Page 40 of Upon Buried Embers
He grabs my other wrist and places it on her neck, next to his. Slowly, he lets go of the brush and waits a moment. When he grunts, I brush down the way he showed me, sweat beading my brow.
“All creatures do not like surprises, especially dragons. Do not get on Drogonah’s left side without him knowing. He may not stop in time and you will lose an arm.”
I remember hearing the crunch of bone from the sheep and I shiver.
“Braid her mane next, then her tail. We are riding hard today and it needs to be kept out of the way.” I look at the mane in question and swallow roughly.
“I… don’t know how to do that,” I admit. “I’m sorry.” A pause, and my fingers tighten on the brush.
“What?” Rohan turns me with hands on my waist, and the brush tumbles from my fingers. He ignores it, looking down at me, brows furrowed. “You don’t know how to braid?” I shake my head. “Is there anything youcando?”
He growls, and I flinch at the harsh sound, backing into Serah. She moves unexpectedly, leaving me sprawled on the ground.The snow soaks into my clothes, and I wrap my arms around my knees, waiting for the shouting, the kick to the side, the pull of my hair.
It doesn’t come.
Slowly, I peel my eyes open. His boots sink into the snow slightly, and I don’t dare move. Don’t dare to draw any attention as he calms Serah.
“Up, Elf.” I rise without question, hands curling in on each other. “Come to me.” I do that too. Obedience helps. Less hits. Sometimes even a little more bread if I’m quiet through a beating.
He grabs my chin, raising my eyes to his. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but when I start to shiver, he blinks and turns me to the horse.
“You take three strands of hair in your grip like this.” I look at what he’s doing before he growls, “Pick up some hair!” I do as I’m asked, but I’m not tall enough to reach the top. “Morana’s sake.” He throws his head back as he says the Dragon mother’s name.
He turns to me, eyes hard, lethal.
“What did I say about how you representme? You can’t even fucking braid!”
He eyes my tangled mess of hair. “Watch.” The words are a rumble, and some of the other horses shift at the sound, unsettled by his agitation.
I watch as Rohan shows me how to braid, and try to memorize it. I can do this. I learned to sew… eventually, same with planting crops and how to cut meat just right. How to wash clothes if I added a little more water to the soap—
“Are you listening?”
“Y-yes.”
“I should have let you burn alive in The Pit.”
I nod.
Rohan growls.
Serah turns, bumping her nose to Rohan’s chest before her lips rest on my head. I whimper when my hair is tugged slightly, scared she’ll ruin something I love.
I don’t know how to take care of my hair, how to put it in pretty braids, but I love it all the same. It was the only thing I was allowed to secretly love, the only thing that connected me to a family somewhere. Knowing at one point that I did have a sister who brushed it, a mother who created it.
Maybe she cared for me? Held me? Loved me?
But she didn’t keep me.
My hand instinctively comes up to the front of Serah as she nibbles the top of my head, but it doesn’t hurt.
“Of course you like her, Serah.” Rohan grunts, and I drop my hand, taking a step back. “Don’t you dare deny her.” I still, and let Serah continue before she turns, tail swishing as she greets another horse that’s come up to her.
Rohan’s sigh sounds like it comes from his soul, and I can’t say I don’t feel that.
“Come, we will eat in my tent.”
He grabs the rope and attaches it to himself once again, and I follow, shivering.
