Page 28 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Elf

“Eat, you’re too skinny.” Rohan pours some of his broth into my bowl.

I want to retort that I didn’t choose this.

I didn’t choose to be starved, barely surviving on anything given to me. But I keep quiet, sipping the broth. I’m confused this morning.

I woke with Rohan half lying on top of me, his braid in my hand and warmth that I’ve never felt before, one that has stayed in my bones since.

“You’ll continue with my dragons this morning.”

I dare to groan.

His lips twitch. “Something to say?” He rips off a little meat, chewing loudly.

Everything about him is harsh, rugged.

I shake my head.

“Hmm. You will learn to speak freely.”

I’m not so sure.

“You can collect heat stones after you’ve finished talking to them. I think Drogonah went hunting last night, so he may be hard to wake this morning.”

Great.

“Hunting? I thought Calian feeds them?”

He huffs. “Just because they can be hand-fed doesn’t mean they prefer it.” He stares at me, something swirling in his eyes that makes them flicker purple. “Sometimes they like to hunt their prey, it’s a thrill.”

I clear my throat. “What do I do after that?”

“I’ll meet you here for dinner and you can practice your braiding.”

I lift a hand and try to tame some hair that has fallen out of the braids Rohan did.

He watches me, his eyes tracking my movements to my ears, raising his own hand and touching the tip.

I don’t flinch this time, but I do shiver.

He smirks.

How did I end up sitting in a Dragonbond’s home, with him touching my ears while I eat until I’m full?

Everything I heard about the Dragorie doesn’t make sense. I haven’t seen anything barbaric at all. Darcia is horrid to me, but that’s normal treatment for me. I expected to be strewn up for the taking and to be beaten daily.

It’s strange that I’m not.

My body is healing, resting even, despite my chores. Even though every sudden noise makes me jump and I look over my shoulder most times for Darcia, being here is… nice.

“Will you really take me back to Mas—” He growls. “Emerish,” I quickly correct myself. “Will you really take me back to Emerish if I can’t talk to your dragons?” I rip some bread, dunking it in the broth.

I could eat this for the rest of my life.

He watches me eat for a moment, then finally responds. “I won’t take you back to him.” Relief flows through me, before it’s instantly taken away. “Because you will be able to speak to them.”

“You seem so sure,” I mumble.

“Because you have to.” His tone deepens, the words much sharper. Even though I don’t really understand, I nod, accepting that no matter what he says, I won’t be able to do it.

I don’t know how to talk with a rabbit, never mind a dragon, and everyone in this clan hates me being here. So what’s the point of it all?

I look down at my broth.

I think Effy will be okay without me for the most part, and Emerish would have taken on another slave no doubt. Effy can continue to cook for him, and he’ll leave her alone because I’m not there causing any trouble. She won’t get hurt from trying to help me, so why am I bothering—

A tug on my braid has my eyes sliding to Rohan’s, who’s watching me with furrowed brows.

He says nothing for a time, just watching me. When he does speak, it’s the last thing I expect to hear.

“The mind can be a dangerous place, Little Whisperer. Don’t let it fool you.”

How does he even know that? “Just one thing, remember?”

I swallow roughly, pushing my bowl away, suddenly not hungry.

“I’ll go to the cave now.” I get up, grabbing the cloak. I expect him to stop me, but all he does is watch as I walk out the back door.

Cold instantly hits me, and I rush down the steps, heading for the cave, knowing it will be warmer. I’m glad Rohan’s home is the closest to it, but even still, it takes me a while to reach it, my feet sinking lightly into the fresh, powdered snow with every step.

I remove my hood as soon as I enter the cave, brushing snow off of me and sighing in relief at the warmth.

“H-hello?” I call, wanting to let whoever is here to know that I’m coming in as I walk through the entrance and round the corner.

My steps slow, apprehension swirling through me as the dragons come into view.

Drogonah is the easiest to spot in his rock bed closest to the entrance. A blue one is next to him, also asleep. Doren, I think.

Further down, Agnar rests with Hedoric besides him, and then all the way at the back—on his own, is Escor, the younger dragon.

I bite my lip. He didn’t like me here last time.

“Hello,” I repeat, slowly making my way to Drogonah, grabbing a bucket on the way.

Escor turns his head, huffs out some smoke and then curls up on his side, tucking his black tail under his head.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Reaching Drogonah, I eye the stones next to him and then grab one before placing it before him.

I clear my throat. “Good morning, Drogonah. Rohan said you were out hunting, so I’m sorry for waking you. Can you please heat the stone?”

His ears twitch.

“Please?”

Grumble.

“Drogonah, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.”

He blinks his eyes open and yawns, stretching his front legs out, claws scraping along the stone before his tail rests between them.

He really is huge.

He looks at me when he’s done, and I note the scar that runs through his blind eye, wondering how it got there.

“Does it hurt?” He peels his gums back, and I lean away. “I’ve been set a task to try and… talk to you. Or I guess, any dragon,” I mumble, reaching up and touching my ear. “You know this.”

He stares blankly at me as Doren rumbles before rolling over on his back.

“He wants me to learn and understand because he thinks maybe I can help with the missing eggs.” His ears flick back at that. “I don’t… know how to do this.”

I flap my arms around, the bucket knocking into my leg. “And I’ve never heard of anyone being able to understand dragons, but…” Drogonah stares at me, and I feel foolish for even talking to him. I sigh. “Could you please heat some stones so I can leave you in peace?”

He looks down at the stone before him, the pile next to him, and then back up to me.

He opens his mouth, and relief fills me that he’s going to actually heat them for me this time. But then he snaps it shut, huffs, and lays his head back on his tail.

“Really?” I throw my hands up, dropping the bucket.

I sit on the warm floor, the clang making the blue one growl and I wince.

“I don’t get it,” I whisper to him, rare frustration coming to the surface. “You clearly hate me, for whatever reason. Though, just my existence seems to be a perfect reason. Right? Is it because you didn’t eat me for dinner? That’s not my fault, that’s your Dragonbond’s. He told you not to.”

I pick at my fingers.

“I didn’t ask to be here, you know? In fact.

I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to be sold to a Master, I didn’t want to be a slave and have iron wrapped around my neck for years.

I didn’t want to be beaten or starved or have broken bones, and I didn’t want to come here and be just as hated by everyone, including dragons! ”

I jolt, realizing that I’m shouting, my lungs sucking in heavy breaths as tears sting my eyes.

“I didn’t want any of it. I wanted it to end. I was ready for it.” I sniffle, wiping at my eyes.

My head falls forward, my eyes squeezing shut.

It’s just all so pointless.

I am pointless.

There may be food in my stomach and clothes on my back, but it doesn’t change that I’m being swallowed whole.

It doesn’t change everything that has happened to me, everything that will continue to happen to me.

I know at some point I’ll be passed on to another or back to Master because no one wants me.

That’s how I ended up sold in the first place.

Because no one wants to keep me.

A stupid slave. A disgusting elf. A useless—

Light penetrates my eyelids, followed by gentle heat.

My head snaps up, tears tracking down my cheeks as I watch Drogonah release a small, steady stream of fire onto the stone I placed before him.

I wipe my eyes. He doesn’t look at me, but when the stone is sufficiently heated, he stops, eyes flicking up to me.

Getting to my feet, I grab the bucket and place the stone quickly inside, before putting another stone in front of him and wait.

He watches me while I watch him, and then after a moment, he heats that one too. I don’t dare say another word.

Once I have the bucket full, I grab the handle with both hands and heave it up. I re-wrapped my hands with bandages this morning, well, Rohan did, so the pain isn’t as intense.

I hobble toward the exit of the cave, but I turn to Drogonah before I round the corner.

“Thank you.” I croak out, and he huffs, lays his head back down and goes to sleep, but there’s a small smile gracing my face.

I leave the cave, the snow falling heavier as I make my way back to Rohan’s home. It’s hard work, and I’m sweating and panting once I reach the door to what I’ve started calling the heating room.

Pushing inside and catching my breath, I feel the stones. They’re still really warm, and I wonder if that is because it’s Drogonah’s fire.

I place them on the pillars one by one, trying to be quick about it so I can go inside to the fire for a little while. When I get to the last stone, I know I’m eight short, so I will have to go back after a quick drink.

Heading inside, I place more wood on the fire in the sitting area and warm my hands before taking a drink to soothe my parched throat.

“But she’s useless, Dragonbond. What can we do with a slave?” I hear someone say, and my body tenses, eyes going to the front door that is slightly open.

“I have use for her,” Rohan replies to whoever he’s talking to.

“But we don’t need another mouth to feed, our supplies are low this winter.”

“I’m aware, Rhett.”

“Then when you go to the Enclave for The Games, you should get rid of her. Sell her. An elf will bring nothing but trouble if she’s found out and it could put us all in danger.”