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

this before. They could cut through anything. Literally, anything.

Once, she’d seen another faerie use it on three-foot thick stone. The blade had cut through it like butter and left a seared edge glowing red.

She must have made some noise because Angus looked up with an amused expression. “Easy, faerie. I’ve no intention of cutting through you as well.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t slip.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who slips?”

If he was anything like his cousin, no. And she was certain Donnacha and Angus were related now. If she’d had any doubt, the mischief in his smile would have told her everything she needed to know.

The far darrig bolted the moment he started to saw through her bindings. Elva glared after them, praying she would someday have the time to hunt them down.

“Oh, go easy on them,” Angus said with a laugh. “They were just doing what they were told.”

“Doesn’t mean they had to hogtie me.”

“Would you have come otherwise?”

The moment she was free, she sat up, looking around, rubbing her wrists. This was the entrance to the dwarven kingdom. She’d heard of the great carved warriors standing outside the opening to the giant mine. She’d just never thought it would be so big.

Everything here was beautifully made but roughly hewn. Clearly designed with masculine intent, every bit of this place was terrifying. The dim light, the scowls on the warriors faces as they held swords aloft. Even the dark abyss awaiting her in that hole.

Elva shook her head. “No, probably not.”

“Then I’m afraid you really left me no choice.” Angus held out his hand for her to take. “Here, let me help you.”

As if she was going to touch him that easily. Elva ignored the offered appendage and hopped down from the wooden cart herself. “Thanks.”

He looked down at his hand and then at her. “You’re welcome?”

Elva wiped her hands on her pants. Gods, she didn’t even like the idea of touching him. It instantly made her palms slick with sweat. “What do you want, Angus?”

“Why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable to talk?” He gestured toward the hole in the mountain and reached forward to place his hand on her shoulder blade.

She knew he didn’t mean it to be an aggressive gesture. She knew most people would have taken the assistance with a grain of salt. He was trying to be supportive, to give her a chance to lean on someone after her mistreatment.

But her mind didn’t think like that. Instead, her hand snapped out to meet his, and she yanked his fingers back so hard she felt them pop. “Do not touch me.”

He let out a sound somewhere between gasp and chuckle. “All right then, that’s fine. I just thought you’d like to sit down after that unfortunate journey.”

“The one you ordered to happen.”

“I’ll admit I didn’t expect them to treat you like that—”

“That’s exactly what you expected. Don’t even try to twist your words with me Angus. What do you want?”

He reached out with his free hand and gently pried her off him. Shaking the wounded fingers, he shook his head. “My, but you are a terrifying thing now, aren’t you?”

“I’m not in the mood for games.”

“Neither am I. You were with my cousin, were you not? Donnacha?”

Elva nodded.

“Then I think we both have the same plan. I don’t know what you did to anger the Troll Queen like you did, but she’s most definitely got him now, and that I cannot stand for.”

“Wait,” Elva held up her hand. “The Troll Queen cursed him?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He couldn’t.” Everything made so much more sense now. Of course, it had to be someone like the Troll Queen. That curse hadn’t been entirely intelligent, but it was most certainly effective. The woman had somehow managed to bind Donnacha to herself and then wrapped the curse in whatever safety nets she could.

Efficient, but certainly not the best way to trap someone else.

Elva looked at Angus, then back at the hole in the ground. She really didn’t want to go into the mines. They were dark, and faeries liked to see the sky more than anything else. Sighing, she shook her head and stalked toward the abyss. “Fine, talk while you walk.”

She swore he grumbled, “I don’t understand what he sees in you.”

Ignoring whatever words he had said, she pointed toward their destination. “What do I have to do?”

“Walk?”

“Is there some kind of pulley system to lower us into the ground?”

“No.”

Elva nearly stumbled over a root. “Excuse me? Everyone says the dwarves live underground.”

He shrugged and overtook her. Though his legs were shorter, he was a surprisingly quick little dwarf. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. That’s the entrance to the dwarven kingdom, but I don’t want everyone else to see you. They aren’t particularly fond of Donnacha, and helping him would anger a few people I don’t want to anger.”

“Really?” Elva followed Angus into the bushes and to the side of a stone warrior. “Who’s that?”

Between the feet of the giant sculpture, a small hut stood. A fire burned merrily behind the windows and smoke rose from the brick chimney. Thick logs made up the walls, and a small rocking chair sat outside the dark wood door.

Quaint, really. She might have even liked the home if she wasn’t so upset.

Angus strode to the front door and held it open for her. “There are a lot of dwarves who think someone cursed is beyond our help. We should leave them to their own devices because, if we let them come home, they’ll bring the curse back with them.”

“Not if you break it,” she grumbled as she strode past him.

“Try explaining that to the ancient dwarves, would you? I haven’t had much luck.”

“No, thank you for the opportunity, though.” She’d rather burn off her fingertips. Dwarves were annoying at best, and downright rude at worst.

The interior of the hut was as cute as the outside. Checkered blankets covered a small cot in the corner. Burning logs filled a stone fireplace