“Who goes there?” Her voice floated through the darkness.
“No one,” he replied, stepping closer in the dim light.
“The master of this castle said no one else lived within these walls.” Again, she shifted. Sitting up on the side of the bed perhaps? “I apologize if these are your quarters.”
“They aren’t.” He stepped forward, his eyes adjusting to the darkness until he could see the shape of her moving. “Please, stay.”
He could see the silhouette of her arm braced against the side of the bed. The muscular length of it was so graceful. A long curtain of hair fell in front, or perhaps behind, slowly shifting forward like the dress of a dancer as she moved.
Fortunately, she couldn’t see in the dark like he could. Dwarves were born in dim light, they lived in the mines and, thus, their eyes saw more than the average person. Where she likely only saw darkness, he saw details as if a full moon shown upon them.
“I’m afraid that isn’t a sufficient answer for me,” she snarled.
The ringing of metal against metal was his only warning to flinch backward as she drew her sword. As it was, the point still rested against the base of his throat. Cold, it sank beneath his skin just enough for a bead of blood to well up and drip down the blade.
Her hand tightened on the leather grip. “Start talking.”
“I’m not here to hurt you, merely to lay with you.”
She choked out a laugh. “I can assure you that’s not going to happen.”
“Not like that!” Donnacha tried to stop his thoughts from running away from him. Laying with her would be…an experience he wasn’t likely to forget ever. Shaking his head, he stepped back from the sword she kept raised in the air. “Look, I can’t explain. It’s part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
“You staying here with the bear. I can’t leave this room, and neither can you. I’m not asking for anything other than for you to share the bed with me. We can put up a blockade of pillows if that helps you to trust me—”
“Trust you?” she interrupted, her words sharp. “What reason do I have to trust you at all? You, who has appeared out of the shadows in my room, sneaking through the ice walls like a wraith here to kill me.”
“I’m not here to hurt you.” He raised his hands even though she couldn’t see them.
“They all say that,” she muttered, but lowered the sword.
“Who?”
“Men,” she spat at him. “They say they don’t want to hurt you, but then they do it anyway. It’s not your fault that your sex only knows how to leave marks that bruise.”
His heart caught in his throat. This woman had been hurt. He didn’t know how or why, but he intended to find out someday. “Those are not men,” he replied.
“Then, please, enlighten me to what they are. Explain it to me, so that I might understand what truly happened to my body.”
“You misunderstand me.” Donnacha shook his head. “If a person says they won’t hurt you and then do, it makes them a monster, a beast in the night to be hunted with sword or bow. I hope you cut off the hands of anyone who touched you without permission. And if they still walk with such hands, then I ask you tell me where to find them, so I might gift them to you on a golden platter. But those are not men. Those are not people, only animals who deserve no better treatment.”
She remained silent for a moment, her breathing ragged but her silhouette still as stone. Finally, she made a soft sound of disbelief. “Pretty words, stranger. Tis a shame they aren’t anything more than poetry.”
He watched her sheath the sword and settle back into the furs. Did that mean he was allowed to join her? He didn’t want to end his life by enjoying only a few moments as a dwarf before a wounded woman put a blade through him.
But he also didn’t want to push her too far. She deserved more than some strange man appearing in her room and forcing her to…what? To tolerate his company?
The Troll Queen was truly more vicious than he thought. She must have known this woman was a wounded soul. And what person would put another through something like this? To force this woman to endure his presence when she was clearly afraid, trying to protect herself. This was worse than he ever imagined the Troll Queen could do.
He sat at the foot of the bed, tilting his head to the side and watching her over his shoulder. “I wish I could leave you. It’s not by choice that I am here, and I would have you know that if I did have a choice, I would bid you good night.”
“I understand not having a choice, stranger. If you touch me, know that I will remove that hand.”
“Understood.” He smiled. She’d taken his advice to heart then. Good, it was the dwarven way to show man or woman what happened when they touched things that weren’t theirs.
Silence fell in the room. It wouldn’t be so bad to spend a night like this, he decided. The air was cold and his feet were already going numb, but he was still a dwarf. How could he sleep at a time like this? When he finally was himself again?
Donnacha flexed his toes and grinned. They moved like normal feet! Not pads or paws, but feet with toes and tiny toenails that he’d have to look at with light tomorrow night before he had to come back here. His arms and shoulders felt frosted to the touch, and a shiver shook through him.
A shiver.
When was the
