by Chloe Jacobs
Another soul-skinning roar threatened to rupture her eardrums. She was sure it was coming from somewhere behind them, but there was also something else ahead. She was sure of it.
“Everyone get back from the edge!” she yelled, rushing forward with her sword ready, swinging her other arm to urge them behind her.
Dryden and Siona took up position on either side of her like faerie-shaped bookends, just as a huge hand smashed into the earth at the edge of the cliff, causing everyone to jump. It tore through the layers of snow and ice and imprinted into the frozen ground beneath, sending rock and pebbles cascading in all directions like ants scurrying to get out of the shadow of a boot.
Greta’s heart thumped as the massive hand flexed and curled for purchase before it pulled the rest of the monstrous figure up and out of the chasm. With a crash that must have rocked the whole world, it landed on two blackened, bare feet that would have crushed her flat, broken every bone, splatted her head like a melon.
He had to be at least twelve feet tall—and that was not an exaggeration for the tavern tales.
She’d expected the troll to be big, but this guy was twice as tall as Isaac, with dark—almost black—leathery skin. Her gaze kept traveling up and up, past calves and thighs the size of tree trunks. His paunchy belly jiggled when he breathed and hung down over the waist of a pair of filthy half-length trousers cut just below the knee—the same amount of canvas could have made pants for an entire goblin family. The fabric was encrusted in several places with who knew what…probably the remains of all the unwary travelers he’d killed and eaten.
She shuddered. When her gaze got to his chest—as wide as four of her—she knew they were toast. His arms could clothesline all of them off the edge of the cliff like sweeping the contents off a table.
By the time she reached his face, she had to crane her neck and squint to meet his red-rimmed eyes.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. If this was the bjer—which it had to be—then what else was on its way?
She heard a low growl behind them. With her sword up—as useless as that might be—she half twisted to get a look.
From the dark mouth of the falling-down tepee structure emerged a canine-like creature the size of a Mylean carriage horse. It looked just as mean, too. Its snout scrunched up in a long, rumbling snarl that showed off yellowed, sharp teeth, and it padded forward with slow, stalking movements.
“What is it?” Wyatt asked, a slight tremor running through his whispered voice.
“It’s a rizos,” Siona replied, obviously assuming he meant the canine creature, although given the way he was looking back and forth between the dog and the bjer, he might have been talking about either one.
“Who goes?” The bjer’s voice boomed over the tops of their heads like thunder. His breath might actually blow Greta right off her feet if he bent down to her level. The bjer’s words echoed out beyond the cliff.
Byron stepped forward, shoulders pushed back. “I am Prince Byron, heir to the Glass Kingdom in the Northern Provinces,” he called in a loud voice. She was impressed by the authority and power in his voice, like it came naturally. She could never have pulled off that kind of confidence, no matter how much practice she got.
“Kings or criminals, it makes no matter to me. None shall trespass across the territory I have claimed.” The bjer’s lip curled much like its pet’s, which was still growling at their backs.
“You have no proper claim on this land,” Byron started, but at the deep flush of rage filling the bjer’s cheeks, he smartly changed tactics. He stretched out his arm to stay the creature. “But my entourage has no intention of contesting your rights. We only wish to—”
“You seek to cross.” From the look on his face and the way he licked his lips, this was the part where the bjer killed everyone and stripped their bones like he was gorging on BBQ chicken.
The dog beast lunged forward, snapping its jaws and barking madly. Obviously, it was also familiar with what came next and looked forward to getting thrown a few juicy scraps.
Dryden beat off the rizos with a slash across the snout. It let out a yowl, but that quickly turned into a growl as it ducked its head and crouched down on its haunches.
Greta could sense everyone starting to freak out. As strong and fierce as Siona was, as smart and capable as Wyatt was…and as wildly unpredictable as the rest of the faerie group was, they couldn’t take on this troll and its scary pet. She looked at those crazy massive fists. They would crush her without even trying.
You have the power to save everyone. Her whole body hummed.
She gritted her teeth against the urge to use magick. Don’t do it. There had to be another way.
She raised her arm to catch the troll’s attention. “Would you accept payment?” she called. “What would it cost for you to allow us to cross?”
He looked down his massive nose. She motioned toward Leila and Byron with a wave worthy of any salesman. “These people are faerie royalty. Anything you want, they can get it for you. You just have to name your price and allow us to pass safely.”
Beside her, Wyatt stiffened. Yes, it was a risk, but they had to try something, right? If the bjer asked for the moons, well…one of them would just have to figure out how to deliver.
He perched those huge hands on his hips and straightened to laugh, belly jiggling in front of her face. As a group, they took an instinctive step backward, but the beast behind them started growling again, and the collective movement halted just as abruptly. They were boxed in.
“Why does your kind always believe that I would want anything from the likes of you?” He sounded surprisingly civilized for a troll. Greta supposed she’d been expecting a raging beast, not an intelligent monster.
“You never know, right? Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”
Siona tensed, too. Out of the corner of her eye, Greta saw her glance at Byron and Leila with a frown. They nodded and Siona leaned close to Greta and whispered, “Just because he can carry on a conversation doesn’t mean he won’t rip our throats out.”
True, but if he was willing to negotiate, their chances of making it through this just got a hell of a lot better.
Another roar echoed from somewhere in the woods behind them. It sounded much closer than before, as if it was following a scent…their scent. They might not have time to negotiate.
“It can’t hurt to at least listen to what we have to offer, right?” she said quickly. “And if you decide that you want nothing, my group and I will go back where we came from and leave you alone. No harm, no foul.”
Byron started to object. Was he trying to get them all killed?
The rizos snarled again, and the faerie prince shut his mouth. The bjer uttered a sharp command. Greta spared a glance behind her. The beast let out a disappointed whine before sitting back on its haunches. Thick, murky drool escaped each side of its slightly parted jaws and stretched in long lines toward the ground.
“I will afford you the same terms I have given all who trespass and seek to cross the bridge,” said the bjer.
That word, “trespass,” was ominous, and the idea of terms didn’t make her feel any better about their odds. “What terms are those?”
There was a scary gleam in his eyes. “Not that it matters. Everyone always chooses the same option…and everyone always loses.”
“We have no time for games,” Byron said, sharp impatience cutting through his tone. “Tell us your terms and let us be done with you.”
He only laughed again. “First I will give you the more than generous opportunity to turn around and leave now if you promise to go back, spread word of the legitimacy of my claim on this territory, and never return.”
The troll was very possessive of the little parcel of land he’d claimed. This wasn’t about negotiating dinner—except maybe for the rizos—it was about protecting what he considered his. That gave her an idea.
“My apologies, dolem,” she said, “but we can’t just leave, as much as we regr
et trespassing on your property.” Her chest was tight with nervousness. “We need to get across that bridge.”
“The offer will not remain open. If you choose to ignore it, all of you will suffer the consequences of that decision.”
Byron opened his mouth—no doubt to argue—but she quickly stepped in front of him and resheathed her sword, then held out her hands in a show of good faith. “What is your name, sir?”
The bjer blinked and reared back in surprise. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
She pasted a smile on her face. “If we are to negotiate together, I think it’s only fair that we both know who we’re dealing with, don’t you?”
The bjer nodded eagerly, clearly bewildered. A sliver of sadness wormed its way into her chest. Maybe it was stupid and would come back to bite her in the ass, but she felt bad for him. Here was a creature who’d obviously spent his entire life alone, being hated by everyone he met just because of who he was. By the Great Mother, that was something she could relate to.
Beside her, Byron and Leila seemed to seethe with impatience and dissatisfaction. The magick rose up, clogging her throat, but she was determined not to let it take over.
“My name is Greta, and these are my friends.” She took a deep breath and held out her hand, waiting for the bjer to reciprocate and hoping he didn’t see it as an invitation for him to throw her over the edge of the cliff.
He reached out. His hand engulfed her arm almost to the elbow, pumping it up and down twice. She gasped. One more time and her limb might not be attached anymore.
“I was once called Midas,” he said. His gaze hopped from her to Byron and landed on the sharp blade in Dryden’s hand, still held at the ready.
She sent him a harsh glare. “Put that away,” she snapped under her breath as she forced a smile for Midas. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Midas.”
Dryden wasn’t putting his weapon away. In fact, he seemed to want a fight. His very posture was begging for it. Midas’s gaze narrowed, his mouth turning down in a suspicious frown. “Do not make the mistake of believing that false courtesy will be enough to gain passage across my land,” he warned.
“Of course not,” she hurried to say. “I’m sure we can abide by your terms. Please just tell us. What is the other option?”
Midas straightened back to his full height and put his hands on his hips. “I will grant access to the bridge if you can make the payment I require.”
She let out a sigh of relief, but Midas shook his head. “I will only accept a truly unique treasure. Something I have never been given before.”
“But how will we know what you have already received in the past?”
“You won’t. You must take that chance.” His gaze narrowed as he leaned forward. “And your time runs short.”
Chapter Twelve
Greta felt sympathy for the bjer, but if they didn’t give him what he wanted, he was going to run them down and scoop them up for his stew pot. Of that she had no doubt.
She could practically hear Siona strategizing, feel Wyatt’s tension, and see the faeries readying their swords. She wanted to tell them that she’d already played this out in her mind, and responding with aggression just wasn’t going to work. They couldn’t fight hard enough and couldn’t run fast enough, not for everyone to make it to the bridge safely.
“Will you allow a moment of discussion?” she asked politely.
Midas took a half step back, but he waggled an oversized finger. “Don’t try to trick me, and don’t waste my time,” he warned.
She nodded, certain that too many Myleans had underestimated this guy already. “Please, Midas. It’s hard to think with the rizos salivating over us. Could you call it off?”
He hesitated but finally snapped another command at the beast. It turned and trudged back to its shelter. Greta shuddered as its red eyes glowed out at them from the dark shadows.
In fact, it was getting dark out here, too. The suns were almost on the horizon and the sky was hazy with clouds, which didn’t help visibility. They were burning away too much time.
She turned to the group. Having the bjer at her back sent prickles up and down her spine, but she tried to believe that Midas was going to play fair. “What do you think we can offer him that would be unique enough to keep him happy?”
Wyatt wasn’t letting the bjer out of his sight. He remained facing outward but threw a whisper over his shoulder, “You can bet he’s not going to get excited about coin or jewels. Someone will have tried that already. He doesn’t exactly look like he’s starving, but eating people has got to get old, right? Maybe if we promise to deliver up a couple head of fresh cattle?”
Siona shook her head. “If he wanted a cow, who would stop him from taking it from any field? We have to be able to provide something he couldn’t possibly get for himself from anyone else in Mylena.”
“Well, we aren’t Mylean,” Greta said. She looked at Wyatt. “There’s got to be something we can offer that nobody else can?”
“Trouble?” he said with a grin. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she smiled back.
Siona cleared her throat. “Humans are certainly unique.”
“I’ve got it,” Wyatt said. “Music.”
“What does he mean?” The princess asked, curious.
Wyatt looked at her, an excited gleam in his eyes. “Humans are born with music in our hearts. We sing and dance for pretty much every occasion you could conceive of. Music is entrenched in our culture in a way that I’ve never seen anywhere in Mylena.”
“We have music,” Siona protested.
“Not like we have music,” Wyatt said. “And our music would be like nothing you’ve ever heard before.”
Greta sucked in a breath as hope bloomed. “I sang to my pater when he was alive,” she said, remembering how mesmerized Luke had been by the sound.
Dryden and Byron both frowned. They seemed to have the same opinion about this idea. “Should we believe that something so intangible as a song will be special enough to win us passage when others have offered the bjer gold and jewels, and perhaps even their firstborn children?” Byron said.
“This is the thing. This is what we have to bargain with,” Wyatt said with conviction. He paused and looked at her expectantly. “You can do this.”
“What?” She stepped back. “Why me?”
“You said that you used to sing to your pater and he liked it.”
“Yeah, but he was probably tone-deaf,” she protested, “and all I ever sang to him were bits and pieces of the lullabies and the stupid cartoon theme songs that I could remember from being a kid.”
Wyatt nodded. “What you sing doesn’t matter, because nobody in Mylena has ever heard it before. It will work,” he assured her.
“Have you nothing to offer me, then?” the bjer’s voice boomed, making her jump. As if on cue his pet growled, poking its head out of the shelter.
“No more time for debate,” Byron said.
Wyatt’s hand slipped over hers and squeezed. She took a deep breath and turned to face Midas.
“Do we ever have something for you,” Wyatt called up to the bjer like a ringmaster announcing the main event under the big top. Not that she’d ever been to the circus, but she had a feeling this farce would certainly qualify. “Something so beautiful…so amazing and unique it can never be duplicated. You won’t believe your ears.”
Oh, God. He was going to get all of them killed.
Midas crossed his arms over that wide, barrel chest and narrowed his gaze all the way down until he settled on Wyatt. They all swallowed, suitably intimidated. “Then by all means,” Midas said, “present it now before I lose what is left of my patience and decide I will have no offer from any of you.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” Siona piped up. “If you reject this gift out of spite, you are sure to regret it for the rest of your life. A moment’s satisfaction in your belly is nothing compared to the loss you will sustain. Your heart will mourn with every beat
because it will never know the beauty that could have been.”
The goblin grinned at Wyatt. She waved her arm to present Greta to the bjer, reminding her of the tonic salesman who stood out front of his carriage at the village market and called one and all to experience the magic of his wares, claiming his fancy vials filled with bitter root juice and cow piss would make you stronger or prettier or healthier.
Dryden elbowed Siona sharply in the ribs. She coughed and her voice fell off.
Wyatt wrapped up the pitch. “You asked for a treasure, and we introduce to you the greatest treasure anyone in Mylena will ever experience.”
He took half a step back and gave Greta a push forward.
“We would like to offer you the gift of song,” she said slowly.
Midas gazed at her intensely, doubt pulling his pale forehead into deep crinkles like cracks across the permafrost of the western plains on the other side of the goblin forest.
“I promise you’ll like it.”
He crossed his massive arms, the muscles bulging like swelling balloons. “Then by all means,” he said. “Present this offering.”
Greta ducked her head and clenched her eyes tightly closed. She took a deep breath and started to sing the only song she was pretty sure she could still remember from start to finish. It was a lullaby her mother had sung at bedtime when she was a little girl. It was also the song Luke had liked best when he was alive, which is probably why it was still clear in her head.
“Whenever you are crying, I will hold you. Whatever you are doing, I’ll defend you.”
Her voice started out thin and weak as nervousness choked her. She was going to blow this. She couldn’t hold the melody, her voice was cracking. The bjer looked as if he was going to blow a gasket, probably wondering what kind of cheap trick they were pulling on him.
“Wherever you are hiding, I’ll find you. However you are hurting, I’ll comfort you. Wherever you are, nearby or far, I’ll follow the stars just to be with you.”