Page 73 of Upon Buried Embers
The fire in the middle of camp flares and sparks, still alight and roaring in the winter wind, yet it’s somewhat contained in its large, stone circle.
Dragorie sit around it, either on the ground or on wooden logs, drinking and eating. They’re celebrating their Dragonbond’s safe return.
A dragon, Blaise, sits off to the side, squeezed in between two tents, aiming fire at the one in the middle to keep it alight. I eye him warily, but he preens under others’ attention when they pet him. Even the little girl, Melle, stroked his leg, and the dragon didn’t so much as stare at her harshly.
They’re… cohabitating, like one big family.
People converse, laughing and joking, play-fighting, and some are even playing games with dice outside of a tent. Another couple is cuddling against a log, his hand up her tunic. She doesn’t seem to mind the attention if the blush on her cheeks lets us know anything.
Where’s the rape and abuse? The harming of others, the cruelty?
I sit on my own log, no one daring to sit next to me like I’m some parasite, and it makes me miss Effy.
We would sit in the store room and she would sneak me some food, then she’d tell me about her day and ask me about mine. She would brush the hair away from my face and tell me to keep my chin up, that I’m okay, even though I never was.
Tears sting my eyes. I miss her. She’s my only friend and she helped me clean the wounds Master gave me, and she pleaded on my behalf to let me out of the barn sooner, no matter if it got her hurt.
The least I can do is get her away from Master before I go. Maybe I can ask Rohan to find her somewhere to live out the rest of her days.
I sigh and observe everyone who either gives me curious looks or ignores me completely.
They seem happy to be here, excited for the feast to start and for their leader to return after going off and speaking to the one he called Dorkin. There were mentions of spies and I can only think he was referring to me, though it seems Rohan took my word that I’m not one.
It’s laughable, honestly. Me, a spy?
I pick at my fingers, lowering my head as Darcia walks past with Rhett and Beau, who gives me an apologetic smile.
He doesn’t need to do that.
I’m the outsider.
Murmurs arise a little while later, and I tear my eyes away from the fire as Rohan arrives, Kaldar and Dorkin with him. Everyone seems to quiet down when he clears his throat.
“Blackscale,” Rohan says, loud enough for all to hear, but not shouting.
“Dragonbond!” The rumbling of their voices startle me.
“Thank you all for keeping the camp in order and making warm meals upon our return. We succeeded in The Pit. We have sourced lava for our blacksmith, but it came at a cost.”
They stay silent while he speaks, and I watch Rohan standing before his clan, tall and proud, full of honor and respect as Drogonah flies overhead, circling the darkening sky.
“Tonight, we lay Ethal and Aron to rest and guide them to Morana.” Murmurs of agreements erupt. “Before that, as you’re well aware by now, we have another among us.” All heads turn to me, and I pull my knees up to my chest. “I took the elf, she’s under my claim. She has other business being here, but she will help with the daily chores of clan life.”
“She’s a spy,” someone says.
“We can’t trust an elf,” comes from a woman.
“If she’s found out we’re all dead,” a man growls.
Rohan shakes his head. “If she were a spy, it would be pitiful.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, but he isn’t wrong.
“If you’re threatened by the elf, then we need to go back to basic training.”
The woman who shouted out looks away, embarrassed.
“The elf says she has been a slave since she was young, and the collar on her neck attests to that, including the scars beneath. She will stay until she doesn’t anymore, and we’re to keep quiet about it. Anyone who has an issue with that, step up and challenge me.”
