The Troll Bride

by S. J. Sanders

  There’s something very wrong with him.

  Cavekji begins to wail as the male stares down at me, menace burning in his features. My heart beats in terror and my eyes widen as he looms closer, his nostrils expanding to scent the air around me. The happy growling sounds as he discovers something that he likes make me shudder.

  A large hand with wicked claws snatches me up, hauling me into the darkness.

  Chapter 17

  Cavek

  In the Evarue territory, a break in the trees gives way to a small grassy meadow where several streams feed into a giant lake. The Evarue do not den there, preferring the thick root system to make their home, much like trolls do, but the meadow attracts various animals that they hunt. One particular area closest to the dens has a rocky outcropping where a few of the females and younger males often take the tribe’s kits to exercise and play, and where the community itself often converges. Here is where I spend most of my days while with the Evarue Tribe when not in the small den reserved for visitors at the fringe of their community.

  The first several days were a difficult adjustment. The nightmare that hadn’t plagued me since sealing my mating bond returned with a vengeance, surrounded as I am now deep in werewolf territory. Although I spoke confidently to my mate, it’s difficult to remember at times that these are not the same werewolves who held and tortured me. I still sometimes tense when many males are too close to me, much to my shame. I know they can smell the trepidation on me, and I’m thankful when they shift away from me despite my embarrassment. Perhaps they sympathize with me in a fashion, preferring their solitude away from other species.

  The werewolves in general are distrustful of outsiders, although curious. Especially the kits. Despite the large size of the males, the females are smaller, only a little smaller than an average-sized female troll. The kits, however, are smaller than trollbies, but this makes sense given that they’re born in litters. They are the most inquisitive, following anything that their tiny flicking ears hear, or pinkish noses catch scent of.

  I sit cross-legged on a large boulder and watch the kits playing under the patient supervision of the adults lying in the grass or on similar rocks to the one I am perched on. Not for the first time since I’ve accompanied the Evarue ambassadors into their territory, I miss my family. I look down and am surprised to see that at some point I had pulled out Cavekji’s small doll and am clutching it in my hand. I lift it to my nose and draw the slowly fading scents of my family.

  “A memento from home?”

  I look up as Eral crouches by the boulder. He nods to the small toy in my hands. I allow my fingers to relax and caress the fibers.

  “It belongs to my son. It carries the scents of my family. I was driven to take it with me when I left.”

  Eral tilts his head and looks at it with renewed interest. He delicately sniffs and I clutch the doll tighter, letting loose a low warning growl. He has no business scenting my family. They’re mine. The male doesn’t respond other than to flick his ears with curiosity.

  “I mean no offense,” he says stoically. “I was merely curious if the scent was strong enough to give comfort. I understand that with a new mate and such a young offspring, being apart from them must be difficult. Their scents are well-imbued on the doll. It must help. That is a clever way of managing it. Perhaps I will recommend my hunters do the same when we must be apart from our loved ones.”

  Eral opens his mouth to say something more but a howl goes out and is quickly carried by the other wolves. The male frowns.

  “Baru is warning the pack that there is an intruder. A troll.” He listens a moment longer before easing back up to his feet. “Falo recognizes him. Your brother approaches.”

  I grunt in acknowledgment and swing my feet down from the rock just as Serus comes into view. Several werewolves trail close behind him, hackles raised. My brother, in his typical careless manner, seems entirely unconcerned with the threat. Strangely, despite his lack of self-preservation that would demand he at least notice the werewolves reacting with hostility to his uninvited intrusion, he seems anxious.

  Something is wrong.

  He raises a large hand in greeting and hastens his pace. I stride forward out of concern, meeting him halfway.

  My brother’s hands immediately come up to grip me with such steely strength it’s as if he is holding me in place. His instinctual need to restrain me doesn’t bode well. Alarm flashes through me.

  “Serus, what—?”

  “Cavek,” he rasps, emotion stopping his words. “Kate and Cavekji—Cavek, they are gone.”

  The world drops away from me and I cannot breathe. I feel lost, fumbling in an inner darkness. Kate, my light, is gone? I don’t even notice that I dropped the small doll until my brother presses it back into my hands, his eyes brimming with sympathy.

  “No, that’s not possible.”

  My brother’s grip intensifies, and I don’t realize until that moment that I’m struggling against his hold.

  “They are gone, Cavek. Whoever is behind it also tried to get Boukie from the palace garden. If it weren’t for Stitch—anyway, she is safe,” he says soothingly, although I’m not sure if that last part was more for me or for himself.

  “What happened?” I manage to pull myself together enough to ask.

  My brother grimaces, his eyes dim. “We don’t really know. Boukie was playing in the gardens with that young male she befriended. Stitch was raising such a terrible clamor that I, Garol, and several guards rushed out. Stitch’s muzzle was covered in blood, so it is obvious he managed to bite whoever tried to take her... but by the gods, it was a near thing.”

  “Garol went running out?” I mutter in disbelief.

  Serus shrugs and he gives me a wan smile. “Garol has some strange priorities, but he is not heartless. And of late, Boukie is the only one who manages to be unoffended by our brother’s sour attitude. When Stitch began to bark, I swear to you that he ran faster than any of us to get there.”

  His smile fell. “Boukie had been crying all day about something not being scary, and a bad person, but none of us knew what to make of it. Boukie couldn’t even tell us anything about the attacker other than that it was a bad person all covered up. My guess is that they covered themselves with a hooded cape. She is unharmed, but her friend Bafulk was hit hard enough to leave a sizeable lump on his head when he came to. After Boukie’s attack, I went immediately to your den. I am so sorry, Cavek. We have males looking all over the territory for them.”

  I swallow thickly and nod. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real at this moment. Is this another night terror? I don’t think so. I don’t think even my imagination would have conjured my brother looking so distraught. He didn’t even look that way even when they rescued me from the Warue.

  I turn to address my hosts.

  “My apologies. I must go now.”

  Eral nods as if he expects nothing else. He lets out a series of low yips and three other wolves slide up beside him, two silvery males and a tawny-colored female.

  “With your permission, Alpha Baru, we will assist the trolls. Our kind has a greater ability for tracking once we have their scents. We can do no less for those we wish for our allies.”

  Baru frowns but reluctantly nods. Falo, however, immediately objects.

  “Brother, why should we send any of ours after a human? They are weak and will breed their weakness into the peoples of Ov’Ge. It is likely already dead, and the offspring with it. There is no reason to expend any of our hunters for this. I am certain they would rather remain in our own territories.”

  Eral bristles and growls. “You do not speak for all of us, Falo.”

  Distantly, I am aware that the conversation takes an ugly turn, but my mind is elsewhere. There is only the all-consuming need to find my mate and son.

  “You all figure it out, but I am going home. If you wish to help us, it is welcome, but do not worry, I will not ask the time of anyone who would consider my mate and son as l
esser beings,” I snarl, the last aimed directly at Falo.

  The male flattens his ears, his fur bristling, but Baru quells him with a single glance.

  “Although I share Falo’s opinion, I will not stop any of our hunters who may wish to assist our new allies.” His golden gaze slides over Eral and his companions. “If you are all of the mind to go, I do not object, except to remind Eral that he has responsibilities here—so do not tarry too long hunting for the human.”

  Eral bares his teeth slightly but does not otherwise object to his alpha’s command. He exchanges a look with the three other wolves and each of them nod to his silent question. He smiles coolly at his brothers.

  “It is agreed. We will go then.”

  “I shall go as well,” another female calls out, shifting the kit she holds to another female. She is large of size, larger than many of the other females of the tribe. “Cavek has been nothing but kind and generous to our kits in the days he has been here. I will not allow his mate and offspring to suffer without him.”

  Baru growls. “Shava, you would leave our kit? I forbid it.”

  Her ice-blue eyes narrow on him. “You forget yourself, mate. I am alpha of our tribe as well. If I choose to go, you have no command over me. Besides, our kits are weaned. They will be fine under my sister’s watch.”

  It takes only a full day to arrive back at the palace of the Middling Way Kingdom. I do not even bother to go home. I do not wish to spend even a minute in that place so surrounded by the memory and scent of my mate while she’s out of my reach.

  Boukie flings her arms around me, her body wracked with sobs. My mother barely gives me a moment before she embraces me as well.

  My mother, being a female of strong feeling, wears her sorrow like a heavy shroud. Almost literally. Not a single shiny bauble clings to her gown, and even the dress itself is the palest rose, lacking her usual vibrant edge. Concern seems to have infected everyone in the palace. Even my father’s face is carved heavily with lines of worry. At his approach, anger flares up in me and I do not hesitate to slam my fist into his jaw. I hear a few of his teeth break.

  The guards immediately shift their spears toward me, but the wolves converge around me, their fur bristling and lips pulled back from their fangs as they snarl threateningly. My father throws up his hand to halt the guard.

  “Enough,” he growls, an expression of remorse flashing over his face, and he rubs his jaw. “I deserved that.”

  “Uh, what?” I’m frozen in place as my father pulls me into a short hug.

  “I did not think you had a hit like that in you, son,” he says with a hint of pride. I almost want to snort derisively. It’s not like I haven’t beaten the shit out of plenty of people or killed my fair share in the heat of battle, but my father has always considered me softer in temperament compared to my brothers.

  Still, I have never heard my father admit to any wrongdoing on his part.

  My father clears his throat. “I may have been wrong to send you as a delegate without your family when you’d requested it.”

  Mother scowls. “Might have?” she snarls, her hair nearly standing on end. Father grumbles and shoots an annoyed glare at his mate.

  “I was wrong,” he amends gruffly. “You never would have taken them if you felt there was any danger. I shouldn’t have insisted on your separation just because I thought your family might be a distraction. I apologize. I should have trusted your judgment. If I had, you may have been spared this loss.”

  I’m unwilling to accept any finality of ‘this loss’ that the rest of my family seems to be grieving over. They don’t know my mate like I do. She will never give up, and she will protect our son. They’re waiting for me to find them.

  I accept the gruff condolences from Garol, and Mimi seems to be unable to stop crying. She gets her extreme sentimentality from our mother. Even though she only met Kate once, she’s inconsolable. She soaks the shoulder of my tunic when we embrace. All of my family is present to be with me...

  No, one person is missing.

  “Cavek, I came as soon as I heard!” Vandra cries as she strides briskly into the room, the latest elvish fashion draping elegantly over her robust frame. It looks almost as ridiculous on her as mother’s hideous attire, but I hold my tongue. I know that Vandra admires the elves, for whatever reason that may be. She’s my sister and she’s here for me, like always.

  I smile and hug my sister. She smells peculiar, but Vandra spends a lot of time hunting and often comes home smelling strange. I frown as I catch the scent of blood.

  “Vandra, did you hurt yourself?” I ask, pulling back to inspect my sibling.

  “Nothing to worry about. We must focus on your mate right now,” she says, trying to push me off. I grab her arm as she protests, but she gnashes her teeth with pain and shoves me back.

  Boukie looks over at that moment, her eyes go wide, and she screams in panic as she clings tightly to Serus. Stitch, who’d been sleeping in a corner, goes berserk. Quicker than I have ever seen the lazy creature move, he’s at our side and guards barely manage to restrain him when he attempts to lunge at Vandra. The entire room is in chaos.

  I yank up the billowing sleeve of my sister’s gown and stare in horror at the bandaging that wraps her arm from elbow to wrist. My heart sinks, even as my brain attempts to deny it. But there is no denying that she had been bitten by a young mawu—by Stitch.

  “Vandra? You? Why?” I demand, my voice deepening with the snarl punctuating each word. “Why would you seek to destroy me?” I roar.

  I leap at her with the full intent to end her miserable life right then and there as surely as she’d sentenced my mate and son to death without a qualm. My brothers barely manage to hold me back, even though they shake with rage themselves. None more than Serus, who stares in wide-eyed horror and disgust at our sister who has always been highly favored in our family and often spoiled.

  “Destroy you? I have saved you. I have saved all of us!” she declares, her spine stiffening with pride. “When I overheard the elvish ambassadors tell Father that the elves would cut off any ties with us and refuse us entry into their territory or court if we took human mates, I knew I had to act. I couldn’t allow it! She should have stayed gone. I stole her letter so that you would never know. I even arranged for the Warue to detain you so you could not return to Ov’Ge. You were supposed to forget her.”

  I look at her with disgust. I cannot believe this foul being is the one I’ve praised, loved, and called beloved sister for all these years. “You were the one responsible for my torture!”

  She has the grace to look regretful at that. “I did not know that they would torture you—I swear it. They were just supposed to hold you.”

  “You gave them exactly what they wanted. A troll with access to our kingdom’s secrets,” I snarl. “What did you think they would do? And even that I might have forgiven, but you attacked my family? What did you do with them?”

  Vandra straightens the hem on her sleeve and glares at me. “I did not kill them, if that is what you are asking. I merely dropped them deep in Warue territory. Those beasts can dispose of them however they see fit,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand as if my family was nothing to her but bothersome insects.

  I roar in rage and again attempt to seize my sister. Only the efforts of both my brothers and the added strength of two werewolves keep me from tearing her throat out. I would delight to dance in her blood, to drench myself in it as a sacrifice to my mate should her shade already walk with her ancestors. All I can do is growl helplessly in the merciless grip of the males who restrain me.

  “I will never forgive you for this, Vandra,” I snarl. “I swear to you that if anything has happened to my mate and son, I will never give you a moment of peace, not even when your spirit departs for the next world. I will bind it so that I wreak my vengeance on you for the rest of days.”

  Vandra pales and steps away from me. She looks to our parents, her lip trembling.

  �
��Mother? Father? You are not going to say anything?”

  Mother takes a deep breath and steps forward with regal solemnity. She does not smile, nor does she laugh. She doesn’t spare even a word for her eldest daughter. She looks her child in the face and swipes her claws down our sister’s cheek, ruining not only her beauty but marking her for all to see as a betrayer of kin. She steps away and turns her back on our sister, gathering Boukie into her arms as she retreats from the room with a firm nod to Father as she departs.

  “Father?” Vandra whispers.

  Unlike Mother’s unforgiving silence, Father looks genuinely pained. His usually stoic reserve crumbles and he seems to age right before me. The lines of sorrow become deeper grooves and he closes his eyes, the sparkle of moisture in his eyes the only indication of the true depth of his sorrow. He slowly regains control of himself and looks Vandra in the eye with steely resolve.

  “Guards, imprison Princess Vandra,” my father says with bitter resolution.

  Vandra laughs. “Father, you cannot be serious. I heard you agree with an advisor that it would be best if we of the Middling Way not mate with humans rather than face the displeasure of the Sehriel court.

  “That may be,” my father agrees, his brow drawn low. “But once done, that did not mean I advocated doing anything that would harm your brother’s mate or their bond, much less my grandchild. You have disgraced me and our kingdom, Vandra. You will be imprisoned for the rest of your days on the eastern border of our territory.”

  “Wait!” Vandra cries, her smiles yielding to a look of terror. “Father no! I did it for you, for all of us. Father, wait!” she screams as the guards haul her out the door, the heavy doors slamming with finality behind them. It isn’t until that moment that I am released.

  I sag onto the floor, weeping bitter tears without shame. Mimi sinks down beside me and throws her arms against me, her soft face nestled beneath the roughness of my jaw. I feel a hand from each of my brothers rest lightly on my shoulders, giving comfort in their own way. I look up at them in gratitude. Serus is drawn and tired, but Garol surprises me the most. His usual reserved mask is shattered, and he looks down at me with raw compassion.