Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Astrid
Astrid tried to keep her breathing regulated until they made it to his mother’s home.
Ylva’s house was apparently a cottage just like the others, although it seemed to have been in this grotto for much longer.
The trees just beyond had dipped down, their leaves giving her home a rather lofted looking roof, even though Astrid could tell that wasn’t part of the home at all.
Rather than the prominent crystals that had so far decorated this place, Ylva’s home had gleaming stones laid beside the rock path. It was pretty. Sparkling. The mark of a woman who lived on her own and who enjoyed delicate things. Not entirely what Astrid had thought she would find in this place.
And still, her mind went right back to Bjorn losing himself when the crowd of people had approached him.
She could see his emotions in streaks of color that rioted around him.
For a moment, all she had seen was a cloud of red that created a haze between him and the others.
She’d known he was angry, far more than she could ever have guessed he would be.
Then sickly yellow beams had burst through the red. Shame, she had realized at the moment.
He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to scare people. But he also needed time, and they weren’t respecting that.
Ten years of torment and fighting and anger had turned him into the man he was now. She feared most people here would want him to be the same person they remembered from the last time he had left. The carefree young man she had heard of, and the man he claimed to have been.
There wasn’t a hint of that person left in him. The hopeful young man who had left here carrying a warrior’s dream had been beaten into the blood and mud of the labyrinth and left there so this version of Bjorn could rise.
He stalked up to his mother’s house, red still bursting free from his skin every now and then. He jerked the door open and gestured for Astrid. “Inside, bright one.”
Even now, she didn’t think the anger was directed at her. He’d given her no reason to fear him, although she likely should. So she walked past him, but paused as his emotions reached out for her.
She didn’t know what they wanted. But they were actually reaching. She could almost see the fingers and claws attached to them, stretching out toward her.
What was she meant to do? She reached back.
Astrid touched a finger to his anger, shocked as she registered the heat of it on her fingers.
She’d never thought of emotions as touchable.
But it was so very warm, and it wanted to yank on her hand.
When she tugged back, it seemed to follow her, detaching from him for the briefest moment.
His hand wrapped around her wrist, his grip punishing. “I didn’t give you permission to take them from me, Astrid.”
She blinked, stunned out of her trance only to realize what she was doing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t realize what I was doing.”
“Give it back.”
Oh gods, the emotion was still clinging to her. She could feel it slithering up her arm and shoulder, trying to get closer to her skin. Somehow, she knew it wanted to find the coldest part of her body, to allow her to chill the anger that burned through it.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered, looking up at him and seeing anger for the first time. Not rage, not something that would distract him into becoming a berserker. It was actual anger toward her.
She’d done something wrong again, and this time she didn’t know what to do.
She was so far out of her element here that it was hard to imagine what a priestess should do in this situation.
Astrid knew how to control every aspect of her life and others when she was in a castle, but here?
This was not something she knew how to manage.
Swallowing hard, she tried to tug her hand out of his grip. He didn’t let her.
Instead, he reeled her closer to him, his voice low and that rumbling tone making her heart race in her chest. “Just let it go, Astrid. It knows you want to help, and that is why it went to you. But those are not your feelings to take.”
“I could help you.”
“I did not ask to be helped.” Again, his hand tightened painfully on her wrist. She didn’t think he was intending to hurt her, but it did.
Astrid winced, unable to stop herself from making the expression. Almost immediately, he let her go. Bjorn took a staggering step backward, his eyes on her face and then down to the mark forming on her wrist.
More of the red pulsed again, and the one wrapped around her wrist jumped back onto him. She watched it strike his chest, and he staggered back another step like she’d struck him with it. He even rubbed the space where she’d seen it disappear into his flesh.
“I have to go,” he murmured, still rubbing that ache she knew was in his chest.
“Bjorn, I don’t know where I am. I need you to stay with me.”
“The memories...” He shook his head, and she knew she’d already lost him. “I’m sorry.”
Then, he was gone. Racing away from her and this house like he was on fire. The shape of him disappeared through the brambles near his mother’s home, leaving behind only a scrap of fabric and what looked like a smear of blood on the branches.
Her heart broke for him, but also, what was she supposed to do here? He’d brought her to this place with the expressed knowledge that these people could break her out of the binding and then they could find her sister. Now he’d left her here?
“That isn’t new,” his mother’s voice said from the shadows of her home. “He used to take off like that as a boy all the time, if you were wondering.”
Of course, his mother would be home. Why wouldn’t she be here to complicate matters even further?
“That sounds frustrating as a parent,” Astrid replied, heading into the home.
“More worrisome than anything. Even as a child, he was big. I never worried about the creatures of the forest with him. What could battle him?” Ylva appeared out of the shadows, lighting what looked like some kind of magical lantern and illuminating the space.
It was so cozy in here. Every bit of the floor was covered in plush woven rugs, sheepskin, and dark brown furs.
The furniture was very comfortable looking with a small official seating area, a fireplace that already churned with a fire to keep out the nightly chill, and a small kitchen in the back.
This was the first troll home they’d been in thus far with doors that led to separate rooms. Three of them, which Astrid could only assume were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
“Your home is lovely,” she said, stepping toward the seating area and taking a tentative seat. She didn’t want to be a bother here, and she was suddenly very aware that she was wearing a man’s shirt, some belts, and nothing else.
Ylva didn’t seem to mind, though. She was already cooking in the kitchen, likely making a hearty meal for the three of them to eat, as any good hostess would do.
It made Astrid feel out of place. She didn’t belong. These trolls were doing what they could for each other, and having her here only made everything that much more complicated.
Bjorn should’ve been able to see his family, his friends, and not worry about her.
She folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath.
Maybe that had been the issue. It seemed very likely that he had snapped because that other troll had put his hand on her shoulder, and that was by far an exaggerated reaction.
She was fine. The other troll was allowed to touch whomever he wanted.
She was used to that kind of treatment as a priestess.
“My son claims you are a priestess in your kingdom,” Ylva said. She stood in the kitchen, her hands working through dough. The pounding sound of her fists striking it snapped Astrid out of her thoughts.
“Yes, I am,” she replied. “Although it does not mean the same thing to your people as it does to my own.”
“I’m certain it doesn’t. Humans do not respect the old ways, magic, or very much else these days.” Ylva took a deep breath and then planted her hands on the counter beside the dough. “Perhaps you would care to enlighten me on what it does mean to your people.”
So Astrid let the words spill out. It wasn’t the smartest thing for her to do.
If these trolls wished to use it against her own, then they absolutely could.
The priestesses were a formidable force in the kingdom, and very few knew they were so talented.
Although the trolls didn’t seem interested in using people like her to their benefit.
If anything, they seemed to just want to be left alone.
When she was finished, Ylva was nodding. “So you use your feminine wiles to control the men who believe they are in control. Very interesting.”
“Sometimes, yes. Other times it is very boring. The rules of the kingdom are to be silent and not seen, but my people are also somewhat of a trophy. The more we look like the king’s daughter, the more likely we are to have power.
” She shrugged. “I do not know why. The king has his favorites, and power follows his favorites.”
“Likely because the king himself has considerable power,” Ylva replied. “King James might be human, but he is not to be underestimated. That man has magic, and that magic spills over to those he begets a child with.”
Astrid supposed that was true. She’d only met the princess once, and that woman was also as evil as they came. She’d touched her magic only slightly and the emotions that came with it, and both of those things had made Astrid recoil in horror.
Considering how afraid the prisoners were of the princess as well, she suspected there was good reason for the princess’s name to be whispered only in hushed tones.
Ylva got her bread into the right shape and then came to sit with Astrid. She reached for her hands, holding them in her own before turning them over. “I used to know my son well. But now I believe you know him better than I do.”
Astrid sucked in a breath as the troll woman traced the lines on her palms. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been traveling with him for a week, and was trapped in the labyrinth with him for a short time before that, but I wouldn’t say I know the man well.”
“Trauma has a way of building trust between those who may never have trusted each other before. You were both trapped in that awful place. You were both there unwillingly. Clearly there is a bond between you.” Ylva pricked a small hole in Astrid’s hand.
That small prick of pain was nothing compared to the blood that welled out, and the deep violet mist that arose with that bead.
“Perhaps more than just a normal bond of two people who have shared experiences.”
She swallowed even harder. “We stayed the night in a blood witch’s home.”
“I saw.”
“It was a mistake. One that we must remedy for me to save my sister.”
Ylva took a deep breath, sighed, and then leaned back in her chair. “Breaking a bond such as this is dark magic. It takes much out of the person who does the breaking, and those who seek to break the bond.”
“I understand that it is a lot to ask.”
“Why do you wish to break the bond with my son?”
Why did she? That was an easy answer. “He said it was the only way to save my sister. I would sacrifice my own life if it meant she was safe. Rose is all I have. She’s an innocent who couldn’t even make it through the training to become a priestess. She deserves more than what life gave her.”
Throughout all of her words, Ylva’s gaze tightened. Her eyes narrowed upon her, watching every word as it was shaped by her mouth as though she had to believe the words that Astrid said. “What if I told you that you could do all that without breaking the bond?”
“He said it was impossible. That life would be torment for the both of us, so far from our... bonded mates.” The words were difficult for her to say. They still seemed foreign on her tongue.
“It is true that bonded pairs do not do well far from each other. But I see no reason why you should leave.”
The words stunned her. Astrid opened her mouth, closed it, tried to think of a good reason to leave and then finally blurted, “Wherever Rose goes, so do I. Your people kidnapped my sister to use as collateral so that I would free Bjorn. They threatened her life, and I have no doubt they are keeping her in a prison. I think it’s highly unlikely that she would want to stay where she is a prisoner. ”
“Hm.” Ylva shrugged. “And if she does?”
“Is this something you have seen in the smoke?” Again, the words were strange. She asked the questions like no matter what Ylva said next, she would believe them. Like this was the truth that this woman could see the future.
It was preposterous. These were the words of an insane person, and she shouldn’t assume that Ylva could see the future. No human could. Why could a troll?
And yet, she still leaned forward ever so slightly, hoping that she could indeed see a time where Rose didn’t want Astrid to end this bond.
But Ylva shrugged. “I can only see the future of those who ask. Are you asking me to look into your future, Astrid?”
She didn’t know.
Knowing the future felt like a sharp sword that she was holding flat side against her skin. If she tilted it just right, it would cut her.
She licked her lips and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think I want to know my future.”
“Then don’t ask questions.” Ylva stood, heading back toward the kitchen. “I can tell you have power in you, but if you have no wish to see how that power can change and grow here, then I will not force you.”
Astrid remained on the sofa, not sure that she’d made the right choice. Finally, she clutched her fingers together and said, “I don’t know what I want right now. I’m afraid there’s much for me to consider.”
“Yes, I’ve given you far more than you wanted to think about.” She nodded toward the door on the far right. “That will be your bedroom. If Bjorn returns tonight, I’ll send him in to you.”
Astrid had already made it halfway to the door before the words registered. “You’ll... send him in?”
“Of course. You’re mated. Therefore, you will share a bed.” His mother raised a brow. “Unless you would have him sleep on the floor?”
She could hear the judgment in Ylva’s tone that warned she had only one response that would be appropriate. So Astrid bared her teeth in what she hoped looked like a smile and said, “Yes, of course. How silly of me.”
Then she walked into the bedroom, shut the door, and pressed her forehead against it. She hadn’t expected life to get so much more complicated here among the trolls. But she supposed she should have.
Now she had to have dinner with his mother alone. How tense would that be?