Page 53 of Forcing Fate

“Your life is not your own, Avyanna. You are not an island.”

Chapter Fifteen

The next few days were more or less the same, a repetitive blur. I refused to leave my room, unwilling to face anyone. Every morning, Master Elenor brought me something to eat, then sat and told me of her tasks. Then every evening, Master Niehm brought my evening meal and spoke of her day. She never mentioned Valden again. I sensed that particular wound was still open and sore, considering she never took a life mate.

“There’s a package for you this morn,” Master Elenor said as she entered.

I rolled onto my side, seeing the parcel wrapped in brown paper tucked under her arm.

“Our resident General has requested you do his mending.” She set it beside me. “Again.”

Opening it hesitantly, I noted the trousers and sewing notations inside. “One would wonder what he does to ruin his clothes so often,” I mumbled, jabbing a finger through the hole in the fabric.

“Oh, I have a vague idea.” Master Elenor placed a roll and apple on the table and took up her perch on the stool.

“Really? Is he simply that rough on clothes?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to be that hard on clothing, darling.”

I removed my finger from the hole and reached for the needle and thread. “What is it then?” I asked.

I was still rather depressed, but felt somewhat eager to set myself to this task. It was familiar to me at this point. The only sure thing in my life seemed to be that General Rafe damaged his clothes, then sent them to me for mending. I threaded the needle and started sewing.

“General Rafe is,” she trailed off, and glanced at the ceiling as if searching for the right word, “disruptive.”

“So I’ve noticed,” I concurred with a nod, thinking back on every unsettling incident between us.

Master Elenor eyed me, and I wasn’t sure if she’d heard of his actions toward me.

“He’s volatile,” I added.

“That he is.” She pursed her lips. “Being as such, I’m certain there’s ample opportunity for him to be caught up in… clashes of will.”

Was she implying that he got into fights?

“When he inspected the companies, there was a fight, though I don’t know any details,” I offered.

She chuckled and stood to check over my mending. “I believe that involved a Commander who disagreed with the General’s grade of his companies.”

She nodded her approval of my stitching and sat back down. I thought Master Elenor would be above common gossip. She bristled, likely noticing the glint of mirth on my face.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” She waved me off. “I’m not a gossipmonger. I am the Master of Women. As such, I hear a great many things. For weeks, the ladies in the laundry rooms had nothing better to do than complain how dreadful the General was for destroying such a handsome face.”

I kept my smile in check as I minded my stitches. Wasn’t she gossiping about the General to me right now?

A fortnight passed, and my spirits fluctuated. Some days… a dark cloud smothered my heart, and I felt as though my life wasn’t worth living—like Valden. And others, everything seemed alright, like I could brave the world. I would sit up in bed and talk with Master Elenor and Master Niehm about their days, and about the other women and students.

They never pressured me to speak of my future, and for that, I was thankful. They were just there. Master Niehm and I shared desserts after the evening meal. And every so often, Master Elenor came for a cup of tea, just to relax after a stressful day. The two of them were good friends who grew up in Northwing as I had. Master Elenor was ten years Niehm’s senior, but they shared the same dry wit and humor.

Tonight, sleep evaded me. My mind was restless, wondering what the next day had in store. More of the same, I assumed. A crushing weight settled on my chest, and I was unable to escape the feeling that my life… was not my own. I had lost all control, watching as everything slipped from my grasp.

A dragon bellowed near the dorms, and I froze. I’d successfully ignored the beasts for the most part, as long as I avoided my window. Part of me wanted to dismiss the magnificent creatures altogether and discover what else life offered. Yet, after everything, I was still drawn to them. Every second was a battle to keep thoughts of them from my mind.

I now understood why no refused ever remained on school grounds. No one should have to live hearing the calls of their dreams, knowing they would never be fulfilled.

A second dragon answered the bellow and my mind launched into questioning why they called to each other. Dragons did not speak to one another like humans used the common tongue. They were far more intelligent than any living beast, yet they were bound by the language of animals. I imagined that was what saved us from them during the War of Dragons and Men. If they conversed like humans, we wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Dragons relied on their Riders for communication. They had their own ways of showing their feelings, whether it was a snort aimed at insulting another dragon, or a croon to a hatchling.

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