Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
RAGNAR
Ragnar knelt before his king with the other trolls who had been taken by the humans, each of them waiting for their leader to release them. They wanted to return to the labyrinth. King James had done too much with this transgression, and they wished to fight.
In his opinion, it wasn’t that much to ask. They wished to avenge all those who had been killed, tortured, and maimed. But the king seemed very much against going into battle yet again.
The trolls had lost a great amount of their people. Not to mention there was the significant fear that they would get captured again. It was hard enough to understand that there were trolls in a labyrinth being forced to fight. Let alone the sheer numbers of trolls who had died within those winding walls. This horror was all a reminder of their failures, and that would affect their king more than anyone else.
But Ragnar would not kneel here and wait for permission. Not when he had promised Bjorn that he would return. Tilting his head up, he looked his king in the eyes and held his gaze.
The others kept their heads down. They were terrified of what the outcome would be. Some of them didn’t want to go back into battle. Many of them hadn’t yet dealt with the memory of what they had endured. Even more of them were still feeling the effects of what they had seen. He knew that would all take time.
Returning to the labyrinth seemed like madness, but his king had to know that Ragnar would not rest. He wouldn’t let Bjorn remain there when the other male had potentially given his life to get them out. The human king would not allow that heroic act to go without punishment, and they all knew that.
“Everyone out,” the king said. “Ragnar, stay with me, if you don’t mind.”
Gunnar gave him a look on the way out. He knew his brother was trying to tell him to behave himself. The king was just as raw as the rest of them. They’d all failed in this.
King Egil took a deep, steadying breath. “You think we should go back.”
“I do.”
“Give me a good reason.”
“We cannot leave the trolls there. They’re our people. We’ve fought too hard for all our people to be safe, and now the battle is only going to get worse. To leave them there would be to go against everything we fight for.” Ragnar pressed a hand to his chest. “I know it’s personal for me. Bjorn is an old friend, but he also saved our lives. Without him, none of us would have gotten out of that place.”
The king rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I cannot risk more of our people. With the humans attacking regularly now, we’re already spread thin, having our scouts watching over each entrance into this mountain. We’re closing off passages, but that will take time.”
“I can’t leave him there.”
Suddenly appearing tired and every year of his age, the king slumped forward on his throne. “There is an option. My son has been... absent for a long time. I sent him away to another troll clan far from this kingdom in case there was ever an attack on us. I have known for a very long time that the tensions between us and the humans were only going to get worse, Ragnar. But I do know that something must be done.”
“You would have the prince return?” he asked, stunned by this revelation. “We all know how important he is to the royal bloodline. He should remain where he is.”
“He’s not a child. He’s a grown man these days, and from what I've heard, the exact thing we have all been hoping for. The closest we’ve ever been to a new future.”
Every part of him froze. A new future? Surely the king did not mean they had finally, after all of these years, become what they had so desired?
“What is he?” Ragnar found himself asking, his voice shaking a bit with fear.
“I do not know what to call him yet. Only that there is so much hope for the child he and his future wife would bear. But I need to find him a bride who is half elf. Their child would then be more elf than troll, and that...” The king blew out a long breath. “That is the struggle. But this has been years of royal bloodlines bringing us here. Years upon years of searching for the right brides and ensuring that our line remained true. I cannot risk all of that to attack a kingdom who keeps our people hidden away from our eyes. Surely you understand?”
Of course he did. He knew that there were bigger things in this realm than his friend, who had given up hope. He’d seen the loss in Bjorn’s eyes. He’d known that there was a chance his friend wouldn’t even be alive when Ragnar returned for him, but he had to still try.
Ragnar looked at his king, feeling the hopelessness of the situation grow between them. “I can’t leave him there.”
“I know you can’t. But there is only so much I can do. We need you here, Ragnar. We need you to provide assistance when they attack us, because you know they are going to attack very soon.”
“I might be able to help.” A voice interrupted them, followed by a very familiar cursing voice.
Frowning, Ragnar turned to see the doors had cracked open as a young woman darted through the small part. She was prettier than he remembered, but he’d set her leg rather quickly after she’d been mostly hidden underneath Gunnar’s blankets. She hadn’t wanted him to look at her, let alone touch her. And yet, she’d managed with the healing well enough.
Now, Gunnar’s Rose was pretty. Her hair was a surprisingly light shade of blonde, her face smooth and cheeks bright pink. She was painfully emaciated, but she moved with a grace that he hadn’t expected from a young woman who had gone through so much.
His brother charged after her, apologies already dripping from his lips. “I’m sorry, my king. I didn’t realize she was at the door, or I never would have let her listen in.”
King Egil lifted his hand for silence. “If she thinks she can help us, then let her speak. Who are you?”
Rose marched up beside Ragnar, pretending bravery because he could see her shaking. The scent of her fear was a cloying acid burning in his nose. But she stood there still, shoulders squared as she looked up at their king.
“My name is Rose, your highness. I was in the labyrinth as a prize for those who remained alive. I was there for over six months.”
The king’s brows rose. “Six months?”
“Yes.”
“And how often were you... given as a prize?”
“At least once a week. Sometimes more than that, depending on when the king got bored.”
Ragnar winced. He had no idea what this woman had gone through, but he could guess that it would scar her for the rest of her life. Being here would help heal her, but not for a long time yet.
The king spat on the ground at the words. “Barbarians. Your people did you great harm. You are welcome here for as long as you wish it, to heal and to take the time you need. Now, you said you may be able to help us?”
Rose swallowed hard. “My sister, your highness. I come from a very long line of women who serve the king directly. There are many of us. Priestesses, is what he calls us, but we are anything but holy. Our order is used as a way to control all the nobility in the kingdom. Once we prove ourselves worthy, we’re given to one of the noblemen to aid them in all manners of the court.”
“A courtesan?” the troll king asked.
“No, your highness. A spy.” Rose shuffled her feet on the ground, seemingly uncomfortable with what she was about to say. “The priestesses are trained to do whatever it takes to get information to the king, and they are very good at it. Some of them are courtesans, but most are trusted advisors who were gifted to help the nobility manage... all the things nobles do in this kingdom that they shouldn’t be doing.”
“And your sister can help us?”
“I think she can. We were very close, you see. When I was taken, she promised to do whatever she could to get me out.” Again, Rose seemed uncomfortable with what she said. “Perhaps you can use that to your advantage.”
Gunnar stepped up beside her, leaning around Rose’s body to look down at her. “What are you suggesting?”
Ragnar knew exactly what she was suggesting. “You want us to negotiate with your sister? We could let her know we have you, and that we won’t give you back unless she helps us get Bjorn and the others out.”
Rose nodded. “It’s a good option. Better than going in and trying to fight your way out. The opening that the troll created for us, that’ll be gone by the time we get back. The king won’t make that mistake twice. You’re going into a hornet’s nest, but it’s full of traps for you. My sister can get in, though. Her noble is one of the men who runs the entire place.”
Standing, the king walked down the stairs and stood right in front of the young woman. She was so small compared to their king. Barely coming up to his chest, and she shook like a leaf. He leaned too close to her, obviously trying to intimidate her.
“Why should we trust you?” the king murmured.
Even though she was clearly terrified, Rose didn’t back down. Instead, she opened her mouth and quietly said, “Because you got me out of there. I owe you my life. If I can help those who were in there with me, then maybe some of the nightmares will stop.”
Nightmares. That was something Ragnar knew about. Maia had been having them as well. He knew she hadn’t been subjected to the same thing this woman had, namely because she’d been given to Bjorn over and over. But he couldn’t imagine that had been easy, either. Bjorn was a barely leashed monster of rage. He’d caught wind from other prisoners that Bjorn was known to kill the women he was given.
It wouldn’t be easy for Rose’s sister to get to him.
But when Ragnar looked at the king, he already knew the answer. This was the only way they could even try to get the other trolls out without risking their own home. There were too few warriors here already. They needed to gather in Trollveggen, lick their wounds, and start again.
The king nodded. “I will send for my son, and you will get us all the information we need about your sister. The scouts should be able to find her easily enough, and we’ll leave her all the information she needs. I will not stand for any more innocent bloodshed of our people. If you are leading us into a trap, I will personally take your head myself.”
Rose nodded, but it didn’t escape his notice that Gunnar seemed a little flustered by what the king had said. Even as their ruler turned to head back to his throne, Gunnar’s hand curled perhaps a little possessively around Rose’s arm before he tugged her back to the door.
The three of them headed out of the castle, and Ragnar waited a while before he said, “Would you like to come back to our house? We’ll have dinner together.”
Gunnar obviously didn’t want to do that. His brother was still angry at what the king had said, and that was surprising. Gunnar didn’t respond like this to any woman, at least, not that Ragnar had ever seen. But Rose looked up at Ragnar with hopeful eyes, and he knew his brother would give in.
“Would it be too much of an imposition? I would like to see Maia.”
He grinned. “I’m sure you would enjoy spending time with another human. How long has it been? A week?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Rose replied. “There isn’t a sun here. I can’t tell how long it has been since I’ve been here.”
Gunnar shouldered him aside and started walking to their house with Rose in front of him. The space he made between Ragnar and her was ridiculous. Still, he hadn’t seen his brother this upset over a woman before and it had Ragnar grinning as he followed them.
“It’s been a week,” his brother grumbled. “You know how long it’s been. I wake you up and tell you every morning.”
“Oh. I just don’t remember—that’s all.”
“I try to make sure you know exactly how long it’s been and where you are,” Gunnar said as they reached Ragnar’s home. “I take care of you.”
“You do!”
What an adorable conversation he was listening to. Ragnar didn’t even try to get ahead of them. He just let his brother lead the little woman up to their front door and push it open like he owned the place. Which, in the eyes of the king, Gunnar technically did, most likely. But that was a bridge they would cross later.
All three of them strode into the house that was filled with the scent of fresh baked bread and some sweet thing that had gone into the oven recently. While he’d been gone, Rota, Inkeri, and Hulda had taken time to put the entire house back together. His couch and chairs were plush again. The rugs were perfectly clean, and no stones remained. Although his ceiling now had a massive chunk taken out of it, the women had convinced the wisps to gather up there like a dripping chandelier.
“Stay here,” he said as he headed toward the kitchen. “We’ll bring the food out to you.”
He wanted to give them a few moments to themselves, but also, he wanted to see his wonderful troll wife.
Maia was in the kitchen puttering away, making the bread that she was so good at and leaving the rest for him to cook. Ragnar had learned recently that while his wife was an incredible baker, absolutely anything else she made was so overly cooked that it was burnt to a crisp. After a few meals like that, he’d taken over cooking the meat and she could manage the desserts.
He caged her in his arms, reveling in the tiny squeak she made before spinning around to press her back against the countertop. “Ragnar!” she scolded. “I’m just finishing up.”
“I know you are.” He lifted her fingers and licked the sugar off them. “But I wanted a few moments with my wife.”
“You can get those moments when I’m done.”
“How long until the pie is finished?”
She blinked up at him. “I’m not sure. Likely ten minutes or so. Why?”
He tilted his head to the side, measuring the time before grinning down at her. He grabbed her waist and lifted her up onto the counter, just like he had all those weeks ago. “It’s a challenge I’m willing to take.”
Tossing her skirts up, he bit the inside of her thigh. But when she moaned, he tsked, “We have company, wife. Keep yourself quiet if you can.”
“We have company?”
“The door’s closed. Now stay quiet, fire hair. I want to have dessert before dinner.”
Before agreeing to marry her, he hadn’t known how easy life would be with her in it. Not because she cooked or cleaned, but because he could indulge every sense in her for hours on end if he wanted. And because moments like this, where the both of them were giggling and laughing, trying to remain quiet while they sought out pleasure as well, were sparks of light in his life.
Even if the pie ended up burnt.