Curse of the Troll, Emma Hamm [books to read to increase intelligence TXT] 📗

came into the castle. They took Fionn’s place, destroyed his reign, and then gave me the option to either leave with my husband or stay.”

“Ah,” Donnacha replied. “And you chose to stay.”

“I did.”

“Hardest decision of your life?”

“No,” she replied, and a shadow darkened her eyes. “The hardest decision was to not tell him that I wasn’t going with him. I stood there and watched as he was banished. I knew he was still in love with me. He’d wrapped his world around me, and I wasn’t going to leave with him. I carry that guilt with me every day. I told him nothing. I didn’t tell him that every moment he touched me, every night we lay together, I felt as though he were ripping something out of me.

“I can’t tell other women who have experienced this. He didn’t force me to do anything. He didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. And yet…it feels like he was doing something wrong.”

Gods, what did he say to that? This woman was already so torn up about this and, honestly, there was nothing for him to say.

He was a man, just like the person who had hurt her. She clearly didn’t want to trust him, and she shouldn’t, not that easily. Instead, he blew out a breath and stared at the flames with her.

How did he make up for the actions of another person? He didn’t. That was the long and short of it. Donnacha couldn’t track down the Seelie King and force the man to apologize. He couldn’t take away the memories because he stood by the words he’d said. They had made her into the woman she was right now.

She wasn’t weak, although she likely didn’t want to hear him say that. She wasn’t some creature that no one could love because she’d made a few mistakes. He knew that for certain because he was exactly the same.

But she wasn’t ready to hear any of that. She was still holding herself like she was going to fly apart if she didn’t clutch her ribs.

Maybe she would. And it would be a good thing if she finally let go of all that guilt and let it pour out of her as tears.

Only when she was ready, though. He wasn’t going to push her.

A telltale clanking echoed from the hall. Donnacha stood without looking at her, strode to the door, and opened it wide.

The red-headed faerie in his hall froze. The clurichaun clutched six bottles of wine in his small arms. His green eyes widened and his ruddy cheeks proved he’d already been drinking the day away.

“Donnacha,” the clurichaun said.

“Give me three.”

“Master, I don’t think—”

“Three,” he snarled.

The faerie handed them over awkwardly and then took off running down the hall. How he’d managed to sneak into this castle without the Troll Queen tossing him on his arse, Donnacha would likely never know. It didn’t matter, though. The man had served his purpose.

He closed the door and brought the wine bottles with him back to the seating area. Elva stared at the wall, still lost in her own thoughts.

“Here,” he muttered, popping the cork on one of the bottles and holding it out to her.

She took it, glancing at him in confusion. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t drinking anymore tonight?”

“Normally, I would say drinking your feelings away is a bad idea.” He ended the words on a grunt as he popped a cork on another bottle for himself. “But tonight seems like a good night to share a drink with a friend.”

She arched a brow. “Are we friends now?”

“Well, I’d like to think so.” He leaned forward and clanked their bottles together. “We’ll see by the end of the night. I don’t associate myself with those who cannot hold their liquor.”

Elva snorted. “You might be a dwarf, but I’m quite certain you haven’t drank anything in at least a few years.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t drink you under the table, faerie. All your kind have a rather delicate constitution.”

She rolled her eyes. “Try me, dwarf.”

And so he did.

9

Elva’s heartrate sped up, pounding in her chest and making her breathing difficult. The night was cold. Frigid even. She could see her breath in the air, and any part of her body that was exposed to the air felt like ice.

He still sat at the end of the bed, as he always did. It wasn’t fair for him to stay there. She still didn’t understand why he had to linger in her room, but apparently the topic was still off limits, whether he was talking about his bear self or the human man.

What kind of curse required him to stay in the same room as her? She had never seen his face at all. Just the dark outline of his body in the shadows. Even when they were drinking together, she could just barely see his movements. So what was the point of forcing him in here with her? To be so close to someone else, but never really within touch?

Elva stared at his silhouette. He wasn’t likely to hurt her. Yes, he’d said over and over that he didn’t want to touch her if she didn’t want him to touch her. But everyone always said that.

She’d found even the most trustworthy of men could turn on a dime if they wanted something. It made it damned difficult to plan her life around them. He could just…decide he wasn’t going to be so nice anymore.

“Why are you staring at me?” he muttered.

“I’m not.”

“I can feel your eyes on me. Stop staring and go to sleep, Elva.”

She pulled the furs up a little too roughly. “I’m not staring. And I can’t sleep, so you can stop telling me what to do.”

The blustering sigh he released was enough to let her know he didn’t believe a word she said. “Elva.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

The man had gotten into her head more than anyone else had in a long time. Even Scáthach with all her talents and trustworthy nature hadn’t