Page 47 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Elf

Frelia nudges Rohan, a gentle purr coming from her. I watch them from where I sit by the campfire, the night sky twinkling with too many stars to count. I tried to light it, but by the time I retrieved the flint and stone, Rohan had already gotten it burning.

Drogonah lies ahead, fast asleep, head on tail. He seems more relaxed than I would expect when another dragon is near, but he must trust Frelia.

“Go, now,” Rohan tells her, then he makes his way over, taking a seat across from me. “You’re smiling,” he says, and I reach up and touch my mouth.

“I am,” I reply softly, watching him over the flickering flames when he grabs his axe and starts to run something over the edge of it.

“Makes it sharp,” he says, not once looking up. “An axe is only as good as the care we give it.”

How bizarre. “What of a sword?” I ask, biting into a piece of bread.

He nods. “It’s the same for all manner of things. Sword, bucket, dragon.” His gaze flicks to Drogonah, and then to me. “People.”

“People? How so?”

He continues to sharpen the blade. “If I didn’t take care of my clan, they wouldn’t be willing to follow orders.”

“Fear does that also.”

“It does,” he agrees. “But that does not come with loyalty.”

I can see that.

I listen to the fire crackling and the sound of Rohan sharpening his axe as I eat my bread.

It’s calm here, warm and nice.

The dragons roar and rumble in the distance but I’m not that afraid of it.

“Will you tell me about your family?” I ask, after I’m done with my meal. At his furrowed brow I continue. “Your mother… will you tell me about her?”

He’s quiet for a moment, switching his attention to the other blade on his axe.

“My mother died ten years ago,” he begins, eyes averted.

“She was… a lot.” He huffs out a laugh at that.

“But she was the strongest woman I know. She made sure to instill honor in me, to fight for what’s right, even if everyone else follows what is wrong. ”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was,” he says softly. “But cross her and you would know about it. Everyone in the clan sure did, and others.”

“You grew up in the clan you’re in now?” He nods. “What about your father? Do you have any siblings?” I ask, eager to know more.

He pauses at that. “The only family I have is my clan. Kaldar, I’ve known for a long time, he’s as close to me as a brother.

The same with Calian. Dorkin came after.

He didn’t like the city much, so he’s been with us for around seven years.

Adora, well, she’s a fierce warrior, she’s hard to ignore.

Asseya has been like a grandmother since I saved her. ”

“I like her,” I say, taking a drink.

“I do too.” He tears at some meat. “What about you? What is your mother like?”

I pause for a moment, eyes on the flames, not expecting the question.

“I don’t remember much,” I begin, my eyes flicking up to him. “The first memory I have is of my sister rushing me to leave, like she was panicked or scared. I begged her to come with me but she said they couldn’t.” His brows furrow. “She said she would find me, but she hasn’t.”

“Who is your sister?”

I shrug. “I have no idea.” My hands touch the metal around my neck.

“Do you want to find them?” Rohan asks, and I glance his way.

“My family?” At his nod, I continue. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To find out if I was loved, if there was a reason I had to go. To belong somewhere.”

I lean back on my hands, glancing up at the stars.

Did my mother love me? Did my father know of me? Does my sister miss me?

Rohan walks around the fire and lays down at my side.

“If you want, after The Games, I could help you find them?”

My eyes widen as I look down at him. “Really?” he nods, and I turn fully to him. “But how could we do that? The king’s army is always at the border.”

He reaches up, playing with a strand of my hair. It’s loose tonight, Rohan leaving the braiding until morning.

“We’ll find a way. We could fly over there, but the last time I did, I never saw any elves.”

“You’ve been there?”

“ Over there, in the sky.”

“What was it like?” I ask, eager to know.

“Full of trees,” he huffs, twirling a strand around his finger. “So many trees, lakes and waterfalls. The only really clear space was this huge field full of yellow flowers. Harts were running wild.”

“Wow,” I breathe, imagining it as I lay down fully, eyes closed. “I bet it was beautiful.”

“It was,” he mutters, and I peel my eyes open to find his already on mine.

I reach up slowly and trace my fingers over the last braid I did, happy with my improvement.

“How did you become Dragonbond?”

His eyes close on a hum. “You’re asking a lot of questions, Elf.”

“Oh, sorry.” I take my hand away, but he grabs my fingers and brings them to his mouth first before putting them back on his braid.

“I was eighteen,” he says, voice subdued.

“You’ve been a Dragonbond since you were eighteen? Clan leader?”

He nods.

What power he holds to do that at such a young age.

“When my mother died, I wandered aimlessly for a while after my fit of rage. I ended up at The Glade just before the Blessing, kind of like now. I was still full of anger and grief, not caring of the consequences. Before I knew it, I was face-to-face with Drogonah.”

I glance at the dragon in question, his purple eye on us. “He was in The Glade?”

“He lived there.”

No wonder he flew off as soon as he was here, and he’s comfortable with Frelia. He knows them.

“He was furious, of course.” Rohan continues. “Who dares enter his presence without his say so?” I laugh, and Rohan echoes it. Drogonah growls. “But I stared at him, uncaring, standing my ground and he must have seen something in me, because I left a Dragonbond, Morana’s magic binding us.”

I listen to his every word, fascinated with his story.

“I never wanted to become a leader, but my mother vowed I would become a mighty Dragonbond someday.”

“She was right,” I say softly, and he glances at me.

“I hope so,” his reply is just as quiet.

“How do you bond?” My hand goes to the ribbons on his arm.

“You are full of questions tonight,” he hums, clearly amused.

He looks up at the night sky, arms resting behind his head.

“The dragon begins it, and their chosen ends it. We don’t speak of it, the bonding is generally a private thing between those involved.

” He lifts an arm and looks at the ribbon wrapped around it.

“Drogonah didn’t do anything but stare at me, and I stared back. ”

“Really?”

“Really. And then I cut my palm and placed it upon his chest, completing the binding.”

“What about…” I start, wanting to know but afraid to ask, looking at his forearms. Knowing that the scars are hidden beneath them.

Rohan glances at me, and he must see the question in my eyes.

“Drogonah is the largest dragon, fierce. Known for many others failing to bond with him. Many have gone up to him and tried—and failed, frightened to ever attempt it again after he scared them off. So when I walked out of The Glade, Drogonah at my back, it’s hard to deny that I’m a Dragonbond, scales or no scales in place. ”

That makes sense.

“That’s all it takes? Just walking up to a dragon to see if they will bond you?”

He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. It’s like these tiny invisible strands wrap around you both, unseen but tied. Unbreakable, yet fragile in the right circumstances.”

“It can break?”

“It can. Though it doesn’t kill them if they break it, and they can bond to someone else to become a Dragonbond. Though there’s only one instance I know of that had a bond broken.”

“Who?”

He smiles sadly. “My mother.”

His mother was a Dragonbond, I realize. The last leader of the Blackscale Clan.

I curl up next to Rohan, my hand wrapping around his forearm. “That makes me sad.”

“It was sad,” he mutters before taking a deep breath.

“What happened to her dragon? Your mother’s?”

He sighs. “I hoped she would be free to go where she pleased.”

“I hope they’re okay.”

“She. She’s female.”

“What was her name?”

“Herja.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“She’s a pretty dragon. I remember when I was a small boy she used to curl around me while my mother had chores to do, and I would jump on her back and bite her horns.”

“Bite?” A burst of laughter comes from me.

“Yeah,” he smiles ruefully. “I thought it would make my teeth sharper.”

I laugh harder at that, imagining a little Rohan on a dragon’s neck, chomping at her horns.

“Is that funny, Elf?” Rohan asks, and then he’s on top of me, tickling me.

“Ahh,” I wiggle away from his hands but it’s no use. I laugh the loudest I ever have, the longest I ever have, while Rohan grins down at me.

“Okay, okay,” I tell him breathlessly.

His hands still on my hips. “Give up?”

“I give up.” Slumping under him, I try and catch my breath as his hands lift to either side of my head, eyes darkening.

“Too easy,” he hums, mouth inches from mine. “What easy prey you are, hmm?” I blink up at him, licking my lips.

His eyes flare, that ring of purple almost glowing, and with such intense focus, he traces my lips, pushing the bottom one in a little. I suck in a sharp breath, my heart hammering and I wiggle a little before he closes his eyes, body tense.

“Rohan,” I say, my voice unsure, and then he takes a deep breath, maneuvering us.

He lays half on top of me, heavy arm around my waist, chin resting on top of my head. I’m completely surrounded in a way I’ve come to love. So warm and protected.

“Sleep now,” he murmurs. I close my eyes as I reach up and grab a strand of his hair, holding it.

“Elf?”

“Hmm,” I hum, already half asleep.

“You do belong somewhere,” he says, holding me tighter. “You belong here with me.”

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.