Page 14 of A Darkness So Sweet

He turned to leave, weaving through the trees with the other trolls. They almost made no sound as they moved, leaving her alone with her desolate thoughts.

ChapterSix

RAGNAR

He didn’t like being cruel, but she would have to be tougher to be a troll wife. This creature had barely lasted a few hours on his shoulder before vomiting.

Humans were delicate. He would need to ensure she ate and drank enough water during their travels to keep her alive, but he did not know how much of either she needed. Clearly, she would have different needs than his own kind. Her people were more delicate, softer than the trolls. He wasn’t sure if she could go a full day without food, let alone a week like his own people could.

Regardless, she would need to be capable of significantly more than what he’d seen thus far.

He was... worried. And that feeling didn’t settle well with him. He didn’t want a wife he had to worry about. He’d wanted a sturdy woman who knew how to hunt and fish and all the things she would need to do while he was out in the war bands as their healer. She would need to be able to take care of herself while he was gone. And this little creature?

He doubted she could even bathe herself regularly. She thought it made hersick.

Striding through the trees and toward a clearing nearby, he was pleased to see the rest of the trolls had already started making camp. The black dyed hides were hand stitched with gold threads in runes for protection, good rest, and warnings in case anyone snuck up on them while they were asleep. Among those rune borders were markers for each family. He and Gunnar had the same stitchings on theirs. Twin bears, both of them fighting each other in a great battle until the end of time.

Their father would have been proud to see his family story still on the war tents. After all, it was their great-great grandfather who had found the two bears all those years ago. Their lineage was that of the bear tamer, the troll who had found the bears and brought them home with him.

Gunnar waited for him at their tents, seated outside of one with a fire already started. “You left her in the stream?”

“You saw?”

His brother grinned and shook his head. “The entire campsite is talking about the troll who shoved his wife into the water. We’re taking bets on what she takes in retribution. Your cock or your ears. I bet on the cock.”

If only. Trolls valued a woman who knew how to fight, and troll wives were known to be the fiercest among them.

“My troll wife is meek,” he muttered before ducking into the tent his brother had set up for him.

“What?” His brother’s squawk echoed before Gunnar thundered into the tent after him. “What do you mean, she’s meek?”

“I mean, she’s little more than a ground mouse hidden in a hole. I scolded her, ordered her around, shoved her into a stream, and not a single word. She’s delicate, fragile, everything she should not be.” And that terror was already consuming him.

His brother had done little to set up the tent’s interior. Normally he would have layered plush rugs inside this late in the evening. They would keep her feet warm in the icy wind that always crept through the forest this time of year. He’d have to get those out of the crates, along with the clothing he wanted to bring her.

But none of the bridal clothing he’d made for her would fit. He had spent his entire life learning how to stitch and sew and design clothing that would befit a troll wife, but all of it had been made for a much larger bride. A creature who would have, without a doubt, been his match in every way.

Two crates in the corner held all of his travel gear, and he marched over to them and opened up the one on the right. There were furs there for the bed he would eventually make, and the bridal clothing that he’d brought with him.

Bright baby blue leathers would have made any troll wife hiss a happy sound. He’d taken time to learn how to string pure silver into a thread he stitched into them. The dress was designed to hang off the shoulders of his wife, showing the graceful lines of her neck, which were his favorite part about women. The strong lines of her shoulders would be bare for him to linger on and kiss, to drag his tusks along the muscles there. But the dress was far too large, and the pattern wouldn’t fit her.

His troll wife wouldn’t want to wear anything that told the history of the trolls. She wouldn’t care about the time it had taken him to carefully stitch, line by line, how his people had been born from mud, fur, and scales. How the elves had created them, and how the trolls had freed themselves.

Besides, allowing her to wear such a garment felt like a denial of the bride who should have been. Sighing, he reached beyond the beautiful blue fabric to grab one of his own shirts. It was plain cotton, but it would have to do for now.

Standing, he turned to face his brother’s frown.

“What now?” Ragnar snarled.

“You would give her that to wear?”

“What else should I give her? I didn’t have enough time to stitch her anything else. The bridal wear was made for a troll, brother. She’s hardly the size of our children, let alone a full grown troll wife.”

There it was again. More anxiety. More nerves churning in his belly because she was so much smaller than he’d expected. Would she even be able to keep up with them? Would he be forced to carry her for the rest of their days? What would he do when he was older and incapable of carrying her such a great distance?

Gunnar clapped his hand on his shoulder, giving Ragnar a little shake. “She deserves the honor of any troll wife. I know you’re struggling with this, brother. But it will look bad in the eyes of our people.”

For her to be covered in little more than cotton? Of course it would. The entire camp would think he was ashamed of her, but what else could he do?

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