Page 26 of Forcing Fate

When he started wearing the black tunics, I was both proud and afraid. Proud because I had mended them, and he thought well enough of my work to wear them in public. And fearful because they were tailored to him. They outlined every single bulging muscle. When he wore them, he looked every bit the fearsome War General.

On rare occasions, I finished the mending early. Though more often than not, it took me all day to finish. Especially when he had lost buttons. A man might not think buttons were that difficult to sew, and they weren’t, but they were elusive. Buttons were a fine detail, one that most people couldn’t afford. Commoners used ties to fasten their garments, not tiny whittled pieces of wood. Buttons looked so much better, but if you lost them, they were much harder to replace.

After I completed any mending, I replaced the washing water. And if I had any time left over, I observed the inspections.

Willhelm’s company met General Rafe’s standards, for which I was grateful. Willhelm kept his men in top shape and worked hard to make sure they stayed sharp. I didn’t want him suffering for his men, though I knew he would in a heartbeat.

The soldiers’ abilities left me in awe. Whether it was archery on horseback or sword fighting, or brute strength—they applied themselves completely to their tasks. They did nothing halfheartedly.

I wondered how it would feel when I was trained in archery or sword skills, if there was something I’d be more adept at. Martial skills wouldn’t be my priority, but they’d still be something I’d attain. Learning to control a dragonling’s blood-magic was of the highest importance for a Rider.

The week passed quickly—faster than I would have thought. My nights ended with splitting headaches from being bent over the mending, but I was able to see so much more of the army than I ever had.

I was thankful I had not given up after that first day. General Rafe treated me no better, yet no worse. Perhaps he knew it was because I helped him by mending his clothes, or perhaps he was finally just getting used to me. We barely spoke. He usually just glared and tossed whatever clothing at me that required mending. I didn’t mind. The less he spoke, the less he could hurt me.

Chapter Eight

I woke feeling like I had just fallen asleep. Rubbing my eyes, I rolled over, burrowing into my blanket as I counted the chimes. The thin scrap of fabric did nothing to fend off the morning chill. Seven chimes meant it was time for me to rise, though I had no motivation to.

Yesterday had been the last of the company inspections, and I had no desire to ask General Rafe what he planned for today. I assumed Willhelm would escort me to the General’s rooms or wherever he trained—if he was even up this early. Of course, he’d be up already. I had never risen earlier than him. By the time I made it to his tent, his daily activities were always in full swing.

I groaned and pushed my feet over the edge of the cot, stood, and stretched. My body ached, every muscle tight and sore, though not from physical activity. The constant hours bent over, mending his blasted clothing destroyed my back and neck. How did a General manage to do so much damage to his garments? I didn’t know. I was thankful that I would be a Dragon Rider and not a seamstress for my trade. What a miserable job, bent over all day and go to sleep with terrible headaches.

The cold floor bit at my feet as I shuffled over to my glorified vanity. I washed my face and rinsed my mouth out, looking at myself in the mirror. Dark circles hung under my eyes, physical indications of my lack of sleep. My night terrors of bonding with a dragonling were getting worse. They’d likely reach their peak right before Hatching Day. I knew when a dragonling chose me, they would pass. Shoving those thoughts aside, I threaded my hair into a quick braid down my back.

My beige dress was still damp from last night’s washing. I refused to wear my battered brown working-dress to the barracks, and my gray gown was far too formal for any kind of strenuous activity. With longing, I glanced at my blue dress, the prickleberry stains still evident. I wondered if I would ever bring myself to wear it again, knowing the pain and disappointment I went through to get those stains. I should pass it to some gardener, cook, or maid who would wear an apron over it. That would cover the majority of the ruined fabric, at least.

After dressing, I tucked my orders in my pocket and reached for my sandals. Yesterday was rather warm, and by the day’s bright sun and cloudless sky, I assumed today would be as well. As I picked them up, I noticed a strap hanging on by a few threads. Dragging my hand down my face, I set them down. I would either need to mend them or buy a new pair, as they were a bit small on my feet.

Pulling on my boots, I did my very best not to think about today. Once I completed my assignment with General Rafe, I was due to assist the barracks’ Horse Master. I was excited about that. I could safely think about what the horses had in store for me while ignoring the immediate day in front of me.

Outside of my few riding lessons, I rarely had reason to be around the large creatures, but they were always calm and kind. From the finely boned riding horses to the thick and strong workhorses, they all seemed to resonate with their own beauty and grace.

When I entered the common room, I grinned at the fresh berries that were on the tables. Finally, we had reached harvest season. I took a roll and a handful of red berries and seated myself at a table beside a familiar face.

Meredith was an older woman with faded gray hair. Hidden among the many wrinkles lining her face were the deep crinkle marks of smile lines around her mouth and eyes. She was one of the few women I enjoyed being near.

“Good morn, Meredith,” I greeted.

She looked up with an answering smile. “Good morn, Avyanna. What brings you to grace an old woman with your presence?”

“I thought you might grace me with the answer to a question,” I replied with a playful wink. “Do you know where Master Elenor might be?”

The old woman took a sip of her tea, peering over the rim of her cup before answering. “What is it that you need, dear?”

“I just wanted to let her know I was in the market for some work to earn spare coin,” I explained, eating a few berries.

“Ah, it seems as though everyone is in the market for extra coin these days. There simply aren’t enough jobs to go around.”

I frowned at her response. That meant the students who inquired before me would have the first choice of any available work.

“Don’t look so gloomy, I’ll pass on your request if you would like. Master Elenor is currently upbraiding the laundry maids for batting their lashes at the men who bring them laundry from the barracks.”

I grimaced in disgust, and Meredith gave a good chuckle. “I know, dear. Can you imagine flirting with a man who brought you their sweat-stained under-breeches?” She cackled, and I joined in.

Already my chest felt lighter. When was the last time I had a good laugh?

If that was some form of flirtation, to bring someone your dirty under-breeches, I had no desire to bat my eyes at any man.

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