Page 20 of Forcing Fate

“Sergeant!” the General barked, his shout making me jump.

Willhelm cast another glance my way, probably concerned I would wander outside. He headed out, following the General, and I heaved a sigh, deflating and losing all the false pride I had mustered.

Perhaps he remembered my father, perhaps not. He hadn’t dismissed me, though. But he left me in his tent. How often would he return? He gave me no task, but I had to prove I wasn’t an insignificant child. I was more than a servant or a footstool. My gender did not dictate my value, with or without a dragon.

Chapter Six

I soon learned that General Rafe was more than cold, hard, and brash. His personality bordered on cruel.

I tidied up the tent, which took the span of a few breaths, then stood there wondering what to do. I secured the tent flap to the post so I could see outside and watch the inspections. Barely half a chime passed when a soldier glanced my way with a wide grin. He was young, perhaps younger than his twentieth winter. I offered a small smile back, and within a blink of an eye, General Rafe stood before the entryway.

He cut off any greeting I might have offered. “Do you want to put on a show for the soldiers?” he demanded as his eyes wandered my body with rakish abandon.

My stomach turned at his insinuation. “No, sir,” I bit out.

“Then make yourself scarce.”

He spit the words with such venom, I could almost feel them singe my skin. I shot out from the tent, squeezing past him and toward the mill of soldiers.

“Girl!” he growled.

Taking a calming breath, I forced myself to stop and face him, heat nipping at my cheeks. As I turned, he tossed a bundle of black fabric. I fumbled to catch it as it collided with my chest. Without another word, he walked off for the training field. My jaw clenched tight as I examined what he’d thrown at me. A cloak. I shook as I put it on. Whether my trembling was due to fear or anger, I didn’t know. Probably both. The heavy cloak was far too big on me and reeked of sweat. Disgust wrinkled my nose as I pulled up the hood and wrapped the garment around myself. As I started for the nearest building, I kept my head down and tried to hide the hem of my dress from peeking out.

Shadows concealed me from curious stares, and I slumped against the wall. Should I go back to the dorm secretary and let her know I was not welcome here? That General Rafe refused me?

My spine stiffened as soon as the thought crossed my mind. A dragonling already rejected me. I would not be spurned by a General—especially when my only task was to assist him. I refused to fail. My mind raced, seeking something, anything he might need, any way that I could make myself valuable.

The midday chime rang and several men looked toward the dining hall with longing. That sparked an idea, and I left the safety of the shadows to walk to the main street. I had a rough idea of where I was, thanks to Willhelm’s intensive descriptions of the area. The parchments I studied during my time aiding Master Damon helped as well.

I headed down the road, keeping my head low and the cloak wrapped around me. If anyone thought it odd that someone would wear an over-cloak on a warm spring day, they were too busy to stop and question me. My quick and purposeful pace brought me to the armory office. At the sound of clanging metal, I rounded the building and found Elib at the forge.

“Good Day!” I called.

Elib lifted his head, goggles concealing his kind eyes. “Miss Avyanna?”

He returned his work to the forge and pulled up his goggles as I drew back my hood. Soot and grime covered his face, except for two moon-shaped circles around his eyes. I smiled and leaned over the gate to his work area.

“Elib, could you tell me where I could fetch some food for General Rafe? Would I be able to get him a tray at the dining hall?”

He looked at me as if I had grown a third head. “He sent you to fetch his meal?”

“No, I wish to fetch it for him of my own accord.”

“He won’t eat it, miss.”

I shrugged. “If he’s not hungry now, maybe he’ll eat it later when he has a chance.”

“No, you misunderstand.” He came to stand closer to me, as if the distance kept me from hearing well. “He won’t eat anything he doesn’t prepare himself. He doesn’t dine with the men.”

I tilted my head, puzzled. Why would he distrust food so? Perhaps he had been poisoned once, though surely he knew there was no reason to distrust the people here. They would serve with him. We were united in the same goal.

“What does he eat? Only what he can hunt?”

“That, and what he forages,” Elib agreed.

So even if I brought him bread and water, he would probably deny it. He had so many duties as a General already. To add the task of providing his own food to that list seemed ludicrous. I didn’t want to give up. I latched onto this idea like a dog with a bone. If he had to work that hard for his food, in his free time, no less, I wanted to help him. I just had to think of a way.

“Elib, are there markets in the barracks?”

---