Page 35 of Upon Buried Embers
I quickly get out and dress while he’s not looking.
“Sit.” He points to the other cushion next to him and I walk through the curtain and kneel as he ordered. A dragon roars in the distance, causing me to flinch.
He chuckles at my expense, and I scowl down at my fingers, playing with the end of the tunic.
I don’t find it funny. There were rats in the barn, and Master had some horses and pigs I was allowed to feed but not touch. We had a cat once, until Master killed it, but I haven’t been near dragons.
“Drogonah is grumpy in the mornings, you will get used to it.”
I don’t want to.
“Breakfast!”
A woman comes in, her hair high in a braided knot. She carries a tray with an assortment of food, and she lowers herself next to the table as she places the bowls out.
Steam rises from the heat of it, my mouth once again watering at the smells.
“Anything else, Dragonbond?” the woman murmurs, head bowed a little.
Is she afraid of him too?
“No, Saelon,” Rohan moves the bowls around as she exits the tent, leaving us alone.
He grabs an empty bowl and starts filling it with what must be broth, followed by a chunk of bread. I bow my head as my stomach rumbles aloud, and I grip it, hunger pains shooting through me.
“Here.” Broth sloshes over the bowl as it’s placed down in front of me, and I stare at it. “It will not eat itself.” A spoon is shoved next to it.
I peek at Rohan as he tears into some bread, dipping it into his broth. He must sense my eyes on him as he turns, looking at me sharply.
I suck in a startled breath, my head bowing once more, and I see his hand coming for me.
I curl in on myself, my eyes squeezing shut.
The air stills, a growl coming from him before my chin is grabbed harshly.
“Look at me.” I cannot refuse the command. His tone, though quiet, has that dragon rumble to it.
His eyes are deadly when my gaze meets his.
“You’re mine now. I found you. I took you. As you are now within my clan, I can’t have you looking so…weak.” He spits the word like he tasted something awful.
“You’re an extension of me, and I hold nothing but strength and honor.” He shakes my chin a little. “You will not makemelook weak, you will not embarrass me, and you will if you do not eat.” He lets go of my chin and shoves a spoon at me. “So. Fucking eat.”
I do as I’m told, with shaking hands that show my fear, but I eat the whole bowl, even though my stomach protests. His words rattle around in my head.
I’mhisnow.
For what, I don’t know, but that’s what I am to him.
To do what I’m told, to not make him look bad.
Men are all the same.
They want someone to be less than they are, to make themselves seem more.
To be Bigger. Better.
I may be weak, I may be quiet, but my silence can also be a strength, a secret one.
