by Emma Hamm
“Again?” The troll didn’t look at her, though.
“I know you told her that I was going to see the dwarf. She saw me, and that’s why your mother had any idea I was here. I want a few moments alone with the dwarf, whether he’s awake or not. With the assurance that no one will disturb us.”
The troll princess chewed on her lip. “There will be guards.”
“No guards.”
“I’m not capable of magic. Mother has requested the dwarf be watched at all times with guards. He’s crafty.”
“So am I. I give you my solemn vow. If you take the guards away, I will not break him out of that prison. We wouldn’t get far anyway. Move the guards to the front of the dungeon for all I care, but I will have some time alone with him.”
Elva watched the troll princess think. Did the creature realize all her thoughts played across her face? She could see the inner battle as she thought about how she’d do it and the rage her mother would have if she ever found out.
Just when she thought the troll princess had settled on a decision she wouldn’t like, Elva leaned forward to reach for the blade. “If you can’t do it, I’ll take the sword back.”
The troll princess flinched away from her, taking the sword with her. “No, I want the legendary blade.”
“Then you have to do what I’ve asked.”
“Fine.”
Elva arched a delicate brow. “Then it’s a deal?”
The troll princess hesitated only for a moment before she nodded. “It’s a deal. Come back tomorrow night, late in the evening when the sun has set. The dungeon will be unlocked and the guards distracted. You should be able to slip in easily enough. They won’t notice you. You’re too little.”
Little? That was something Elva had never been called before. But she nodded and pulled the hood of her cloak low over her face. “You have yourself a deal, Troll Princess.”
“I better not get in trouble for this.”
-----
Under the cover of night, Elva made her way into the dungeon. The guards were gone as the troll princess had said, but she wasn’t confident there wouldn’t be trolls lurking in the shadows ready to grab her. The trolls had proven themselves to be far more dangerous than she’d ever given them credit for.
She’d wrapped her feet in fabric from her gown to muffle her footsteps. The dress she’d worn to the ball was soft and thin, perfect to quiet the sound, although she was sad to rip it. Apparently, she was more like her mother. That woman hadn’t ever wanted to destroy beautiful things either.
Carefully, Elva slid along the wall. She kept her gaze on the moving shadows and held her breath in case it was too loud.
No one moved toward her. No one launched themselves out of the darkness to grab her and drag her to another cell. Which meant the troll princess had somehow kept her word. Strange.
Elva remembered which cell was his. It wasn’t easy to forget, although there were plenty of interesting things happening in the other cells.
One of the captured trolls groaned as she passed by. The male, or at least she thought it was a male, had stuck himself to the wall in hopes he might live a little longer. She wanted to tell him not to be afraid of the dying light in his soul. There was more for him in the afterlife than staying here, lingering in the darkness of the cells and the damp wet air.
They wouldn’t listen to her anyway. The trolls didn’t believe in the Seelie Court’s myths of what death was like. They, like the Unseelie Court, didn’t believe faeries had souls.
Maybe they were right, but she didn’t want to find out until the last second of her life when everything faded from view.
She touched her fingers to the cold bars of the cell where Donnacha laid on his cot. Had she really put him to sleep again? That would put a wrench in her plans. She’d wanted to speak with him, to figure out what they were going to do.
Pulling the bars open, she moved into the cell with a whisper of shifting fabric.
“Donnacha?” she asked. “Are you awake?”
His fingers twitched.
Elva moved closer to him, pulling off her cloak and laying it over his body that was somehow dirty already. “I’m sorry, dwarf. I know this isn’t the easiest thing you’ve ever suffered through. But I do think we’ll be able to figure out a plan.”
His eyes opened, although it was a struggle. He looked at her with panic and desperation.
She wouldn’t have that.
Elva touched her fingers to his cheek and smiled as brightly as she could muster. “I’ll tell you everything. And by the time I’m done, the poison will have worn off. Don’t worry, Donnacha, everything is going to be all right.”
She told him everything she’d done with the troll princess, starting from the beginning. If anyone would know what to do, it was Donnacha. He let his eyes drift shut as she spoke, but she knew he was listening.
Halfway through the tale, he slowly shifted his hand across the cot and then covered hers with the warmth of his. How did he manage to always make her stomach clench? Just from a small movement, and it wasn’t like he’d done much.
Elva stumbled over her words. He couldn’t know that meant so much to her, could he? Did he know his support was the only thing keeping her from flying apart into a thousand pieces?
She’d guessed the poison’s longevity correctly. By the time she told him about the sword, Donnacha moved to sit up on the cot. He shook his hands to get the feeling back in them.
“A sword?” he said with a grin. “Was that really the best idea?”
“It didn’t seem like it at the time. But your cousin gave me this pack and, thus far, it’s created items she can’t say no to.”
“It wasn’t really the sword of Nuada, was it?”
She gave him an unimpressed look. “Do you think I’d give something of that power to a troll?”
“I’m just curious because Angus did have that particular item in his possession for a very long time. He’s kept it secret, and I highly doubt he’d use it for you, but the man has surprised me before.”
Yet again, Elva felt herself tongue-tied. Spluttering, she managed, “Your cousin had the sword of Nuada? The sword everyone in both courts has been searching for? For centuries?”
“Well, Angus isn’t centuries old, so it wasn’t always in his possession. I think his father was the one who originally found it, but don’t tell the dwarf king I was the one who told you that. He thinks it’s a good story to tell pretty women.” He stared at her with sudden heat. “He didn’t try to woo you, did he?”
Elva had to cover her mouth so she didn’t bark out laughter. “What?”
“You’re his type. You can tell me if he tried something. I’ll just break his arm for it when I see him next.”
“He didn’t try anything,” she said with a muffled giggle. “What is it with you dwarves? Are all of you interested in Seelie faeries?”
Donnacha reached out and caught a golden curl between his fingers. He rubbed the silken lock while giving her a stare that made her fists clench. “No, we’re not all that interested in Seelie faeries. I think it’s just you, Elva.”
They weren’t pretty words, not really, but somehow they meant all the more. “I was once known as the most beautiful woman in the Seelie court.”
“No,” he shook his head, dropping the curl to cup his hand around the back of her neck. “It isn’t that. It’s your confidence, your strength, your ability to continue on in the face of even a troll kingdom. I didn’t think it was possible anyone like you existed, and yet, here you are.”
His breath fanned across her face. “Here I am, dwarf. Now, what are you going to do with me?”
He shuddered. “So much that I cannot do in a dungeon.”
“I’ve never minded a little dirt.”
“Well, I do.” Instead of kissing her as she desperately wanted him to, Donnacha leaned up and pressed a kiss to her brow. “You deserve at least something comfortable for our first time.”
“First ti
me?” She couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose on her arms just from his touch. The idea of sleeping with him, making love or whatever romantic thing people called it these days, wasn’t…awful.
When had that happened? The idea of someone touching her had made her shudder in fear, but now the idea of actually allowing him access to her body didn’t make her ill.
She’d tried once with another person. She’d thought that if she pushed herself and just did it, then she’d get over the fear. Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened. The moment the man touched her breast, she’d vomited all over him.
With Donnacha, however, the idea of it wasn’t so bad. She didn’t think he would rush her or focus on himself so much that he lost sight of her fear. She thought, maybe, he’d listen to her.
Donnacha’s lips shifted into a sad smile, and he pulled back. “I don’t think you’re ready yet, anyway.”
“I think I might be.”
“Might be isn’t going to cut it for me, darling. I want you to know down to your bones that you want me. And that’s okay if you’re not ready yet. I will wait for you until I know for certain you aren’t pushing yourself to do something that will only make things worse. You mean a lot to me, Elva. I can’t even explain why or how much, but I don’t want to ruin things just because I desperately want to touch you.”
She sighed in happiness. This man wasn’t trying to make her forget the things that had happened. Instead, he wanted to dull the blade of the memories until they didn’t slice at her soul anymore.
Elva leaned forward and pressed her cheek against his. “What are we going to do?”
“The princess didn’t tell you the wedding is tomorrow, did she?”
Elva shook her head.
“Then here’s the plan. You gave her a legendary sword, or at least one she believes to be legendary. I’m going to tell her that the Seelie Court only allows a man to marry the strongest fighter in the room. She has to battle you for me.”
That wouldn’t be so hard. She could fight a troll. “All right.”
“That easy? You want to fight a troll for me?”
She pulled back so he could see the fierce expression on her face. “If you want to me to fight an entire kingdom of trolls to get you out of here, I would do it. I’m not afraid, Donnacha. Let her fight me and see what it is really like to battle with a warrior.”
He gave her an equally feral grin. “So be it. Let the battle begin.”
20
Elva held the cloak against her face and hoped none of the trolls surrounding her would recognize the hunchbacked figure as the faerie princess who had made such waves at the ball. The crowd was enough to hide her, and many were wearing cloaks to stop the rain from pouring down onto them. She’d stood in line with the others for hours, waiting to get into the castle.
The wedding was today. Finally, after all this time, she was going to get him out of this place or die trying. Considering the size of the trolls around her, Elva feared that she was chasing death. But it was worth it. If she succeeded.
The crowd moved forward the last step and into the castle she went. Elva weaved through the waiting figures. She was much smaller than the other trolls. Perhaps they thought she was a child because most of them moved aside for her the moment she slipped by.
Or perhaps none of them wanted to stand in the front where the wedding had begun.
The troll princess stood next to Donnacha on a dais in a garish white dress that flounced around her. It floated around her waist, held up by obvious threads connected to her head where her meager hair had been wrapped in a small bun.
The Troll Queen stood in front of them, holding up a rather worn and dusty book that might have once been used for a wedding. Elva recognized the golden letters on the front. Faerie language, and ones only the Tuatha de Danann could read. Which clearly meant whatever the queen was saying were not actual wedding vows that would bind a faerie to another.
Donnacha was wearing the same suit he’d worn at the ball. They must not have had anything else to give him.
His eyes darted through the room every now and then. She watched them shift until he finally caught sight of her. The tension in his shoulders eased a little, then he nodded at her.
Clearing his throat, Donnacha interrupted the proceedings. “There is one last thing, your majesties.”
The Troll Queen stopped mid-sentence and narrowed her eyes on him. “We don’t have time for that, I’m afraid.”
“We must. There’s a tradition amongst the dwarves that the bride must fight for her husband.”
“Fight?” The troll princess placed a hand on her hip and shook the bun on top of her head. “I’m not fighting anyone for you. I already won you, fair and square.”
“It’s not fighting for me, your majesty. It’s merely tradition. Of course, the more powerful an opponent you fight, the more renowned you are throughout the dwarven kingdom.”
The Troll Queen threw her head back and laughed. “You haven’t given up yet? Do you really think I’m going to let my daughter fight someone of your choosing? Absolutely not. Let’s get on with this. We’ve already catered to your desires far more than we should have.”
Donnacha shrugged. “Fine. We can be married in the eyes of the Seelie Court, but the dwarves will never consider us married. They will come for me.”
Again, the Troll Queen looked unimpressed. “Let them come. I’ve never been afraid of a dwarf.”
“You should be,” Donnacha said, his shoulders squaring as he drew himself up to his peak height. “They will come for me. They will fight, and your kingdom will never have peace unless you do this.”
“I don’t care. Trolls enjoy fighting, or have you forgotten that?”
“The dwarves do as well. And we have forges that can make blades unheard of before, blades that could cleave the head off any troll.”
The Troll Queen chuckled. “You aren’t scaring me, Donnacha. I’m not interested in your little games. We’ll proceed.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t care if you’re married to my daughter or not. If you refuse to proceed with this, that’s fine. You’re still her gift, and she can still do with you as she pleases.”
For a moment, Elva thought they’d lost all control over the situation. If the Troll Queen didn’t fall for this, then everything had been for nothing. He was going to have to stay here because, realistically, she couldn’t fight all the trolls in this room.
They had failed.
But then, the troll princess stepped closer to her mother and interrupted their argument. “Mother, I don’t mind fighting someone.”
“You have never been trained how to fight. Step down, child.”
“No. Mother, I want to do this. I want to prove to him and his people that I am a worthy woman for this marriage.”
“What?” The Troll Queen tilted her head to the side and eyed her only child up and down. “What are you saying?”
The creature next to her gasped in shock. Elva lifted a hand and pressed it to her mouth to mimic the surprise of the crowd. Were they really so interested in this? The trolls liked to fight. The queen had said that herself. Why would they care if the princess was the same as the rest of them?
Why wouldn’t they have taught her how to fight?
“I’m not a child anymore, Mother,” the troll princess claimed. She gestured for her maid servant, who brought over a wrapped blade.
Elva was certain it was the one she’d given her. The one that would give her so much false hope, have her jump into battle without realizing she was going to lose.
The troll princess unwrapped the sword and turned toward the crowd with it lifted above her head. All around her, trolls erupted into cries of shock and pleasure. The sword of Nuada was finally theirs. The sword that could bring down an army without ever having to fight.
The Troll Queen stepped forward, her brows furrowed and her hands reaching for the sword. “Where did you get that, my daughter?”
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��It doesn’t matter! Don’t you see? I don’t mind fighting anyone who wants to challenge me for his hand. It will hardly be a fight.”
This was her moment. All she had to do was make a grand entrance, and then everything would go back to plan. Elva hesitated a brief moment, letting the Troll Queen think.
The royal woman wasn’t a fool. She knew someone had given her daughter that blade, and she likely didn’t think it was for a good reason. The troll queen was a thinker where the rest of her people were creatures of action.
But Elva couldn’t give her any more time to think.
“I’ll fight you!” she called out, stepping from the crowd and letting her cloak drop to the floor. “Gladly.”
She’d worn her own clothing this time. Leather pants, a leather chest plate that would protect her from human warriors, although not likely from a troll. She’d braided her hair back from her face to make sure it didn’t get into her eyes. The sword at her side tapped her thigh as she walked, a reminder that Scáthach was still with her even now.
The troll princess’s eyes found her. The grin that spread across her face was one of someone who was far too confident. “I’ve been waiting to fight you since the first moment you walked into this kingdom.”
Elva strode forward. If she wanted a fight, then she would get one that would rock her world. The princess wasn’t giving her enough credit. But then again, the princess had never tried to find out who she was.
The queen, however, knew exactly who Elva was. She stepped in front of her daughter and shook her head. “Was this your plan all along then, faerie?”
“What plan?” Elva pretended not to know what the troll asked.
“To fight my daughter? To destroy the bloodline of the trolls and insert yourself here in our kingdom?”
Elva smiled. “I don’t want your kingdom. If I left the Seelie King, if I chose not to be his queen, then what makes you think I’d want this pathetic excuse for a kingdom?”
“How dare you?” The Troll Queen stepped forward menacingly. “You’ve outstayed your welcome, Seelie. I’ll remove you myself.”