by Emma Hamm
“Argue away mistress of the fae. I like the sound of your voice.” He growled, showing his teeth in an exaggerated fashion that made her duck her head to hide a smile. “You get all snarly, like you’re intimidating.”
“I am intimidating.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you’re a very brave woman, courageous even, but I don’t think you’re intimidating.”
How many men had said that to her in her life? Elva was too pretty, too smart, too strong. Too much of so many things that it made people run. But it wasn’t fair to complain about something like that when she had everything and nothing at all.
Elva bit her lip and looked back at the sword in her lap, tilting it enough so he could see it. “All right then. If you’re such a scholar, what’s the right way to clean this?”
8
Donnacha pressed his hand against her door, then leaned his forehead against the worn wood. He didn’t want to go in there yet another night and force her to be in his presence.
She didn’t want him there. That was clear as day. How many times were they going to have to do this?
A year. Three hundred and sixty five times was the deal, and each one was getting harder and harder to do.
He played back their conversation about swords and was startled to realize how much he liked her. At first, he’d thought she was nothing more than a simple warrior woman who had found her way to the Isle of Skye for revenge. There were plenty of women there for the same reason, so why should she be any different?
But then she’d figured out his curse. She’d realized a loophole even he hadn’t thought to try, and she hadn’t really even done anything. The way she spoke to him…
Donnacha sighed and backed away from the door. She’d talked to him like he was a man, not a bear. Like he was someone worth taking the time and effort to understand. To learn about who he was. Why he was kind, why he cared about what she thought.
Why he cared to help her clean a sword the right way.
He didn’t have the answers to those questions. He wasn’t even supposed to be talking with one of the Tuatha de Danann. The dwarves were a solitary folk. If he wasn’t cursed, then he would have already been married to a cute little woman with a beard. They would have had children by now, a hole in the ground all for their own, and he’d likely be working in the mines during the day.
It would have been a quaint life, and it didn’t include a tall, leggy, beautiful blonde.
She still hadn’t explained who she was. Donnacha didn’t blame her for that. He’d already guessed her story was one that would anger him. She was too beautiful to be ignored in the Seelie court, which meant he likely was going to want to kill the faeries even more than he already did.
Who would hurt her, anyway? He couldn’t imagine someone wanting to harm her when the sunlight bounced off her hair like it was spun gold.
And it wasn’t all about her looks, although he was dazzled by them often. She was such a fierce woman, more so even than the dwarves. Elva knew what she wanted and took it. But there was something else hidden in her that he tried to dig out. She was a question in his mind that he wanted an answer to. A brave, strange question that boiled down to why she was so standoffish but also so kind under that rough exterior.
The curse tightened at his stomach, pulling him toward a kingdom he wanted nothing to do with. He didn’t want to end up in the troll kingdom. He didn’t want to hurt Elva any more than he already had. It was a conundrum he knew would take a few more months at best to figure out, but that didn’t make it any better.
Blowing out a breath, he pushed at the door.
She had gotten used to his visits each night. The castle had accommodated their needs, creating a small seating area in the corner made of ice. Elva had taken a few of the bed furs and created cushions for them to sit on.
As she had been for the past week, Elva was seated in one of the chairs. A small mound of snow sat between the two chairs where she’d placed an open bottle of wine.
Donnacha sank down in the ice seat beside her. “A rather cheery night for a drink.”
She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the wall where the castle had opted to create a fireplace. The carved ice mimicking wavering flames was a nice added touched, although one he found slightly ironic.
He’d brought glasses a few nights ago, which she’d immediately tossed at the wall and shattered. They didn’t need glasses because that was for civilized people, she’d claimed. Clearly neither of them was that. He had kidnapped a woman, and she had given up a life to be a warrior. Formalities were useless between the two of them.
Donnacha hadn’t thought it was smart to argue when she’d been in a mood to break things. Tonight, she was silent.
He didn’t know which was more frightening.
Reaching out, he grabbed the bottle of wine and took a sip. “Not much for talking tonight, is that it?”
“Old demons haunt me tonight.” A rush of wind echoed her words, sounding like that of a spirit moaning through the halls.
“Ah. Anything I might help with?”
“Do you know how to banish memories for good? I’d wipe them from my mind if I could.”
Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. Donnacha wasn’t one for dwelling on dark topics, but those weren’t words he wanted to hear her say again. “Banishing memories like that is a fool’s errand.”
“Is that so?” She looked over at him then, anger turning her blue eyes dark as a storm. “Do you have memories that plague you?”
He arched a brow. “What do you think?”
The knowledge of his curse dawned on her visibly. Elva shifted to stare back at the wall. “I supposed it’s similar.”
Donnacha leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, wine bottle hanging from his fingertips. “Those memories, however difficult they are to deal with, made you who you are. It’s not a weakness to still be affected by them. You should be. They clearly were difficult times for you to endure, and you shouldn’t be embarrassed by that.”
What had he become? A sweet talker so that women would tell him their inner most secrets? His brothers would have laughed at him for saying something like that.
He’d realized a long time ago that memories were the only thing keeping people intact. They had to know what happened to them, to remember every harsh detail of life, to enjoy living. And for some strange reason, he wanted this woman to understand how important it was for her to acknowledge that.
Her face remained turned away from him. A muscle on her jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth, angrily staring at the wall. “I don’t want to remember them.”
“Sometimes it helps to share the memories.”
“I don’t want to tell you either.”
“Why not?”
Elva’s shoulders curved into her body. “I don’t want to think about them at all. What makes you think I’d be interested in actually talking about it?”
He didn’t think it would be a bad idea. In fact, considering the haunted expression on her face, it seemed like she needed to talk about it more than anything else.
He wasn’t a qualified person to speak with her, certainly. She had no idea who he was. He had no idea who she was. There were a lot of factors that would make her not trust him.
Least of all that he’d forced her to come here. Elva had made it clear there was plenty she’d rather be doing than sitting in this fortress with him. She’d wanted to train, to become the most well-known warrior woman in the realm. Of course, she hadn’t told him the why behind that either.
Donnacha thought he might be able to piece that together just from the way she was sitting right now.
His eyes danced over the signs of a person close to a breakdown. The way her fingers were curled into her fists. How she crossed her arms, nearly hugging herself, but still appearing sullen. And, of course, the way she was using her hair as a shield now. She didn’t want him to look at her face, or her eyes, and he had a feeling he kn
ew why.
Sighing, Donnacha held out the wine bottle for her to take. “Take a swig and talk.”
She took the wine bottle and drank deeply. Wiping her lips, Elva shook her head and remained silent.
“You haven’t talked to anyone about it before, have you?” he asked.
“Oh, I talked.” The words were practically a snarl.
“And they didn’t believe you.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need to ask her to know why she didn’t trust anyone to speak about her experience.
She looked at him then, her eyes dark and her mouth thin where she had pressed her lips together. “How do you know that?”
“My sister,” he explained, gesturing with his hands. “We didn’t have an easy childhood. Even though we are related to royalty, dwarves are different. We were just cousins of the nobles, which meant we were like everyone else. She wandered out of the mines when she was little, was caught by a few of the Seelie Court who thought it would be interesting to see if dwarven women were really female, or if we were all just male. It didn’t end well for her, and some people didn’t want to listen.”
It took every fiber of his strength to tell the story without reacting. He wanted to curl his hands into fists and destroy the men who’d done it all over again. Hate had burned in his chest for the Seelie Court for so many years, he didn’t know how to dull the aching rage.
“What did she do?” Elva asked, her voice barely audible. “To deal with the memories?”
He shrugged. “I think she’s the strongest woman on the planet. She married, had four children, laughs and dances all the same. Like nothing happened. Sometimes I see the same shadows in her eyes when it comes back to her. When she leaves her house and when she wanders without her family beside her. But…she chose to not let it change who she was. And for the longest time, I couldn’t understand that kind of strength.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to kill them.” His hands shook. “I wanted to hunt them down and remove their heads from the bodies the moment she told me. But she was the one who said she didn’t want that. Giving them any more time in her life was a waste, she told me.”
Elva took another swig of the wine bottle. “I don’t think I agree with her.”
“Neither do I.” He held out his hand for the bottle, suddenly needing his own encouragement. “So, are you gonna talk or what?”
She gave the bottle up easily enough. He knew she was staring because he could feel the heat of her gaze, the way she was desperately trying to distract herself from anything and everything in the moment.
Finally, she blew out a breath. “I am Elva of the Seelie Court.”
He waited for her to embellish before he shook his head. “I knew that.”
“Elva,” she repeated herself slowly. “Of the Seelie Court?”
“Yeah, I got that part. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“How long have you been cursed?” Elva held up a hand. “Sorry. How long has it been since you‘ve been involved in the court system?”
This question wasn’t tied to his curse and, therefore, much easier to answer. Donnacha shrugged. “A couple years?”
“That’s it?”
“It’s felt like a long time,” he muttered. He’d been a bear for years now. That had to count for something.
“You should have heard of me. Or of what happened. You know the Seelie King has been removed from his throne, don’t you?”
“Yeah, and tossed into the human world. What of it?”
She squeezed herself tighter. “I was his wife.”
His jaw fell open in horror. “You’re who?” Oh, gods. He had the previous Seelie King’s wife in his castle? Was that what the Troll Queen had wanted this entire time? She hadn’t been kidding when she said the court system would likely kill him. They would want this woman back in their clutches as soon as possible. He was shocked they hadn’t already come searching for her.
“I’m not part of the court system anymore if that’s what you’re worried about. Give me that.” She swiped the wine and took a deep drink.
“So they aren’t going to knock on the door of the castle, demanding I give you up or I will part with my head?” he asked. The clarification felt rather important in this moment, no matter that she wasn’t worried.
He was.
Elva shook her head. “No. The current king and queen understand that I want to be left alone. I needed to find myself again.”
“After being queen.”
“I wasn’t a queen,” she corrected him, taking another swig of the bottle.
Enough of that. He didn’t want her getting drunk and then forgetting she told him all this. Donnacha reached out for the bottle. “Pampered then? No wonder you’re comfortable here.”
“Oh, I’ve gotten enough of that in my life, thank you very much. I’ll break the bottle over your head if you keep up with the sarcasm.”
Donnacha wrangled the wine bottle from her hands. The woman would not drink away her issues on his watch, no matter how much she wanted to. He put it on the other side of him, far away from her hands, and then turned back to her. “So he was the one that…?”
“Not like you’re thinking,” she muttered. She tilted her body away from him, back to staring at the carved ice flames. “Look, when it all started, I was very much in love with him. Fionn was a good man. Charming, entertaining, he promised me a life that I had wanted since I was a child. It seemed like the best choice at the time.”
“You loved him or you wanted what he could give you?”
She shrugged. “A little of both? He was the first man I was ever interested in. First love, I guess. He wanted the best for me, no matter if I wanted it or not. And that was when the problems started. I realized I didn’t want all the pretty things, but he thought I had to have them. He wanted to put me on a pedestal and tell me what I wanted.”
That explained why she was so independent. For a woman who had been essentially a queen, Elva was still very much a gritty warrior. He didn’t know many women who could switch positions like that. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the arm of his chair, staring at her profile. “All right. So he wanted what was best for you. What’s wrong with that?”
“He didn’t listen to what I wanted. He told me what I should want because that’s what everyone else wanted. Fionn was all smoke and mirrors when it boiled down to it. He didn’t know who he was, what he wanted out of life, anything other than the throne. Even that he’d only taken because his twin had it first.”
Donnacha had known men like that before. He wasn’t particularly fond of them, but they seemed to do well in life. Their wives were always happy, but Elva wasn’t the kind of woman to settle for mere happiness when bliss was just out of her reach.. “And?”
“And eventually I realized the man I was sleeping with had turned into someone else,” she replied. She turned toward him, looking him dead in the eyes with a cold gaze. “I didn’t tell him. Any of it. I didn’t tell him that I’d fallen out of love or I didn’t want him to touch me anymore. I endured. That’s what women are supposed to do, aren’t they? I endured for years.”
“Until you couldn’t take it anymore.”
She shook her head, nothing but dull cold reflecting her eyes. “No. Someone else came into the castle. They took Fionn’s place, destroyed his reign, and then gave me the option to either leave with my husband or stay.”
“Ah,” Donnacha replied. “And you chose to stay.”
“I did.”
“Hardest decision of your life?”
“No,” she replied, and a shadow darkened her eyes. “The hardest decision was to not tell him that I wasn’t going with him. I stood there and watched as he was banished. I knew he was still in love with me. He’d wrapped his world around me, and I wasn’t going to leave with him. I carry that guilt with me every day. I told him nothing. I didn’t tell him that every moment he touched me, every night we lay together, I felt as though he were
ripping something out of me.
“I can’t tell other women who have experienced this. He didn’t force me to do anything. He didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. And yet…it feels like he was doing something wrong.”
Gods, what did he say to that? This woman was already so torn up about this and, honestly, there was nothing for him to say.
He was a man, just like the person who had hurt her. She clearly didn’t want to trust him, and she shouldn’t, not that easily. Instead, he blew out a breath and stared at the flames with her.
How did he make up for the actions of another person? He didn’t. That was the long and short of it. Donnacha couldn’t track down the Seelie King and force the man to apologize. He couldn’t take away the memories because he stood by the words he’d said. They had made her into the woman she was right now.
She wasn’t weak, although she likely didn’t want to hear him say that. She wasn’t some creature that no one could love because she’d made a few mistakes. He knew that for certain because he was exactly the same.
But she wasn’t ready to hear any of that. She was still holding herself like she was going to fly apart if she didn’t clutch her ribs.
Maybe she would. And it would be a good thing if she finally let go of all that guilt and let it pour out of her as tears.
Only when she was ready, though. He wasn’t going to push her.
A telltale clanking echoed from the hall. Donnacha stood without looking at her, strode to the door, and opened it wide.
The red-headed faerie in his hall froze. The clurichaun clutched six bottles of wine in his small arms. His green eyes widened and his ruddy cheeks proved he’d already been drinking the day away.
“Donnacha,” the clurichaun said.
“Give me three.”
“Master, I don’t think—”
“Three,” he snarled.
The faerie handed them over awkwardly and then took off running down the hall. How he’d managed to sneak into this castle without the Troll Queen tossing him on his arse, Donnacha would likely never know. It didn’t matter, though. The man had served his purpose.