Page 32 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)
“He’s… a bit grumpy.” That has his head whipping back around and he snaps his jaw at me.
I jump.
“Behave,” Rohan warns him. He huffs. “Escor hasn’t been with us long. We found him in the wild last year just as the leaves began to fall, and he hasn’t left since.”
I frown and turn to look at him, and his dark eyes don’t stray from mine. “His mother?”
“Presumed dead.” Escor turns his head away from me.
Sadness washes over me. “When do hatchlings go off on their own from their mother?”
“Depends,” Rohan says. “Some don’t leave their mother until adulthood, around eight years, others leave as young as two years old.”
“So young,” I murmur.
“Not really. Hatchlings are ready to survive on their own from one year, some are just too clingy to leave. Escor was fine in the wild. He’s nearly three.”
Three and he’s that size already?!
“He must have been lonely though,” I gaze at the dragon. “Why else would he stay?”
“To annoy Drogonah.”
I smile at that, and Rohan slowly moves toward me. He drops down and places his legs on either side of me. He’s right in front of me now, surrounding me with his heat and scent, and I can’t look away.
“Just like with Escor, those that I deem mine are here to stay.”
I look down, sighing.
Such nice words always hold a secret poison.
“I’m a slave, it doesn’t matter in the end, it never does.”
He grunts, then his hand is on my chin once more, guiding my eyes back to him. “The moment I set my eyes on you, the term slave was removed from your being.”
I scoff, angry tears prickling. The metal on my neck feels like it’s pulling me down, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed, not used to anyone saying such things to me.
Not used to wanting to believe them.
“I’m still a slave, just a different type. You can tell me nice words, you can allow me to move around your camp, you can even say you want me in your… in your bed, but I’m not free , Dragonbond.”
His jaw tics, his hand clenching at his side and I eye it warily.
“I took you for a purpose you need to fulfill, yes, but isn’t your life better here than where you were?”
I get to my feet and move over to the stones near Drogonah. Grabbing one, I place it before him.
“Please heat the stone.”
To my surprise, he does, his gaze flicking up to me and I step back, the heat of his flames warming me further, a buzzing sensation underneath my skin.
“I may be fed here,” I say to Rohan, my back still to him. “I may have shelter, I may be warm, but the physical is just one part of the soul.”
“What does the physical part feel like?”
“Warm, full… not hurting as much, I guess.”
“And the other parts?” he asks, his breath tickling my ear as he comes up behind me, but I don’t turn to him, don’t take my eyes off the flames.
“The others are of the mind, of the heart.”
“What does your heart say?”
“It’s confused.”
“And your mind?”
Dying.
I pick up the stone and put it in the bucket, not answering. He doesn’t push me and I continue to collect more heat stones. Rohan fills his own bucket with them, but I feel his eyes on me.
Curious, concerned.
We walk back to his home in silence after that, and he even helps me place the stones underneath to heat the rooms above.
When we enter his cabin, he tells me to sit at the table. I remove my cloak and sit on the floor. Rohan goes to the bedroom and I hear him rifling around before he joins me, placing a book on the table.
It has a sketch of a dragon’s head on the front, with two words at the bottom. It must be who wrote it.
Though it doesn’t seem to have many pages, it looks well read, the pages crinkled at the sides, and there’s no dust on it whatsoever.
I flip through the pages, the words blurring, but all colors of dragons are in here with sketches of them and what must be descriptions.
I run my finger over the black dragon that looks so much like Drogonah, I would be surprised if it wasn’t.
“This will tell you the dragon types, some of the information we know of them. Make sure to read it so when we arrive at The Games, you’re equipped with the knowledge of what kinds of dragons will be there.”
“I definitely need to know?” I look at him as he hands me a cup of water.
“Yes. The king chooses to put in a selection, but we don’t know whether we’re going against man, woman, dragon, or all.”
King Halen doesn’t play fair.
I swallow roughly. “I’ve never been to The Games.”
He eyes me. “Probably because they didn’t want you to be discovered. If King Halen knew an Elf was in Dracozar, he wouldn’t hesitate to take them.”
“Why?” What did we ever do?
“Because he wants your land and he would try to extract information.”
“I don’t know anything though.”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s a reason elves kill themselves rather than be taken to him.”
“They do?”
He nods.
“So it’s best to keep hidden, and you will start to train.”
I splutter. “Train?”
“Combat.”
I freeze, placing the cup on the table with a shaky hand. “I... I don’t fight.”
“I can tell.”
Embarrassment burns through me.
“I didn’t ask to be raised how I was!” His eyes flash to mine.
“You have fire, Elf. Someone just needs to breathe into it for it to ignite.”
I’m skin and bone, I have… nothing.
“You will train with Calian. I would usually have Kaldar, but as you have been around Calian, it would be better for you to train with someone you’re comfortable with.
” I wouldn’t say I’m comfortable around him, his glare is scary.
“And we’ll go to Bellamy to get you fitted with armor.
Escor looks like he can shed some scales.
If you ask his permission, Bellamy can craft them into your armor. ”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“You’re a survivor,” the conviction in his tone makes my heart pound.
“They’re the same thing, they just look different.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask as he takes a thick piece of his hair and holds it out to me.
I begin to braid before I know it, easing into the familiar pattern.
“The eyes do not lie, no matter the words, the body.”
I think about that. “And if you can’t see the eyes?”
“Then those parts of the soul you speak about will guide you.”
I’m not sure about that.
“Let me tell you more about the dragon games.”