whatever Eldrin has planned for me will feel like torture.
“Stop calling me that,” I mutter under my breath, as I start walking back towards the equipment, although calling my painful hobble a walk is a stretch.
He snorts as he falls into step beside me, and I can feel his gaze on me. I bet he’s enjoying every minute of this. “Oh, you don’t like it? That’s a shame.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I know I was right, he’s loving this.
“Why are you being such a bastard today?” I practically growl, as I spin around and glare at him. He looks like he’s not going to give it a rest, so I throw my arm out and grab his wrist, gripping hard and yanking him to a stop with all my weight. He stumbles to a halt, looking at me in shock. Letting go of his wrist as if it’s on fire, I hurriedly step back to put some space between us and try not to look as startled as I feel.
His expression quickly changes, the shock melting away to a blank mask, but I think I see a flash of pain in his eyes. However, he turns away before I can be sure. “I’m always a bastard, get used to it,” he spits out as he skulks away.
Frowning at his back, I can’t help but feel like I’ve offended him. “Eldrin—”
“Over to the weights. Now.”
I feel like he’s giving me whiplash. One second, he shows me a moment of vulnerability, and just when I think he actually has a heart, he’ll turn back into the scowling, surly elf. It makes me want to scream. No one winds me up like he does. I’m usually pretty good at controlling my emotions, it was a necessity in my past, but something about him rips away all of my filters.
Trudging my way over to the rack of weights where Eldrin is waiting, I go through the motions of lifting the weights as he demands. I struggle with it, even after he shows me better techniques on how to lift. After watching me and criticising, he tries something different and stalks away. I stand there, panting in the shade, wondering where he disappeared to. After a couple of minutes, he comes back with several sacks of flour and begins tying a rope to the top of one of the bags. Throwing the end of the rope at me, he instructs me to pull the flour behind me. So, that’s how I find myself trudging around the running track with sacks of flour over my shoulders. It’s easier to carry them on my shoulders than drag them behind me, something I’d been used to doing as a slave. After a couple of laps, he gives me another sack, and so it continues. I’m getting hot, and the bags are heavy, but it’s all been manageable.
A whistle catches my attention, and when I look up, I see Eldrin gesturing for me to return to him. Cutting across the field, I drop the bags of flour at his feet and roll my shoulders to ease the soreness there. Breathing deeply, I put my hands on my hips as I wait for him to say whatever it was he called me over here for.
“You’re stronger than I anticipated,” he muses reluctantly. “Much stronger than a normal human.” He sounds like he’s talking to himself more than me, but that part catches my attention. Stronger than a normal human? Does that mean I have the strength of the elves? I remember when I grabbed Eldrin’s arm earlier and pulled him to a stop. I hadn’t expected him to actually stop, and his expression was just as shocked as I’d felt. I hadn’t thought about it much at the time.
Seeing my expression, he frowns, realising that he just complimented me. “You’re still weaker than most elves, and you’re too skinny, we need to work on that,” he points out, almost sounding like he’s backpedalling as he tries to make up for the fact that he was almost nice to me.
I don’t even bother to respond. I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally, and I don’t have the energy to fight with him. Slowly, I go through a series of stretches, working out my sore muscles. I know he’s watching me. He’s confused as to why I’m not snapping back at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, but I don’t even bother to look up. He makes