa says.

“He asked me to feed the horses,” I tell them, nervous about there being two of them and one of me, though I don’t feel threatened. Not really. Just unsure.

“How is that going for you?” She asks, and I point down at the wheelbarrow. She laughs. “Come on. I’ll show you the easiest way to fill it.”

“She’s the best at it,” Beau says.

Tofa cuts the hay in half with a knife from a sheath somewhere, and between the three of us, the wheelbarrow is quickly full of hay and we are giving it out to the horses.

“We’ve never seen an elf before,” Tofa says, while I grab and throw hay over the stalls. “I’ve heard of your kind, obviously. Dracozar has been fighting you for a long time.” She pauses and tilts her head at me. “You’re not a spy, are you?”

“What?” I fumble with the hay. “Of course not.”

“That’s what others think,” Beau huffs. “I asked them if a spy could be blown over by a strong gust of wind, and they went away thinking about it.” He pauses giving out some apples. “You are very weak.”

“Very,” Tofa adds. “But don’t worry! We’re here to help.”

“We are,” Beau agrees.

“But why?” I frown as suspicion rises.

“We know what it’s like to be outcasts.”

“I think I’m a little more than that,” I say, feeling my ears through my curls.

Beau shrugs. “Once suspicion dies down, you’ll see that we don’t care what you are.”

“And you believe I’m not a spy like they think?”

“Yep!” Tofa places a hand on my arm. “No offense, but you would be a shit spy. We saw you come in and you’re stumbling and fumbling everywhere.” She eyes the collar. “And the metal around your neck makes it glaringly obvious that you have had a hard life.”

“I’m not a spy.” I fiddle with the collar.

Beau comes closer. “We know, the others will come around.” But what about their Dragonbond?

“I know this may be scary, but we’re not all cruel and callous like the lands make us out to be.

We know our reputation, and though we like a battle, we don’t go looking for one.

” Tofa nudges him. “Not all the time, anyway.”

“Right!” Tofa claps her hands. “With that out the way, let’s get back to work!”

We hand out more hay and apples.

“Do you really live in trees?” Tofa asks. “And is the hart really like your familiar? Oh!” She says, pointing at me. “Can you really talk to animals?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. I’ve been in Dracozar since I was a little girl.”

“Oh.” Her eyes drop to the collar. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Tofa continues to tell me how to take care of the horses. Beau tells me where to find the well, which horses like an apple and which ones don’t, and where we throw away the horse manure. It’s nice to talk to others. Not many talk to a slave, never mind an elf.

When I move the hair behind my ear, it forever gets in my way, Tofa asks, “Do you want me to braid your hair so it’s away from your face?”

She would do that? I slowly nod. Hesitantly.

She smiles, stepping behind me and gathering my hair before she starts to braid it in what I assume is one big one.

“It will need a really good wash and brush when you can. I’ve never seen hair this color before. It’s like fire. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“There,” she says. “All done.” I reach back and pull the braid over my shoulder, admiring how neat it is.

“Wow.” She left a few tendrils of shorter hair loose around my face, but they won’t get in the way.

“Much better.” She smiles and continues her jobs while Beau goes to start cleaning the saddles.

I can see so much better now, and the cool air is nice on my neck where the metal isn’t.

We start grooming the horses, and it isn’t until I get to Serah that I remember.

Calian said to see her first.

“Sorry girl,” I whisper softly. Her tail swishes, but otherwise she stays still as I groom her how Rohan showed me. “I was supposed to do you first. I’ll do better next time.” I look down. “And see to your leg. I hope it doesn’t hurt as much.”

I let the soothing sound of bristles through her hair wash over me, getting lost in the repetition until I sense eyes on my back.

It feels annoyed, hardened.

I slowly peek over my shoulder. Rohan stands outside the stall, arms folded, leaning against the wood.

Saying nothing, I go back to grooming her.

It’s unnerving, his attention. It sears me.

Scares me.

“Do not forget her mane.” His voice makes me startle.

Right.

Wiping my hand down my cloak, I gather pieces of her mane as close to the skin as I can. Separating into three strands, I try to remember the order Rohan showed me.

Right over middle. Grab the middle too and twist, left over middle. Twist.

I lose some hair in the process, some get tangled and I lose two strands all together at one point.

But he doesn’t berate me, just watches quietly until he speaks.

“Who braided your hair?”

“Tofa helped me. It was getting in my face while working.” A horrible thought hits me. “I—I told her to do it. It was me.”

I don’t want to get her into trouble, she’s been nice to me.

The heat of him envelops my back, and my hands still in Serah’s mane, waiting for the inevitable.

He tugs at my hair, and I hold my breath. It isn’t until thicker, loose curls fall on my face that I realize he undid the braid.

“As someone I claimed, no one is to touch you that closely without permission.” I breathe out harshly. “And no one should be touching your hair.” He growls, and my body trembles. “Hair is a sacred thing amongst the Dragorie, you will not let another touch it. Understand?”

I nod.

“Words!”

“I understand!” I shout.

He stills at the loudness of my voice, and I’m sure I hear a rumble, this one amused.

It couldn’t have been.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Oh. Right.

I look at Serah’s mane and continue to braid. Unexpectedly, he picks up my hair and begins to braid it.

This scary man is braiding my hair so softly, like it’s something precious.

I didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.

Is it a trick?

It’s weirdly intimate, the way he touches my hair, like each strand means something. I get lost in it, braiding the mane almost in a trance.

Then his fingers graze the tip of my ear, not by mistake. He does it again and again, and a whimper escapes me.

He pauses at the sound, but then continues. My stomach flips in a strange way.

My ears are sensitive, and I assume it’s an elf thing.

I try to move forward a little, to get him to stop, but a hand on my waist stops me.

I look down at it.

It spans my whole left side, his fingers grazing just shy of my navel.

“Still.”

My fingers curl into the mane, and I go as fast as I can, working each strand. Poorly.

When I’m just about finished, Rohan places my hair over my shoulders, grazing my ear one last time before he steps away, taking his heat with him.

I look down at my hair, and instead of one singular braid like Tofa did, this is two separate braids, one each over my shoulders, and two small ones weaving into it.

It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen hair this way, not even on the other Dragorie.

“I—” I turn to thank him, but stop at the look in his eyes.

It’s something I’ve never seen before, something I’m not sure I understand.

“Better than before, but not up to my standard. You will practice when we’re back in my cabin.” It takes me a moment for his words to register, and I realize he’s talking about Serah’s mane.

“Okay.”

“Come.”

I follow behind him and we trail through the settlement as people greet him, nodding their respect while I’m ignored.

But then a child comes up to me.

She has blonde, curly hair, little braids intertwined while the rest lays on her shoulders.

“You ave points on yor eywers,” she says, looking at my ears.

I freeze, looking at Rohan for help. He just folds his arms, watching us with a stern expression.

“Um, yes.” I crouch down to her level.

“I wants points.” She reaches up and touches my ears, smiling widely, her blue eyes bright and full of innocence.

I let her touch my ears, no matter how sensitive they are, while she giggles.

“I like dem,” she determines, touching her own ears now.

“I like your ears too,” I hesitate before tapping her gently on the nose with a soft smile.

“You do?”

“Yes, very much so. And I like your hair, it’s very pretty.”

“Your hair red.”

“It is.”

“Like fire.” I nod.

“It is—”

“Melle,” a woman shouts, rushing toward us. “What are you doing over here?” She grabs the girl and lifts her up, placing her on her hip as she frowns down at me. “We don’t talk to the elf.”

Melle frowns. “But she pwetty, mama.”

“No,” her mother says sternly, and I stand.

“I–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get her into trouble. It was my fault.”

“She isn’t in trouble.” Her tone is harsh. “Dragonbond, I apologize, she didn’t mean to speak to the slave girl.”

“She’s four, Nora. The girl is curious, as she’s allowed to be. If I didn’t allow it, or think she wasn’t safe, I would have stopped it.”

Nora bows her head. “I know you would have, thank you.” Then she walks off, and Melle waves at me. I give a small wave back, no matter the sadness of the little girl being taken away.

“You’re good with children,” Rohan remarks, walking off again.

“Children are innocent,” I tell him softly.

“That they are.”

I take a breath before being brave. “Can I talk to her again? If I see her?” I’ve been asking a lot of questions lately, but I can’t seem to care about the consequences of asking this one.

She’s a sweet girl, and her light shines so brightly within her eyes, it’s hard not to want to be near it.

Rohan turns his head to me. “If she wants to, and if her mother allows it.”

I don’t think her mother will at all.

I deflate, touching my ears.

At least one person likes them here.

She’s probably the only one in the lands that do, apart from Effy.

“Come quickly, we have things to do.”

We continue up the gentle slope, passing tents and more people.

“Dragonbond,” an older child calls to Rohan, his brown hair coming to his shoulders as he runs up to him. “Are you going to The Glade soon?”

“We will.”

“Can I come?”

Rohan stops and bends at the waist. “Are you going to ride your first dragon, Lykke?”

The kid puffs up his chest and stands taller. “I’m ready, I can do it. I can become a Dragonbond!” Rohan smirks, and for once, it’s a kind one.

A gentle one.

“When you’re fifteen you can come. If your mother allows it.”

“Aww, but that’s in four years.”

He ruffles the kid’s hair. “Go on now to your mother.”

Though sullen, he runs off to his mother who eyes me with wariness.

“Watch him for sneaking out to come with us, Maery,” Rohan tells her, and she smiles.

“I shall.”

Whenever we pass someone, they always greet Rohan, asking about his well-being, and he even goes over to some tents and peeks his head in, asking if they need anything.

He seems like a good leader for a barbarian, and takes care of his clan members.

They respect him.

They take anything they want and battle when they like. I haven’t seen anyone hurting another yet, though. Or raping them.

Maybe that comes at nightfall.

It isn’t long before we’re passing Rohan’s home, making our way to the mountain. There’s a large cave looming over me, just like The Pit.

A rumble comes from within, the sound harsh and deadly. When Rohan takes a step inside, I have no choice but to follow him into the dragon’s den.