by Emma Hamm
“I am.” She took his hand at her waist and coiled his fingers in the fabric of the cloak. “Dance with me, Donnacha, and let’s show them how a real Seelie Court hosts a ball.”
“What are you doing?” His eyes widened in shock the moment she spun away from him.
Elva channeled every bit of herself that she used to be, the woman who had walked into a ball and had every eye on her. The first spin took away the cloak. The second and others that followed revealed the beautiful storm cloud of a dress. Gossamer fabric danced down her arms like mist, turning into diamond-studded lightning around her legs.
Elva shook her hair down around her shoulders in curls as golden as wheat. She raised her arms above her head in a pirouette and then slowed her turns until she ended in a graceful curtsey.
The trolls gasped and took steps away from her, as if she were frightening in her beauty. And she was. For the first time in many centuries, Elva felt all the things that Donnacha had seen in her. She could be feminine and fierce at the same time. Soft and strong.
She raised her hand, stepped forward, and then waited until he placed his hand at her waist once more. He looked up into her eyes with all his heart in his gaze.
“You are beautiful,” he said. “My warrior woman who smells like wildflowers.”
Elva hadn’t realized she wanted to hear those words so desperately until he said them. Gods, he was the most perfect man she’d ever met, and she wanted to devour him.
The smile on her face hurt it was so wide. “I’m so tired of listening to this music, my dear.”
She lifted her hands and snapped her fingers. The musicians looked around in confusion before looking down at their instruments once more. This time when they picked them up, they played the most stunning symphony the trolls would ever hear in their lifetimes.
“How did you do that?” Donnacha asked.
“Have you ever seen a Tuatha de Danann use magic?”
“Never.”
“Good.” She leaned down and tugged him closer. “I’m glad I’m your first.”
If it hadn’t been quite so loud in the ballroom, Elva was certain she would have heard him audibly gulp. The poor man hadn’t stood a chance at keeping his heart when they’d had nothing but darkness and shadows between them. Now that he could see her and she was back to her former glory… Well, Elva pitied the man.
An angered shout rocked through the room. “Mummy! She’s too pretty to be near my groom. She’s supposed to be an ugly hunchback!”
The Troll Queen whirled in her armored gown and lifted a hand. “Guards! Apprehend that woman!”
Big words for a creature who refused to dirty her hands with battle.
Elva arched a brow. “Do you trust me, Donnacha?”
“With my life.”
“Then dance with me dwarf. Let’s see how good I am at magic these days.”
Donnacha didn’t wait. He tugged her into a waltz, and Elva unleashed all the power she’d held at bay since she became the wife of the Seelie King. She hadn’t wanted Fionn to see how powerful she could be because he hadn’t wanted her to be stronger than him. Back then, she’d thought men didn’t like women who were infinitely more than them.
Donnacha had given that back to her. This dwarf who had realized she was worthy no matter what was inside her or what she was capable of. This dwarf who appreciated her abilities just because they were hers and no one else’s.
It took only a breath of thought, and they lifted into the air. Waltzing across the tops of the trolls and higher and higher. No one could reach them up here. Though they could still hear the angered shouts, the music was louder and filled their ears with much more pleasant sounds.
“How is this possible?” he asked.
“Faerie magic is like a wish. All you have to do is believe and then…magic happens.”
“That’s remarkable.” He paused, “I had forgotten that.”
“It’s not really,” she said, her cheeks burning with a blush. “But I’m glad you think so.”
Donnacha’s hand tightened at her waist. “What would we have done if we met like this at a Seelie ball?’
She laughed. “We never would have met at a Seelie ball. The dwarves would have stayed to themselves, and I would have had a hundred Tuatha de Danann jostling for my attention.”
“Ah, because you are the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen?”
“Because they like to own shiny things, and I am all the rage now that I’m free.” She slid her hand up his shoulder and touched his chin. “But I still would have seen you from across the room. Even in all this splendor, you still carry something of the mountain with you.”
“Do I?”
“Something in the set of your jaw, the stubbornness there, or maybe it’s the deep blue of mountain lakes in your eyes.”
Donnacha twirled her in a circle, raising his arm for her to dip under before bringing her back to his chest. “I never would have thought a warrior woman could be a poet.”
“And why not?”
“You’re a woman of action, not of words.”
She looked at him with all the softness inside her, all the kindness that came pouring out because he had fixed her. “Words abandoned me for a while. They fled from my head and dripped off my tongue in bitter droplets, but you gave them back to me. You reminded me that rosewater is not something to be afraid of, even in myself. I don’t have to frighten people away. By doing that, all I’ve done is miss out on meeting more people like you.”
“I’m glad I could give you that.” He rubbed her back. “It’s a shame I couldn’t see you put that to good use.”
“Are you really giving up then?”
He nodded. “I am. And you should, too. Leave this cursed place. Go on all the adventures you thought you would and remember me while you’re there.”
Elva shook her head. “I’m not going to toss your ashes off the cliffs, Donnacha. You aren’t dead yet, and that means I can still save you.”
“You’re a stubborn woman.”
“Yes, I am.”
He sighed in anger and then finally nodded. “Fine. Come to me one last time. We’ll figure it out.”
“I will.”
“How are you going to get out of this ballroom now that everyone knows you’re here?”
Relief flooded her chest. He hadn’t given up just yet, which meant neither would she. There was a chance now, and that was all she needed.
Elva tucked a hand behind his neck. “Dip me and then kiss me, dwarf.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He stopped them in a grand twirl, dipped her with his hands holding her close to his heart. Donnacha hesitated for a brief moment when she heard the enraged scream of the troll princess.
“I think I might love you,” he whispered the moment before he kissed her.
And it was a kiss to end all kisses. She’d never forget the way he devoured her lips and poured secrets into her soul. He gave her everything he was. The promise of a future, the salty taste of hope, and the cool salve knowing he believed in her.
Elva cupped his jaw and gave him everything she was back. The hope that they would see another life together because she had traveled across the realms to find him and wasn’t letting him go just yet.
When it was finished, she licked her lips and looked up into his eyes. “Stay alive, Donnacha. I will come for you.”
“Anything for you.”
Elva flexed her power one last time. The spell would set him back on the ground gently, and it made her melt from his arms and appear on the hill beyond the castle once more. Here, she would plan her attack.
She would get him back.
19
Elva breathed out a sigh that created mist in the cold morning air. This was her last chance. She focused her attentions on what could save Donnacha, and it had to be the best deal she’d made yet with the troll princess.
Shuffling footsteps approached her from the bottom of the hill. “Faerie?”
The buggane was still here. She’d been so enchanted by the story Elva had told her on she had repeated it when they met again. The dress had worked, well, sort of. She’d been so defeated that even the magic of the evening and the faces of the disappointed trolls hadn’t been enough to make her happy.
Elva turned. “Hello, buggane.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
Not really. There was so much happening that she couldn’t think. There was only one more deal to make, and then she feared Donnacha would really give up. Elva brushed her hair away from her face and nodded. “Return home, buggane. See if you can find the king of the dwarves and tell him to race here with an army if possible. There might need to be a war to get him out.”
“But the king didn’t want that.”
“You may tell him I am concerned I will fail. That both Donnacha and I might be caught, and all will be lost.”
“You can’t think like that, faerie princess. Stories like these always end happily.”
She wasn’t so sure this was a fairytale after all. With everything they’d suffered through, with everything they’d survived, she had a feeling this would end a different way.
Elva shook her head. “Just go. Let him know that he is needed. Whether we succeed or not, I don’t think the journey will be easy for either of us to make.”
The buggane finally nodded and trudged back down the hill. Elva watched the furry beast until she disappeared into the undergrowth. Somehow, the strange creature had become rather dear to Elva. She wasn’t sure how that happened, or when.
Elva had never made friends easily, even when she didn’t have the weight of her own disappointment riding on her shoulders.
Back when she was a spoiled brat, no one had wanted to hear what she had to say. No one other than Bran, and then he’d married her sister, so what did that really say? She had thoughts in her head, but no one really wanted to hear those thoughts. They wanted to look at her, to find her pretty, but never for her to open her mouth.
Then, she’d taken back her life in a grasp that was used to heft a sword, to swing it at those who denied her rights. Unfortunately, that had brought about even less friends. No one wanted to be seen with the faerie princess who had gotten herself involved with less than acceptable hobbies.
The buggane had seen through that. She’d smiled when Elva didn’t think she knew how to smile anymore. She’d opened her arms and created a warm haven when Elva was cold, without anyone asking her to. And most importantly, the buggane believed in her.
Elva didn’t know what to do with that.
No one had ever believed in her so easily before, other than Donnacha, who was just as much a mystery as the buggane.
Who were these faeries who trusted so easily? And how did they do it?
She turned back toward the castle and wondered if the Troll Queen could see her even now. The queen hadn’t reacted at all when she’d revealed herself. Did the creature have someone watching her?
Elva wondered if it was truly because the woman had such confidence that she didn’t care if Elva was there. If she really thought that no one could defeat her.
The pack weighed heavy on Elva’s spine. It almost felt as though it were getting heavier with every step toward the castle. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she reached behind her and closed her fingers on the hilt of what was clearly a sword. What magic was this? Was this the next item she was supposed to give the troll princess?
Flowers tainted the air with the most beautiful of scents. Petals that had fallen to the ground crunched under her feet as she made her way toward a bench to wait for the troll princess.
The sun had come out in a rare moment of warmth for the troll kingdom. Elva desperately wanted to feel the heat on her face, so she supposed it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she tilted back her head and closed her eyes. The hood fell from covering her face, and she left it at her shoulders. They already knew who she was. Even the troll princess wasn’t so foolish that she would mistake the hunchback for anything other than faerie now.
The door to the castle slammed open, and the troll princess stomped toward her. “You!”
Elva kept her head tilted back. She carefully shifted the pack from her shoulders, however, and let it fall to the ground at her feet. “Yes, me.”
“Do you know how much you embarrassed me? Mother yelled at me all night!”
“I’m sure she did.”
“You made it seem like you were a hunchback! Not…” The troll princess waited until Elva opened her eyes and looked at her, then waved up and down. “This.”
“A faerie?”
“You’re more than just a faerie. You’re from the Seelie Court!”
“Yes, I am.” And for the first time in her life, she was proud to say that. She didn’t want to hide who she was or where she came from. She wanted the troll princess to know that a true thing of beauty sat before her, and she should be intimidated by that fact.
The troll princess faltered in her anger, staring into Elva’s gaze. “But why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you lie to me? Or make it seem like you weren’t who you were? You can’t possibly be interested in a dwarf.” The troll spat the last word like it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“You’re interested in the dwarf.”
“I only want him because he will make my children strong. You don’t want to have children. Seelie faeries never do. So why are you interested in him?”
Elva thought about misleading the troll again. She could convince her there was something else going on, that Donnacha owed her a beautiful trinket or he should have given her something in the form of a deal. But she didn’t want to lie anymore. “He makes me feel like a person again.”
The troll princess shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I really, but then again, men are difficult to understand.” If she had understood their kind a long time ago, then she might have stayed out of the mess of her life.
They stared at each other in silence for a little while. Elva couldn’t hazard a guess at what was going through the troll princess’s mind. She was a dim-witted creature, although Elva was certain there was something else underneath the fabric of this creature’s being. The troll princess wanted people to think she was foolish. In Elva’s experience, that was rarely the case with women like that.
Finally, the troll princess blew out a breath and raised her arms in the air. “Fine then. What do you want this time?”
“I want to make another deal.”
“For what?”
“A little time with the dwarf. Yet again.”
The troll princess crossed her arms, and Elva saw there was a glint of emerald still at her throat. “I’m just going to put him to sleep again. You realize this, yes?”
“Even if you do, it was worth the trade.”
“To sit and stare at a sleeping man? You’ll have to excuse me when I say I don’t believe that at all.”
So she was a little more intelligent than she let the rest of them believe. Elva pitied this creature who had more between her ears than just the thoughts of a foolish child. “What do you want? Let me ask this first before I say anything else. What do you want out of life, Troll Princess?”
The other woman hesitated. Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at Elva with a calculating look that didn’t go with her personality in the slightest. “Why do you ask?”
“I wonder if this is all your mother’s plan, and not yours at all. To fall in love with a dwarf is a difficult thing. I know this to be true. I don’t see you as someone who wants to be a mother yet, so I don’t think you want him for a child. Why is he here? Why are you here?”
“I want to make my mother proud.” But her eyes slanted to the side when she said it.
“That’s what everyone says you should want, I’m sure. But what do you want, Troll Princess?”
When the troll princess opened her mouth, there was something els
e in her words. Some hint of light and desire and truth that Elva hadn’t heard before. For a moment, Elva thought she had managed to convince the creature to tell the truth.
Then it disappeared. Like a mask had fallen over her face, the troll princess glowered and then stamped her foot. “Just give me what you have in your pack!”
Fine. If that was the game they were going to play, then Elva would make sure she played her part. She reached into the pack and drew out the gleaming golden sword.
The hilt was a wolf swallowing the blade, and she recognized this fake for what it tried so desperately to mimic. The Sword of Nuada. The legendary blade that could make an army stop in its tracks and men fall to their knees to be beheaded without complaint.
She swallowed hard then looked at the troll princess whose mouth had fallen open. “Do you know what this sword is?”
“Nuada’s blade,” the troll princess said with awe.
If Elva didn’t correct the other woman, it wasn’t technically a lie. So she didn’t.
The troll princess reached out for the sword and took it. A shiver traveled down Elva’s spine at the sight. She shouldn’t have given this creature a sword, not when she already had everyone else under her heel. But the troll princess didn’t swing it at Elva. Instead, she hefted it in her hands and let the tip touch the ground.
“It’s beautiful,” the troll princess whispered. “I never thought to see it in my lifetime.”
“Neither had I.”
“Why would you give me something so precious? Just to see a dwarf?”
Elva shrugged. “He’s more important to me than a sword.”
“I don’t understand that thought,” the troll princess replied, her hands curling more comfortably around the hilt. “I’ve never thought so highly of someone that I would give up so many precious things.”
“They’re just objects. Emotions can’t be replaced with physicals things. It’s like trying to replace the song of a bird with a bird itself. Without the music, the bird is just another bird.”
Again, the troll shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”
“The sword is gifted for a night with the dwarf and the assurance that your mother will not appear again.”
