Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
RAGNAR
They stayed in the illuminated glen for hours on end. Partially because Ragnar thought she needed the time to recuperate, and partly because he wasn’t done with her yet. While he needed time to recover, she did not. And he was all too obliged to help her forget what had happened.
For hours, he learned every bit of her body. He found the spots that made her jerk away from him with a laugh—the hollow of her spine and the back of her neck. He found the spots that made her moan and shudder—the small of her back and the valley between her breasts. He discovered everything he could do to make her so wet she was dripping down his hand, and then some. There was more he wanted to do.
But eventually, she could barely even talk. The poor thing was limp and pliable as he arranged her in his arms. He’d drawn her into a hot spring, taking care with her sensitive skin even as she laid her head against his shoulder.
“Look at the mess I’ve made of you,” he murmured, drawing her back to his chest so he could play his fingers over her breasts. “You look so perfect like this.”
“Ragnar,” she whispered, attempting to shake her head. “I can’t. No more.”
“Just one more.”
“I can’t.”
He wasn’t listening to her begging. He just needed to hear her come apart one last time, and then he would let her rest. Even though Maia whimpered when his hands slid down her front and sank between her thighs, he found her ready and willing there. She was so swollen, so sensitive, that the merest brush of his fingers against her skin had her groaning.
All it took was a few brushes of his fingers over that sensitive clit of hers and she was crying out in his ear. Hours of this apparently made her so sensitive that sending her over the edge took so little.
“Sweet wife,” he murmured, brushing her wet hair back from her face. “So perfect for me. Last one. I promise.”
She was a panting mess against his neck and he’d never seen anything prettier. This was what he had wanted. This was what he had needed since the moment he’d decided she was his: Hours to dedicate to her pleasure and her pleasure alone.
Hours for him to solidify that she wanted him, and against all odds, he wanted her too.
Ragnar held her a little tighter, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing. He wanted to breathe her in for a little while longer, but also knew that he needed to get her home.
She whimpered slightly, turning her head into his neck and going even more limp.
“You need a bed,” he murmured against her neck, moving to carry her out of the water. “Do you want to sleep, fire hair?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“I’ll bring you to bed, then. Tuck you in and make sure nothing touches your dreams. How’s that sound?”
But she was already asleep in his arms. Sighing, he set her down on the warm moss for a few moments so he could yank his clothing on, and then helped get her dressed. She was grumpy while he did it, half asleep and making little noises of displeasure as he pulled her dress over her head and moved her arms into the right position. Adorable.
Everything about her was so soft and delicate, and he couldn’t believe that he’d once thought that would be a problem. When he’d first looked at her, all he could see was a tiny person who would need his protection. But now?
“Your bravery never ceases to amaze me,” he murmured as he gathered her up in his arms and started toward their home.
Not just in the battle or how she’d fought that soldier off, but in taking him all the way. He could only imagine that it had been terrifying for her. Looking at a fully grown, massive troll and expecting anything to happen between them had to be madness on her part. Yet she’d done it.
More than once now.
And fuck if he wasn’t the luckiest man in the realm right now. Because his bride wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and there was nothing standing in their way now. Nothing between them. She’d fought at his side and maybe it was just the high after spending hours between her thighs, but he had more hope than he’d had in a long time.
Their future was looking brighter and brighter. With that thought, he said nothing else as his troll wife fell asleep in his arms and he carried her home. She was warm and pliable in his grip, easy to carry but also a reminder of all the precious things he had to be thankful for.
Ragnar returned her to their home safely and quietly. A few trolls gave them strange expressions. Furrowed brows and pursed lips were abound, but no one stopped them. And when he settled her on the bed, he brushed her hair back from her face and blew out a long, relieved sigh. They were home. They were safe.
Here he could keep her until the very end of time. No one would find her here, and no one would dare even touch her without knowing they would answer to him.
Ragnar went out into the parlor for another blanket and then heard a knock on his front door. A quiet one. Like the person on the other side knew they were disturbing him and his troll wife, who desperately needed her rest.
Frowning, he headed over, ready to tell off whoever was on the other side. His bride needed rest . After everything she had seen and gone through, the trolls could at least give her that.
But when he threw open the door, he sighed in defeat. The official messenger of King Egil stood on the other side, clearly not pleased to be here either.
“The king has requested you,” she said, apologies in every word. “I know you would rather be here right now, Ragnar. And truth be told, I’d rather you stay here as well.”
“But the king waits for no one.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
He cast one glance behind his shoulder, but Maia wasn’t going to wake any time soon. He’d made sure of that. His wife would sleep for hours on end, and deeply after what he’d done to her.
Grinding his teeth, he gave up the thought of crawling into bed with her and resting. But he wasn’t going to leave her alone. Not again. So he held up a finger to the king’s messenger, and returned to his bedroom.
Bracing a knee on the bed, he brushed her hair away from her face and murmured, “Someone is here.”
“Come back to bed,” she breathed.
“I can’t, fire hair.”
As much as he wanted to join her, he knew better than to ignore the king. He left her cozy in his bed, closing the door behind him and joining the king’s messenger on the long walk to the castle.
Once there, he headed to the throne room, where he knew the king waited for him. What he wasn’t expecting was to find the room full with all the generals and warlords who had been fighting in the town. They all watched him enter, a few of them wearing guarded expressions that he couldn’t quite make out.
At least, until he stood next to Gunnar who seemed much better. Clearly the king’s healers had seen to him, still, Ragnar immediately asked, “How’s that wound?”
“Magic can fix a lot of things.”
“And?”
Gunnar sighed. “And it still hurts like I ran straight into a boar, but I will be fine. The healers sent me home with plenty of your healing potions, and a strict order to rest.”
“Good.” Ragnar crossed his arms over his chest and left it at that. If the healers thought he was well, then he had to be well enough to be standing here.
His brother cleared his throat. “She is well?”
He glanced around to see every other troll in the room watching them. Waiting for his answer.
“How fickle you all are,” he muttered. “Just mere days ago, you were reminding me that she could be a spy.”
Gorm grumbled under his breath, “She could still be a spy.”
But the general was silenced rather quickly by a few of the other trolls next to him. “She wouldn’t have healed our people if she were a spy.”
“Even if she would have healed them, my cousin said she held his hand through the entire thing and then tucked him in,” another added. “That’s not acting.”
“She stabbed that human in the thigh. Right through it. I saw her from the battlefield, and that was real terror afterward.” The female troll who said the words then crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “You don’t pretend to be affected like that after a male attacks you.”
Watching trolls stand up for Maia warmed his heart, but also infuriated him to no end. Where was this support only days ago? Why did she have to suffer for them to see her worth? Rather than encouraging their behavior, he turned his attention to the king.
Their leader wasn’t sitting on his throne. Instead, he sat on the floor in front of it, his legs hanging down the stairs and his crown in his hands. Perhaps all the other trolls were focusing on Ragnar, because the sight before them was hard to look at.
Finally, King Egil sighed and looked up. He met each and every one of their gazes slowly, as though he knew this was a terrible burden for any of them to bear.
“The mountain will never be ours until we can prove to them that we can keep it,” the king started. “And I know many of you would fight to your last breath to prove that this land will not be under human control. But we do not know why they fight so fiercely for it.”
“It’s hatred for our people,” Gunnar snarled. “They don’t care a mite for this mountain. All they care about is that it’s not currently theirs, and that we have it.”
A few trolls grumbled in agreement.
But it didn’t sit right with Ragnar. There had to be more to it than just a blind hatred. King James was too cunning for that. At least, that was what he’d seen so far.
“Why send scouts to our home?” he asked. “If it’s blind hatred, they would just chip away at us. One by one. Instead, they seek out entrances to our home, strategically sealing us inside of the mountain. Why?”
“That is precisely why I think we need to figure out a new way to attack the humans. We need to understand what the human king wants,” Egil replied. He rotated the crown in his hands, his fingers finding each gemstone that symbolized every king before him.
Ragnar used to wonder if holding a crown like that ever made the king feel less than what he was. It was a reminder of the heaviness each king carried who had come before him, all of those who had made a name for themselves and earned those gems on the crown. They were impressive beasts of their own. Men and women who had earned the title of king and ruled the mountain for ages.
All of them were Egil’s family, a bloodline that flowed through his own veins.
The king set the crown on the stone next to him and then laced his fingers together. “There are few things we know about the humans. Getting into the castle has been next to impossible. The only option we have is to trust those currently within our ranks and hope they do not betray us.”
Of course, they would trust each other. Ragnar would give his life for his brother standing next to him, and he knew many other trolls shared the same opinion. There were few who weren’t willing to risk their lives for the trolls who would do the same for them.
The king took a deep breath. “Ragnar. Tell me about your wife.”
“She is not a spy.”
“I think we all know that by now. There are some who will fight against the truth, as they have no desire to believe that humans are capable of being something else. What I want to know is how your bond has grown.” The king laced his fingers together, the knuckles turning white with some unnamed emotion. “I promised you a more powerful troll wife to build your lineage and your power. For that, I am still sorry. But if this wife is yours is who you choose, then I would know this works.”
“I’m sorry, my king.” Ragnar shook his head in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
“Humans and trolls have rarely been together. The humans we have caught before, the ones who have given their blood and their bodies to create stronger troll lineages… those women were caught unwillingly. Their magic was locked in their bodies. Husbands were unable to force that magic out of them, although their children were stronger for it. I want to know if it is true that you can use her magic and she can use yours.”
All eyes were on him, and Ragnar realized this had always been about more than an alliance. The king had wanted to know if the magic between mates could spread. If...
Ragnar breathed out a long sigh. “You want to know if you can make trolls more powerful now if there are more willing brides.”
“That’s precisely what I want to know.”
Of course. All of this made sense. The king hadn’t sent him just to get a bride. This had been a test to see if he could make trolls even more of a formidable enemy.
“Surely you’ve heard me say that my magic is stronger with her,” Ragnar tried to say.
“When touching, yes. That is the same as what we expected. We can pull magic out of even unwilling brides through touch. But I want to know if you can use it right now.” The king’s gaze sharpened, that hawk gaze of his even more intimidating than ever before. “If it’s a true bond, like a troll and his troll wife should be, then you can use her magic now. You can pull upon it without her being her. Shape it and use it in ways you wouldn’t have been able to before. An unwilling bride can amplify the magic of her husband. A willing one, it is said, can share her power entirely.”
“None of this was told to me before—” he tried to say.
“Then I’m telling you now. You have white healing magic, like ice on a cold winter’s day. But her magic is green. I have heard from Birger that she is impressive in the gardens, and that plants grow no matter what she does. If you can do that, if you can pull on her magic, then we can know for certain none of this was a waste. We could make an army of trolls not limited by their own magic, but wielding dual weapons.”
Of course, it wasn’t a waste.
He’d found his wife. A true troll wife. A woman who would stand by him until the end of time and who he was so proud to be tied to. His entire soul burned for her, even when he was far from her side.
Gunnar nudged him. “You need to try, brother.”
“She’s sleeping. What if she can feel what I’m doing?”
“Then you’ll have to wake her for this small amount of time. She probably won’t even notice it.” Gunnar gave him another nudge, this one harder and more insistent. “You can’t deny the king’s direct order.”
He could. He wanted to. Ragnar knew it would end with him being forced to leave this place, though. The trolls would escort both him and Maia out of this mountain, and they would lose...
Everything. Everything he had promised her. Everything they had built together. All of that would disappear because he wasn’t willing to wake her after a long day.
Sighing, he nodded. “I will try, my king. But I make no promises.”
“That is all I ask.”
Ragnar remembered when he’d first been taught how to use his magic. His mother had been the one to teach him, considering healing magic had been her specialty. And it was her voice he heard in his head as he reached for the well of magic that existed inside of him.
Every magic feels different. Some of them are tastes, some are smells, some are sensations. Her hand had landed on his shoulder, squeezing gently before her claws had trailed light as a feather across his skin. Healing magic is a sensation. Ours is cold—colder than you’d imagine. Those icy tendrils are what you need to focus on, my son. Convince them to move through your body, out of your body, and reach for all those who surround you. They need to find those who desire help.
But what would green magic be like?
He tried to sense it at first. Perhaps the smell of earth and loam would do it. But every time he conjured up the scent of a garden, nothing happened. No magic burned at his fingertips. Perhaps the sight of it? He pictured Maia standing among the tomatoes with dirt smeared on her cheek and that wild smile on her face.
Still nothing.
He could hear the grumbles of the trolls around him, all of them clearly believing that this experiment of their king’s had failed. One last try—that was all he could think to do.
And there it was. The burst of basil on his tongue and the strange sensation of something foreign in his mind. Then she uncoiled, blooming like the tiniest of seeds through a link between the two of them that he hadn’t realized was there. Maia’s magic stretched its roots within his own, and Ragnar lifted his hand.
Someone—Gunnar, he thought—placed a tiny seed on his palm. He could sense the magic in it. The power. The life that wanted to burst free if he would let it.
So he did.
Unlike healing magic, there was no guidance in this. He just gave the seed the spark, and the plant did the rest.
By the time he’d opened his eyes, a tiny seedling had sprouted on his palm. The little roots already dangled free from the edge of his hand, and the bright green leaves were as beautiful as they were delicate.
“Magnificent,” King Egil breathed. “And there’s our proof. Now, I need you all to join me on this plan, because it is a risk. I do truly believe, however, that if we wish to beat this king, first we will need to find all the human women who are willing and make ourselves a stronger enemy.”
The murmur of agreement from Ragnar’s brethren made something in his stomach twist. And when he looked at Gunnar, he could see his brother felt the same.
The winds of change blew through the throne room, and Ragnar wasn’t sure if that was good or not.