Page 153 of Upon Buried Embers
“I like her,” I say, taking a drink.
“I do too.” He tears at some meat. “What about you? What is your mother like?”
I pause for a moment, eyes on the flames, not expecting the question.
“I don’t remember much,” I begin, my eyes flicking up to him. “The first memory I have is of my sister rushing me to leave, like she was panicked or scared. I begged her to come with me but she said they couldn’t.” His brows furrow. “She said she would find me, but she hasn’t.”
“Who is your sister?”
I shrug. “I have no idea.” My hands touch the metal around my neck.
“Do you want to find them?” Rohan asks, and I glance his way.
“My family?” At his nod, I continue. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To find out if I was loved, if there was a reason I had to go. To belong somewhere.”
I lean back on my hands, glancing up at the stars.
Did my mother love me? Did my father know of me? Does my sister miss me?
Rohan walks around the fire and lays down at my side.
“If you want, after The Games, I could help you find them?”
My eyes widen as I look down at him. “Really?” he nods, and I turn fully to him. “But how could we do that? The king’s army is always at the border.”
He reaches up, playing with a strand of my hair. It’s loose tonight, Rohan leaving the braiding until morning.
“We’ll find a way. We could fly over there, but the last time I did, I never saw any elves.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Overthere, in the sky.”
“What was it like?” I ask, eager to know.
“Full of trees,” he huffs, twirling a strand around his finger. “So many trees, lakes and waterfalls. The only really clear space was this huge field full of yellow flowers. Harts were running wild.”
“Wow,” I breathe, imagining it as I lay down fully, eyes closed. “I bet it was beautiful.”
“It was,” he mutters, and I peel my eyes open to find his already on mine.
I reach up slowly and trace my fingers over the last braid I did, happy with my improvement.
“How did you become Dragonbond?”
His eyes close on a hum. “You’re asking a lot of questions, Elf.”
“Oh, sorry.” I take my hand away, but he grabs my fingers and brings them to his mouth first before putting them back on his braid.
“I was eighteen,” he says, voice subdued.
“You’ve been a Dragonbond since you were eighteen? Clan leader?”
He nods.
What power he holds to do that at such a young age.
“When my mother died, I wandered aimlessly for a while after my fit of rage. I ended up at The Glade just before the Blessing, kind of like now. I was still full of anger and grief, not caring of the consequences. Before I knew it, I was face-to-face with Drogonah.”
