Page 22 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Elf

Rohan showed me that under the hill his home is built on, there’s a doorway at the back. Inside, there are small, knee-high pillars where I’m supposed to place the heat stones.

On all fourteen of them.

Once in place, apparently the heat rises and helps warm his home above us. I’ve never seen something so clever, but I have to be quick getting the stones here before they go cold.

I would be in awe if I wasn’t carrying my last bucket of many, the wind making my eyelashes feel like icicles.

I open the door and shuffle in, only able to crouch.

I drop the bucket on the ground, my hands raw from placing the other stones.

My eyes water when the handle of the bucket rubs at the blisters.

Something else I’ll have to get used to, Rohan said.

It’s something the children start to do at age five.

Which made me even more embarrassed.

Master put me to work, cleaning and washing his clothes, feeding animals and so on. I’m not used to carrying around a heavy bucket of stones.

Placing the last stone on the pillar, I sit back on my heels and look around the small space. There are cobwebs in the crevices of the beams that hold up the wooden floor of the cabin, and it almost looks abandoned down here, like it hasn’t been used in a while.

It would make sense seeing as though Rohan had to practically shove the door open to get in.

So why is he using it now?

I head to the well next to gather water, per Rohan’s orders. There are three wells placed around the clan, but the closest one is down the hill and west, so I head that way, the wind slowing a little.

No one speaks to me, but Tofa smiles at me and Asseya waves as she passes with another woman, Astrid. It was nice of them, but not necessary.

I hopefully won’t be here for long.

Reaching the well, I attach the bucket to the rope and throw it in, my vision blurring when I see the drop.

I’m not very good with heights at all.

But more than that, it reminds me of the dried up well behind the barn, one of two, and I shiver at the memory of having to climb out of it.

I grab the crank and begin the slow ascent of retrieving the bucket. Beads of sweat form on my forehead as I turn the handle, my arms shaking, but the sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can get back to Rohan’s home and rest.

If he lets me.

Finally, the bucket is in sight, and I lock the handle, resting the bucket against the rim of the well, taking a breath.

Gods that’s heavy.

Bracing myself, I grab the handle, and just as I have my two hands on it, a shove comes from my side.

I land on the ground, the water spilling over me and instantly soaking my clothes. A hand grabs my hair as I cry out in alarm.

“Why are you really here, slave girl?” A harsh voice sneers. I try to get up, my hands clawing at the one in my hair, but a knee comes down on my back. “You won’t survive here, I will make sure of it. Leave, no one wants you here!”

“P-please, get off of me.”

She slams my head down, and my brow bone hits the bucket. I cry out, trying to cover my face.

“You will not mess up everything I’ve achieved over the last few years here, do you hear me?”

I hear other voices, two people laughing and then the hand is suddenly gone, and I’m left gasping, holding my face where it’s stinging. When nothing more comes, I sniffle and look around, only to pause when my eyes meet Rhett’s.

His brows furrow, staring at me intently, but then he shakes his head and walks off.

I pull my hand back and notice the blood smeared over the skin.

Shaking, I quickly fetch more water, my eyes darting around wildly, making sure no one else creeps up on me.

Soaking wet, cold and in pain, I grab the bucket once more, and hurry back to Rohan’s home, feeling eyes on my back and my legs start to feel shaky.

About half way there, Kaldar appears, blocking my path.

“Why are you bleeding?” His face isn’t unkind when he asks, but it must be a trick.

“Oh, u-um,” I stutter. “I just banged my head. I’m fine.”

I raise a hand to the cut. It’s not bleeding much, but I’ll need to clean it.

He eyes me curiously for a moment. “Okay, but be careful, Rohan won’t take too kindly if you get sick or something.”

“O-okay…” When he moves to the side, I pass him as fast as I can.

It isn’t until I’m inside Rohan’s cabin that my shoulders relax, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

I head for the bedroom and the glass bowl of water on the table, with a mirror behind it.

Using the cloth next to it, I dab at the cut just above my eyebrow, wincing at the sting.

Bruising is already forming around it, and my shoulders slump.

I don’t look too closely at myself, knowing what I will see.

Fearful eyes, trembling lips.

Weak.

Always so damn weak.

“Elf?” Rohan shouts from within, and I jump, not expecting him to be here and the bowl goes crashing to the floor, water splashing everywhere.

Oh no.

I crouch down, grabbing the smashed bowl with shaking hands, stifling my cries as it cuts me.

“Elf!” Rohan calls again.

Quick quick quick, I have to be quick, and then I can find another and replace it somehow and hopefully he won’t notice—

A shadow looms at the entrance of the bedroom, and I scramble back, wide fearful eyes on Rohan as I clutch the glass in my hands.

“What are you doing?” He demands, stepping into the room.

“I-I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

He looks at my head, then to the glass on the floor, and then to my hands, his jaw tense.

“Come here.” I can’t, my feet are rooted to the spot. “Elf,” he takes a step forward, and I take one back, causing him to freeze.

He looks at my hands once more, before he slowly shakes his head.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Hurt yourself.”

My brows furrow, and I look down.

Blood drips from both of my clenching hands, and I uncurl them, letting the glass drop to the floor, but some stick into my skin.

I didn’t even realize I was doing that, and I’ve made more of a mess.

“I’ll c-clean it up, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” His tone is low, scary, and I raise my head as a tear falls from my eye.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re bleeding, hurting yourself because you tried to clean up a mess and you’re sorry!” He explodes, and I cry out in fear, squeezing my eyes shut.

I’ve messed up.

Done something wrong.

I’ve been bad.

Hands on my face have my eyes flying open, and Rohan is there, right in front of me, eyes shining with something I’m unsure of.

“Calm. Copy me.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but then I see him take a deep breath, and I do the same, my lungs aching with the air coming in. “Good. Another.”

I continue to breathe in his rhythm, calming myself, unsure what just happened and eventually, I’m breathing right on my own.

I can’t even do that right it seems.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Hush.” I do, clamping my lips together.

He guides me over to the bed and sits me on it, holding out a hand.

“The mess,” I protest.

“Fuck the mess.”

I bite the inside of my lip and place my hand in his. I wince when he begins to pick glass out of it.

“Stupid girl, it’s just a smashed bowl.”

A smashed bowl would usually get me a smashed face.

Rohan is quiet as he clears my hand of glass, a frown on his face at my every wince. Then he clears the mess up off the floor, replacing it with another bowl out of a chest. This one wooden.

“Change into a new tunic, and then come and wash me.”

I nod without question and he leaves to get in the bath. I put on a fresh tunic, teeth rattling, mindful of the little cuts on my hand.

It could be worse , I tell myself.

Going to Rohan, I take the cloth he nods to, and rub soap into it, ignoring the sting.

I start with Rohan’s arm, his shoulders and neck. Then he leans his head back, eyes half-closed as he watches me do his chest, the dark hair there barely visible.

“It may hurt a little, but it will make sure they’re thoroughly clean.”

I nod.

“It’s your punishment for even attempting to clean that up when it can hurt you, especially when I didn’t allow it.

” I look at him, confused. “This way, you feel each sting on your hands from the soap, rather than the sting of my palm on your ass. Now, remember you do not do that to yourself ever again. Or it will be my hand.” A pause. “Or the poles.”

I blink in surprise, still confused and shocked.

He’s giving me this punishment so I don’t hurt myself in the future?

“Did you speak to a dragon, Little Whisperer?” he asks after a while, pulling me out of my confusion.

I shake my head. “Another dragon helped me with the stone, Solia. Drogonah ignored me, and I’m sure he rolled his eyes at me. I didn’t want to pester in fear of being his dinner.”

Rohan huffs out a low laugh, and I look at him in surprise, to which he raises a brow.

“Drogonah is a proud dragon, and you’re like a gnat to him. Why would he lower his standards for someone who is not worthy?”

“Because I’m an elf,” I guess easily. We have no value.

He shakes his head. “A dragon does not care if you’re human, elf, or something else. They care about the worth you have yet to show him.”

I pause. “How would I show that?” I ask, my other hand rising to the collar.

He looks at it, nostrils flaring. “We are strong people, dragons admire strength.”

I sigh, moving to his bent knee and washing there. “I’m not strong at all.”

“Strength can look like many different things. You just have to find it.”

“And then he will be more… open to me?”

He shrugs. “We shall see.” I nod. “You will practice braiding my hair after.”

“Okay,”

He grunts his acknowledgement. “After you bathe.”

I wonder where I will bathe. There are a few streams nearby.

Just the thought of the cold seeping in makes me shiver.

“You’re cold.” He eyes me.

“I’m fine,” I tell him softly, moving to the other side of him.

I wash down to his pectorals, his stomach, and I avert my eyes, moving quickly to the tops of his thighs. It’s silent, other than my heartbeat in my ears and the splashing of water.