Curse of the Troll by Emma Hamm (novels to read .txt) 📕

Elva’s shoulders curved forward in defeat. “Why shouldn’t I leave the room?”

“Nighttime is dangerous in the castle.”

“The sun isn’t setting.” A sudden waft of cold air pushed through the door, and she realized the light had gone down. All of a sudden. But she’d most certainly seen the sun when she walked up the stairs, and it had still been high in the sky when she entered the castle. It wasn’t possible for it to be setting so soon.

The clurichaun poked his head in the gap between the door. He was a short, squat fellow. A shock of red hair tufted into a mohawk at his crown, and his cheeks were ruddy with drink. He came up to about her waist, what she expected was rather tall for one of his species, and his legs were far shorter than his torso.

“Sure, it isn’t,” he grumbled, squinting up at her. “This castle has a way of making its own weather, you see. I’d suggest you get under the covers.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m just telling you what’s safest, miss.”

She frowned at the small creature as he started away from her. Elva called out, “The master of this castle said no one else lived here.”

The clurichaun froze. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“I think he’d have a different opinion.”

When the faerie turned around, she realized he was clutching three bottles of liquid in his arms. Wine? She hadn’t imbibed in any since her time in the faerie courts. Humans didn’t have an abundance of the rare stuff. Not these days.

He watched her with narrowed eyes before he finally harrumphed. “What do you want?”

She held out her hand.

“No.”

Elva wriggled her fingers.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll just let the master know you’ve been raiding his storehouses. I’m sure the bear won’t mind at all that a strange faerie has been living in his cellars.” It was a shot in the dark. Most clurichaun didn’t want the people they stole from to know they were there. They could steal as long as the owner was completely unaware. Otherwise, they’d be run from the homes faster than they could pack up their things.

The clurichaun stomped back to her cracked doorway and thrust a bottle of wine at her. “Fine. Take it. But this is a one-time deal, then we’re paid up.”

“A single bottle of wine for a year of silence? You’ll have to do better than that.” She took the offered beverage, though.

He grumbled, counted on his fingers, then stuck out his tongue. “Fine. A couple a week?”

“How many is a couple?”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The clurichaun shook his head. “Two.”

“Three, and that’s the final offer.”

His lip curled in a snarl. “You drive a hard bargain, faerie woman.”

“Don’t I know it.” She held out her hand for him to shake, holding it in the air for a few heartbeats before he reluctantly shook it. “You’ve found yourself a partner, clurichaun. Pleasure doing business.”

“Wish I could say the same.” He waddled away from her, a bottle less in his arms, and she shut the door.

Elva pressed her back against it and stared up at the ceiling. What was she doing here? Drinking bottles of wine, soon to be buried under warm furs, for what? Why had he summoned her here?

She popped the cork and made her way to the bed. Her clothes remained on for the night. With the semi-transparent walls, the last thing she needed was the clurichaun getting any ideas. Or the bear.

Shivering, she sipped from the wine bottle and watched the walls for any shadows moving by. What could a bear possibly want from a faerie?

The question would plague her until she found an answer.

6

She was here. In the castle. With him.

No woman in her right mind would have traveled that far to trap themselves in a castle with a bear. It wasn’t possible she was simply kind enough to…what? Blindly throw herself into his arms because he’d asked for it?

Donnacha shook his head, pacing the halls outside his own bedroom. The huffing growls of his breath bounced off the ice.

It wasn’t possible that she’d decided to help him out of her own free will or the goodness of her heart. Just look at the woman. She was strong, powerful, and the sword at her side had the marks of use. He’d seen her use it on that strawman. Beheaded.

He might have grinned if it wouldn’t have looked like a snarl. The woman would use that sword on whoever stood in her way, he was certain of it. Who knew women like that were bred in the Seelie Courts? He’d thought only dwarven women had that kind of fire in their chests.

But he was getting distracted. She was here, and that was going to cause problems for him.

The Troll Queen had thought she would be a diversion, clearly. While Donnacha hadn’t been thinking straight in the moments, or days, after she’d told him how to break the curse, he was now. The only reason she’d brought a woman to the castle was because she thought it would push him toward her troll daughter.

He couldn’t figure out why she thought that. Bring a pretty little faerie woman into the castle? That was highly unlikely to make him think the troll daughter was a better option.

Of course, the dwarves and Tuatha de Danann weren’t exactly friends. Although his cousin, Angus, had entertained a few of the tall, lithe creatures before, Donnacha was more in line with the rest of his family. Some of their faerie kin were good folk. Others, the Tuatha de Danann included, were not.

Having her here would be an unnecessary nuisance, but one he could avoid. He’d placed her in the fairest room. They wouldn’t see each other often enough for either to form opinions. All he had to do was last for a year without her seeing his human face. That was a rather easy thing to do considering he was living as a bear. Nor did he have any portraits