by Emma Hamm
But he was getting distracted. She was here, and that was going to cause problems for him.
The Troll Queen had thought she would be a diversion, clearly. While Donnacha hadn’t been thinking straight in the moments, or days, after she’d told him how to break the curse, he was now. The only reason she’d brought a woman to the castle was because she thought it would push him toward her troll daughter.
He couldn’t figure out why she thought that. Bring a pretty little faerie woman into the castle? That was highly unlikely to make him think the troll daughter was a better option.
Of course, the dwarves and Tuatha de Danann weren’t exactly friends. Although his cousin, Angus, had entertained a few of the tall, lithe creatures before, Donnacha was more in line with the rest of his family. Some of their faerie kin were good folk. Others, the Tuatha de Danann included, were not.
Having her here would be an unnecessary nuisance, but one he could avoid. He’d placed her in the fairest room. They wouldn’t see each other often enough for either to form opinions. All he had to do was last for a year without her seeing his human face. That was a rather easy thing to do considering he was living as a bear. Nor did he have any portraits of himself here.
So, unless the Troll Queen had planned some nefarious deeds, he should be fine. One year wasn’t that long to stay out of trouble.
Almost on cue, he heard the whispering voice of the Troll Queen. “Donnacha,” she called out, her voice slithering through the halls. “Come to me.”
He didn’t want to. He should have known she would have something up her sleeve. Staying put would have been the smarter option. He could fight against the pull of the curse, and maybe she would give up.
His feet moved of their own accord. Donnacha padded toward the room with the mirror and slipped through the double doors.
She was already waiting for him. Her slate gray skin blended into the misty background of her home. Dark stone, dark shadows. There was nothing in the troll kingdom other than bleak, grim frost.
The Troll Queen stared at him, her face twisted with anger. “So, she made it to the castle.”
“She did.” He tried so hard not to gloat, but the faerie woman had done what no one else had ever managed to do. She’d beaten the Troll Queen at her own game.
“Well, that’s a shame for her.”
Donnacha locked his muscles tight, refusing to move when he realized the Troll Queen had, yet again, proven herself to be far more intelligent than he thought.
The creature in front of him laughed. “Did you really think that was the end of this, Donnacha? I plan to torture you until you agree to marry my daughter. You knew that the moment you chose to be cursed instead.”
“She has nothing to do with this.” Would the Troll Queen punish this woman as well? He couldn’t have that hanging over his head. She was an innocent.
“She has a huge part in this. Because she’s pretty, isn’t she?”
Was this some kind of retribution for having a daughter who was ugly? Donnacha shook his large head. “You know my refusal to marry your daughter had little to do with her looks.”
“It has everything to do with her looks,” the Troll Queen hissed. “And now, I’m going to torment you.”
He had no idea what she could possibly plan that would torment him further. Donnacha was already a bear. Already stolen away from his family. This knowledge made him more daring than he might have been otherwise. He tilted his head back and laughed. “Do your worst, Troll Queen. I will never give in to you.”
She watched him laugh with a cold expression. “Donnacha, I know you better than you know yourself. You don’t want to hurt anyone. You’ve never wanted to be the one who caused another person pain.”
“The woman is off limits. You cannot hurt her.”
“I don’t intend to.” She pressed a hand against her chest and smiled a feral smile. “You’re going to.”
His blood ran cold. “You can’t force me to harm someone. That is also against the deal. You have no control over my decisions.”
“I do a bit. But don’t worry your furry little head. I’m not going to make you eat her, if that’s what you think.” She leaned closer to the glass and drew a long nail down the surface. The screeching sound was almost as terrible as her voice. “I’m changing the curse. Adding another layer to it, just a bit.”
“What more could you do?”
“Every night, Donnacha of the dwarven clans, you will change back from a bear into a man.”
He waited for her to clarify, only to realize that was her addition. That was it. He could finally be a man again? After all this time?
As he opened his mouth to speak, she lifted a hand. “Not so fast, dwarf. If this woman sees your human face, then you will have to marry my daughter.”
Well, that would certainly make things more difficult. But it was nothing he couldn’t overcome. He’d simply stay away from her at night. He’d lock her in the room to be certain she wouldn’t wander and see him by accident.
It was a difficult way to live for a year, but it wouldn’t be the hardest year he’d survived. Donnacha nodded firmly. “So be it.”
The Troll Queen’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “Oh, and one last thing. You have to stay in the same room with her while you’re a human. Sleep by her side, in the same bed, for the rest of the time she’s here.”
“What?” he blurted. “Why would you insist on that? She doesn’t know who I am!”
“No, she doesn’t. Which means she’ll be all the more likely to try and find out who you are. Remember, all she has to do is see your face. The moonlight. A flicker of a candle. There’s so many ways she can see who you really are, Donnacha.”
His mind whirled, trying to find the loopholes, and each one the Troll Queen struck down.
“You can’t cover your face intentionally. No masks, no hoods. Just you, as you are. No, you cannot sleep at the foot of her bed or blindfold her either. You can’t tell her anything at all other than you must stay with her, in her room, in her bed, at her side.” The Troll Queen clapped gleefully. “Now that will be real entertainment. I’ll have you in my castle anytime now. What color would you like the bouquets to be?”
“You have not bested me yet.”
“Oh, but I will.”
A shock struck him in the base of the neck. At first, he thought it was nothing more than a knot in his fur. They were sometimes pesky enough to cause actual pain. But then the electricity traveled down his neck and through his spine. He had a moment to grumble out a barely there, “What,” before it burst into excruciating pain. The air in his lungs stuck in his throat, the sounds he wanted to scream already silencing themselves before he gave them life. His body crumpled to the ground. Paws curling in toward his chest, he shivered in pain. His jaw gaped open as he tried to curse her, to tell her she would never win as long as he was alive.
The Troll Queen smiled down at him through the protection of her mirror. “I forgot to tell you that it will be the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your short life.”
The mirror went dark as he was swallowed whole by his own body. Bones cracked, crunching inward over and over again as they realigned themselves to a much smaller form. Hair retracted, slithering back inside his body like there were snakes writhing under his skin. But worst of all were the talons that tore through his skin over and over again, trying to get rid of the muscles and fat that had built up in his bear body over the years. He leaked refuse and innards, coughing it up through his mouth.
Finally, it was over. He laid in a shivering mess on the floor. He drew his knees into his chest and tried to catch his breath. Donnacha couldn’t even enjoy being himself again for the pain shook that through his body.
Every inch of his body was sensitive. If someone touched him, he might fly apart as his nerve endings screamed in agony.
The ice dug into his back. He was cold. So very very cold.
“Get up,” he muttered. “Or it’ll only get worse.”
He knew the Troll Queen’s game. She wanted to see him writhing on the ground in front of her. She wanted to know he was angry, that he hated being alive. That was the point to all of this.
And he refused to give her that satisfaction.
Donnacha rolled onto his side, then pushed himself to his feet. He held out a hand in front of him, staring at the half moons of his nails and the dark hair lightly dusting the backs of his fingers. He was a man again. Really a man.
He ran a hand down his chest, marveling at the way his ribs moved under his hand. His chest hair wasn’t so thick that arrows couldn’t penetrate it.
Could it be? Donnacha reached a shaking hand toward his face and touched the carefully groomed, close-cropped beard. So the Troll Queen hadn’t taken the only thing that was the pride and joy of the dwarves after all.
He desperately wanted to look at himself, to see the body that had been taken from him. But he couldn’t stand to be in the same mirror’s reflection where she had stood.
Dropping his hand, he forced himself to leave the mirror room and return to his own quarters. There was clothing there for him, the ones he’d kept just in case because he refused to give up hope that someday he’d be himself again. Curses were created to be broken, and he was going to break this one with the help of that faerie woman he’d placed in that room alone.
He dragged a sleep shirt over his head and then quickly tied on breeches. He wouldn’t have normally slept in them but…well. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would hesitate to geld a man slipping into bed with her.
The curse tightened around his neck, urging him to hurry or else. The pull at his belly was directing him toward the Troll Kingdom. If he didn’t rush to that faerie woman’s room, he’d find himself running through the halls of the Troll Queen’s palace, hoping he could get away from that monstrous daughter of hers.
He stuffed the loose ends of his shirt into the pants and then ran down the halls. Slipping and sliding, he slammed into a few walls before he finally resorted to skidding down them. He remembered how slippery the ice was without claws.
No claws were on his feet to help him move, he realized with complete and utter joy. The bare feet of a man could easily grow cold touching the smooth floors. It didn’t matter at all. He welcomed the pain because it meant he really was in this form. He really was a man, after all this time.
Donnacha paused in front of the door to the faerie woman’s room, wondering how he was going to do this. He couldn’t share this joy with her. She didn’t know he was the bear. She couldn’t know he was the bear or she would pressure him to tell her what was going on.
She was already too curious about these circumstances, although he attributed that to Scáthach. The wily woman would be the kind to plant someone in his house just to make sure he wasn’t dangerous. And he wasn’t.
He was just a dwarf. Just a dwarf who could finally be the person he had been all those years ago. Even if it was only in the darkness where she couldn’t see his face.
Donnacha waited until the sun set completely and a cloud passed over the moonlight. Then he pressed a hand against the outside wall of her room. The castle would help him. Of everyone involved in the curse, it liked him the most.
He envisioned the walls becoming something more than just ice. He imagined them fracturing, breaking like glass tossed onto the floor. A labyrinth of fissures that would break the light between them, bouncing within it but never passing through.
The ice that had created her room thickened. The crackling sound of magic echoed through the hall and, soon, the ice couldn’t be seen through at all. Even light was caught on the fractures within the walls.
Blowing out a breath, he looked around him. “Thank you.”
A cold wind blew through the hall, gently touched his back, and then continued on. He didn’t know what spirit or creature haunted this castle, but he knew it liked him. That was enough.
Donnacha opened the door and stepped into the darkness of her room.
It was so quiet inside the walls, he thought she wasn’t there. Not even the sound of a person breathing could give him a way to pinpoint where she was. Of course, he was used to having the hearing of a bear.
Then, he heard the sound of a body shifting against fabric and felt every muscle in his body tighten. Gods, how long had it been since he enjoyed the company of a woman as a man? As nothing more than someone who wanted to give pleasure and receive it in return?
“Who goes there?” Her voice floated through the darkness.
“No one,” he replied, stepping closer in the dim light.
“The master of this castle said no one else lived within these walls.” Again, she shifted. Sitting up on the side of the bed perhaps? “I apologize if these are your quarters.”
“They aren’t.” He stepped forward, his eyes adjusting to the darkness until he could see the shape of her moving. “Please, stay.”
He could see the silhouette of her arm braced against the side of the bed. The muscular length of it was so graceful. A long curtain of hair fell in front, or perhaps behind, slowly shifting forward like the dress of a dancer as she moved.
Fortunately, she couldn’t see in the dark like he could. Dwarves were born in dim light, they lived in the mines and, thus, their eyes saw more than the average person. Where she likely only saw darkness, he saw details as if a full moon shown upon them.
“I’m afraid that isn’t a sufficient answer for me,” she snarled.
The ringing of metal against metal was his only warning to flinch backward as she drew her sword. As it was, the point still rested against the base of his throat. Cold, it sank beneath his skin just enough for a bead of blood to well up and drip down the blade.
Her hand tightened on the leather grip. “Start talking.”
“I’m not here to hurt you, merely to lay with you.”
She choked out a laugh. “I can assure you that’s not going to happen.”
“Not like that!” Donnacha tried to stop his thoughts from running away from him. Laying with her would be…an experience he wasn’t likely to forget ever. Shaking his head, he stepped back from the sword she kept raised in the air. “Look, I can’t explain. It’s part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
“You staying here with the bear. I can’t leave this room, and neither can you. I’m not asking for anything other than for you to share the bed with me. We can put up a blockade of pillows if that helps you to trust me—”
“Trust you?” she interrupted, her words sharp. “What reason do I have to trust you at all? You, who has appeared out of the shadows in my room, sneaking through the ice walls like a wraith here to kill me.”
“I’m not here to hurt you.” He raised his hands even though she couldn’t see them.
“They all say that,” she muttered, but lowered the sword.
“Who?”
“Men,” she spat at him. “They say they don’t want to hurt you, but then they do it anyway. It’s not your fault that your sex only knows how to leave marks that bruise.”
His heart caught in his throat. This woman had been hurt. He didn’t know how or why, but he intended to find out someday. “Those are not men,” he replied.
“Then, please, enlighten me to what they are. Explain it to me, so that I might understand what truly happened to my body.”
“You misunderstand me.” Donnacha shook his head. “If a person says they won’t hurt you and then do, it makes them a monster, a beast in the night to be hunted with sword or bow. I hope you cut off the hands of anyone who touched you without permission. And if they still walk with such hands, then I ask you tell me where to find them, so I might gift them to you on a golden platter. But those are not men. Those are not people, only animals who deserve no better treatment.”
She remained silent for a moment, her breathing ragged but her silhouette still as stone. Finally, she made a soft sound of disbelief. “Pretty words, stranger. Tis a shame they aren’t anyt
hing more than poetry.”
He watched her sheath the sword and settle back into the furs. Did that mean he was allowed to join her? He didn’t want to end his life by enjoying only a few moments as a dwarf before a wounded woman put a blade through him.
But he also didn’t want to push her too far. She deserved more than some strange man appearing in her room and forcing her to…what? To tolerate his company?
The Troll Queen was truly more vicious than he thought. She must have known this woman was a wounded soul. And what person would put another through something like this? To force this woman to endure his presence when she was clearly afraid, trying to protect herself. This was worse than he ever imagined the Troll Queen could do.
He sat at the foot of the bed, tilting his head to the side and watching her over his shoulder. “I wish I could leave you. It’s not by choice that I am here, and I would have you know that if I did have a choice, I would bid you good night.”
“I understand not having a choice, stranger. If you touch me, know that I will remove that hand.”
“Understood.” He smiled. She’d taken his advice to heart then. Good, it was the dwarven way to show man or woman what happened when they touched things that weren’t theirs.
Silence fell in the room. It wouldn’t be so bad to spend a night like this, he decided. The air was cold and his feet were already going numb, but he was still a dwarf. How could he sleep at a time like this? When he finally was himself again?
Donnacha flexed his toes and grinned. They moved like normal feet! Not pads or paws, but feet with toes and tiny toenails that he’d have to look at with light tomorrow night before he had to come back here. His arms and shoulders felt frosted to the touch, and a shiver shook through him.
A shiver.
When was the last time he’d even felt the cold? He couldn’t remember. Only that he’d always felt so much more capable of handling it than now.
Furs fell over his shoulders and arms, two or three of them. He couldn’t untangle the heavy masses to guess how many she’d chucked at his head.