Chapter 2 #2
It was cold, clear water. Crisp as a mountain spring, fresh as the first snow melting from the peaks.
He drained the cup that she offered, desperate for the relief of water that wasn’t collected from condensation in his room or dirtied by the hands of so many other fighters in the labyrinth that it was more mud than liquid.
Then a hand. A chilly hand pressed against his cheek as she took the cup away. “I’m sorry they’ve done this to you. You deserve better.”
“It is my life, bright one.” His breathing was ragged even to his own ears. The common tongue. So he did remember it after all.
He could see clearly again. No more red. No more anger. Just her. He could see the difference from the princess now. This woman had hollows under her eyes, and her gaze wasn’t icy blue but more cerulean, like a calm lake on a quiet day. Her hair wasn’t the color of gold, but more like wheat.
Her soft expression wasn’t one that he’d ever seen on the princess’s features; he knew that. He’d met that witch a few times, and she enjoyed watching other’s pain, just like her father. This woman, though... Her eyes were so blue, he could feel himself drowning.
Harwick’s voice laughed, breaking through the small bubble of peace. “Look at how she toys with him! Tolly, you’ve trained her well. A priestess like that should know how to make a monster bend a knee. We could probably release him, and she’d have him wrapped right around her finger.”
“Well, you know my priestesses are always the best.”
Bjorn didn’t care to pay attention to these men. He had eyes only for the woman dripping in pearls.
“Priestess?” he asked.
“That is what they call me.”
“Why?”
Then he could feel it. The slightest pulse of magic at her touch, as her fingers slid away from his jaw, and then the magic disappeared. “That is why.”
His anger nearly came back. He could still feel the remnants of her spell, a lingering calm that she had pushed into his body without his permission.
But it was more than that. She had sought out the calm within him, the man who wanted to be in control, and she’d simply pulled that emotion to the front of his mind.
“What are you?” he asked again.
“They call us priestesses, but that is not something you need concern yourself with.” She leaned a little closer, as though proving to the people surrounding them that she wasn’t afraid of him.
But then her voice, that quiet voice that was so hard to hear, murmured, “Are there other trolls looking for you?”
His entire body stiffened. He clutched the chains above him again, holding on to them harder. The sound of his squelching blood reached his ears, and he jerked the chains forward even more.
“Speak nothing of what you know,” he snarled. It was a warning that she needed to adhere to.
The people in this room would kill her if they thought for even a second that she was working with the trolls who had escaped. Bjorn was chained up. He could do nothing to help her if they all turned on this priestess, who was far too brave for her own good.
But she merely smiled at him, the barest ghost of a smile, before turning back to the men behind her. She said nothing, but her “lord,” as she called him, turned to Harwick and said, “What was it you wished for her to do? Calm the beast? He seems very calm now, Harwick.”
Harwick snorted. “Yes, it is rather easy for a pretty woman to do that. Especially a priestess of her breeding. Come, Tolly. There is much for us to talk about, and I don’t wish to do it here.”
Bjorn watched them walk away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman decorated in pearls. She was so beautiful. So light in this dark place. What was she doing here?
Another woman approached him, this one done up in fabric that had far too many colors. Her face looked... odd. As though there were a layer of something on top of it, garishly painting her features with vivid colors.
“Keep your eyes away from that one, troll. The king doesn’t take kindly to anyone looking at his priestesses, let alone one such as yourself.”
He blinked, words coming back to him as naturally as they had with the priestess. “Who are the priestesses to the king?”
“Mimics of his daughter. Women who would be as powerful as her, stolen right out of their beds as children. They are pitiful things with more power in their right pinky than most of us have.” The woman sniffed.
“Decorated dolls, used as secret keepers for the rich and famous of our kingdom. Sad to see, really. They have no life, no future, just the knowledge that they must serve. But don’t stare at them.
No one can even speak to them except their master and others like themselves.
They’ll take your eyes and tongue for such a thing. ”
They could do that, but he didn’t think they would. Bjorn was their strongest warrior, and the king had use for him. Besides, no one had said a word when he’d spoken to her just moments ago.
He kept his gaze on her regardless, watching as she walked across the room and through a door. He was left alone, facing these women and men as they crowded him once more.
The priestess might have left, but the calmness she had brought to him stayed.