Page 173 of Upon Buried Embers
“That’s okay,” he says gently. “We’ll figure—”
“Elf?!” Rohan says, rushing forward and shoving Beau out of the way. “What are you doing here?”
“Rohan!” I chastise, reaching to help Beau up but his hand snaps out. “Do not touch him right now, you will not like what will happen.”
I swallow roughly and give Beau an apologetic look.
He mouths, “it’s okay” before heading toward Tofa, who now has Darcia’s hair in her grasp as Calian tries to untangle it.
“Elf,” the rumbly voice comes again.
He shouldn’t call me that in front of all these people.
The crowd is a plethora of colored ribbons. Everyone is probably here.
“Elf,” Rohan says again, and my eyes lock with his confused ones. “What happened? Why…” His eyes drop to my throat, and he stills. “What. Is. That?” He grits out, and I eye the crowd warily.
“Maybe we should—”
“Start talking. Now!” he shouts, and I flinch at the sudden outburst.
He curses, then rises, pacing back and forth.
I sit there in the dirt, holding on to my hood as if it will hide me away. He looks from me to Tofa, then to Darcia, Rhett, and back to me.
His brows furrow as he takes me in, as Tofa is shouting to kill Darcia, and I see the moment it clicks. The way he stops pacingand slowly… so very slowly, turns to Darcia who is now Tofa-free thanks to Beau and Calian’s help.
“Oh my Gods, Rohan,” Darcia gasps, stumbling toward him, wiping her face. “They’re insane! I did nothing to—thwack.
Everyone gasps when Rohan backhands her, and she cries out and falls to the floor, holding her cheek.
“R-Rohan.” I stutter.
“Youdaretouch her? You darehurther?” I can feel his anger from here, tension rising.
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rohan turns his head and looks at me. “It was her, wasn’t it? The bruises, who hurt you?!” I avert my eyes. “You fucking…”
I get to my feet and rush over to him, placing my palm on his chest as he advances on her.
He stops, instantly.
The heat coming off of him is like fire, his chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes focused on a whimpering Darcia.
“Rohan,” I say, and when he doesn’t acknowledge me, I start to rub what I hope is soothing circles on his chest. “Rohan, can you look at me?”
“Careful, Short Stack,” Calian calls, but even he stays where he is, Kaldar at his side, Adora next to him.
Dorkin is at the edge, arms folded and then I spot Sigrid, dagger in her hand, and when she sees me looking, she nods in encouragement.
“Rohan.” I reach up and touch the braid on the side of his head, the one I did this morning and gently tug at it.
That gets his attention, his eyes slowly dropping to mine.
“I don’t want to be here,” I mumble. “Can we go back to the tent?” His eyes drop to my neck, and his nostrils flare.
“Shehurtyou.” He growls, his chest rumbling and Drogonah roars behind us, causing people to move away from him.
