Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
MAIA
Maia woke feeling deliciously sore between her legs and far more rested than she had been in ages. She wasn’t sure if that was the ridiculously good sex that had filled her afternoon yesterday, or the deep, dreamless sleep that had followed. Either way, she was grateful for both.
Maybe she could convince her husband to do that again. And soon.
Cheeks burning at the mere thought, she rolled over in bed to see if he was still here. Her fingers danced over a cold pillow and blankets that were wrapped around her body and no one else’s.
A pang of sadness made Maia bite her lip. She hated that it still felt like this. Ragnar was always up earlier. He headed out into the troll kingdom because he was a busy man with lots to do. Considering the trolls had used up a majority of the healing potions yesterday, she was certain he was back in the castle creating more, so he could restore what was needed.
Still, she would have liked one morning to wake up in his arms. Especially after yesterday.
But that was not the life she lived. Sighing, she stretched her entire body in one big heaving movement before she rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Birger likely needed her help today, and she was going to keep herself distracted. No memories of blood were going to dog her steps today. She would keep her mind and hands busy until she couldn’t even see straight. And then, only then, was she going to sit down and maybe consider that what she’d seen had affected her.
As she got ready for the day, dragging on a pale blue dress that wrapped around her in little braids, a faint memory stirred. Not the one she had expected, as she’d been batting away the thought of that soldier with his hands on his belt all morning.
No, she remembered waking up and feeling a tug deep inside of her. A cool shiver had trailed between her shoulder blades, the same way she always felt when Ragnar was using his healing magic on her. But he hadn’t been here then. She even remembered vaguely reaching for him and having her hands come up empty.
When had that happened?
And what had happened?
Frowning, she marched toward the kitchen, only to find that the front door was already opening. Inkeri stepped inside, her lands laden with two cloaks.
“Are you sneaking into my house?” Maia asked, bemused by the other woman’s actions.
The troll woman jumped, before chuckling when she realized Maia was standing there. “Your house, is it? I believe that’s the first time I’ve heard you call it that.”
Maybe it was. She’d always considered this place to be Ragnar’s home. But after last night, the fight, and... everything else that had occurred, it was so much easier to look at this place and feel like it was hers as well.
“A woman can change her mind,” Maia finally replied.
“Especially when she fights like a warrior in battle. The entire city is talking about you, you know.” Inkeri held out the cloak for her to take.
“I didn’t fight that hard—trust me.”
“You fought hard enough that those who came back from the war band were quick to correct anyone speaking ill of the human among us. Did you know that quite a few trolls were claiming you were a spy for the humans? Anyone who says that now is quick to have their mouth closed.”
Which meant the entire city also knew that she had been attacked. Those memories clawed at the back of Maia’s mind, a wolf just like Ragnar had said. This one wanted to hold her in its jaws and shake her hard enough that she saw stars.
“What’s this for?” she asked, gesturing to the offered cloak, but even she could hear the desperation in those words. She needed a distraction, anything, from those memories. Her hand shook when she reached out for it. Even worse, she was pretty sure her voice warbled as well.
“We’re going back to the safety of the troll wives. You deserve to be there, not here alone.”
“I think here is fine. I like being here.” In the dark. By herself. The anxiety and worries could consume her here, and no one would know.
Already she could feel the wolf at the back of her throat. It was like the beast lived inside of her, aware of her terror that it would soon enough rear its ugly head. The more she tried to shove it aside, the more those memories wanted to fight back.
She hardly noticed Inkeri move. But then the woman was right in front of her, draping the cloak over her shoulders. “You cannot stay here. You will come with me, and the others will see to it that you are taken care of.”
“I thought Ragnar might be back soon…?” Even she could hear the hope in those words.
“Ragnar is busy. But we will take care of you, fire hair. Now, keep the hood up, otherwise people are going to recognize you and I don’t think you’re in the mood to talk to anyone right now, are you?”
No, she wasn’t. She didn’t want to talk to anyone who wanted to speak of what had happened just yesterday. She didn’t want to think about it just yet.
Looking at the room that should have been her shelter, she followed Inkeri out onto the street and down the stone paths that would lead to the safest place in this mountain. Along the way, she tried to convince herself this was a good thing. The troll wives would understand what she was going through. At least, she hoped so. They were women as well. Surely they knew what it was like to have experienced… that.
As she walked into the hidden area with Inkeri, all Maia could focus on was that these women might want her to talk about it too. They might push her, thinking it was the right choice, that maybe she needed to talk about it and they were doing the right thing by forcing her.
But she didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Maybe never. Maybe she just wanted to keep it all in her head and let it roll around in there until it was as soft and smooth as a river stone.
There weren’t as many troll wives as there had been before. Some of the elderly troll crones were weaving in the corner, some of them sewing from where they sat on logs that were strategically placed around a warmer fire. A few troll wives were practicing magic in the stream, just as she had seen them doing before. Others were laid out on the grasses on blankets. There were even a few troll wives in the trees, although those women appeared to be picking fruit that were hanging there. Fruit she hadn’t noticed since the first time she’d been here.
One of the troll wives waved at her, calling out, “Maia! We were wondering when you were going to come back.”
She hadn’t... well, she didn’t really think they would notice that she hadn’t returned. There were so many of them, and she wasn’t necessarily wanted. A human in here felt wrong, on some level. But she was appreciative they even remembered her name.
“Come on,” Inkeri said, reaching out to grab her hand. “I know just the thing you need.”
“Inkeri, I really just want to go back to the house and pretend I don’t exist for a while.”
“That won’t help you. But I know what will.”
She didn’t think the other woman did. She wasn’t up to this. Being around people somehow made how she was feeling even worse. The churning nerves in her stomach at being around so many trolls were suddenly impossible to control when she knew that they were looking at her. They knew what had happened, too. A few of them cast pitying glances her way, and she wondered if it showed on her face.
Was it so obvious to see what she had gone through?
The popping of flesh suddenly burst in her mind, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Inkeri glanced over her shoulder at her, tugging her along the edge of the stream and deeper into the woods. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” Maia asked, a little breathless even though they weren’t moving all that fast.
“If you’re going to use your magic, then you can’t be using it in a state where you’re worrying or anxious or afraid. Magic doesn’t work right when you’re like that. So clear your mind.”
“It’s a little hard to do that, considering everything that’s happened,” she muttered.
Inkeri walked her all the way to a soft, mossy area of the glen and then sat her down. The shove would have taken her off her feet regardless of where she was, so Maia was distinctly glad that there even was a soft area for her to fall into.
Letting out a little grunt of displeasure, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at Inkeri.
The troll wife returned her look with a glare that was more terrifying than Maia’s. “Listen to me and listen well. What you went through, what you saw, was something no woman should ever have to deal with. It’s terrifying to know what might have happened, and your mind is going to go down that path whether you want it to or not.”
Inkeri lifted her hand and stopped Maia from speaking.
“You shouldn’t have been there, Maia. That soldier should have known better than to touch you, as well. I know there’s guilt in you. For hurting him. For being there in the first place. For the way that Ragnar likely tore that man apart and then ran with you through the woods. But none of it is your fault.”
Somehow, that hurt to hear. It made every part of her being ache to hear those words, when others were bubbling up inside her mind. Words that her father would have said.
This is your fault.
If you weren’t there, that man might still be alive.
If you hadn’t insisted and gotten yourself caught up in the trolls’ drama, then there would be more humans alive. This was your fault, Maia. No one else.
Swallowing hard, she tried not to let his voice get any louder. Because if Ragnar had named him a wolf, then she didn’t want to give her father any more power than he already had in her mind.
Inkeri watched all these emotions play across her features. The troll wife stared at her with far too much intent before she tsked. “I can see the ghost of someone is still clinging to you. That’s why I brought you here, Maia. You are not alone.”
“I’m very much alone. Half of the trolls still think I’m a spy, the other half are worried I’m going to shatter into a million pieces.” She sighed and looked down at her hands, stretching her fingers as though she didn’t recognize the palms. “I’m not certain that I’m either of those people, but I don’t think they’re wrong, either. They have a reason to fear me. Maybe they should. I saw what my people did to the trolls, and what they would do to so many others if they were given the chance.”
Inkeri crouched in front of her, tipping her chin up with a single finger so Maia had to look at her. “You are not one of them anymore. I’ve wondered about how I could prove that to you, and all I could think was to do this.”
“This?”
Maia watched as the troll grabbed her hands. Inkeri’s fingers were so different from Ragnar’s. Where her husband’s hands were blunt and broad, Inkeri’s were thin and graceful. Her fingers were long and delicate, tipped with sharp claws that were so much smaller and less hooked than the male version of her kind.
But then Inkeri sank both of their hands into the moss, holding onto her fingers gently. “You have green magic. There is much of it here. For centuries, we troll wives have come to the same place and left bits and pieces of our own magic. We let it linger long after we are dead. And there were so many of us, Maia. So many you couldn’t even dream of the number.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered, feeling the wet moss between her fingers and the way it almost thickened at her touch already.
“Because there is nothing any of us can say to make this better. Nothing any of us can do. You don’t want to talk? We respect that. You don’t want to be held or cry with those of us who have suffered similar fate? That is fine as well. You will heal as you wish to heal. But if I can give you anything to help, it is to let you be held in the arms of the ancestors. Even if they cannot touch you physically.”
That sounded... nice. Less terrifying than having to face what had happened to her. At least ancestors weren’t actual people. They weren’t standing in front of her looking at her with pity she wasn’t sure she deserved.
Eyes wide, she gave Inkeri a curt nod. “I think I might like that.”
“Good. All you have to do is let your magic join with theirs.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
Inkeri’s fingers squeezed around hers. “Of course you do. Every troll wife does.”
And just like that, the knowledge seemed to bloom in her head. Because she did know what to do. She knew all the ancestors required was that she use her magic on the moss. Let it seep into the ground around her in bright green sparkles that only she could see, but that fell from her fingers like snow. All that green magic sank into the moss and suddenly, she could feel them.
Her eyes widened even more as her sight disappeared. Inkeri was no longer crouched in front of her. Instead, all she saw was the blooming of flowers and the unfurling of leaves. She could finally, effortlessly breathe. It was like someone had reached into her heart and taken all the stress away from her.
She hadn’t realized how heavy it was.
Maia let out a long, slow sigh. Her shoulders curved forward and she could faintly feel Inkeri propping her up.
“There,” the troll woman’s voice sounded so far away. “Let them guide you, Maia.”
But it didn’t feel like guidance. It felt like someone had taken all her burdens for a little while. Not forever. She knew that soon enough they would hand them back to her. When they did, she would be more ready.
She’d needed a few moments to breathe. Just a few moments where she wasn’t the woman this had all happened to, and instead, she was just herself again.
“I’ll be here with you,” Inkeri said. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be here with you the entire time.”
And something in her soul relaxed at that. She wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to fear.
Maia could just be .