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

have sent after her, he had to send the smart ones. Wandering faeries knew how to capture others. They had no allegiance to any court and thus were completely untouchable by any threats of a court reprimand.

Angrily, she snarled at the one with the deeper voice. “I’m going to tear out every hair on your body,” she threatened. “One by one until you regret ever taking me.”

He held up his hand, the long snout at the end of his face twitching with laughter. “Oh, I’m terrified. Just get out of those ropes first, love, would you?”

She wasn’t happy, and she intended to make good on those threats the moment they untied her. And they would have to untie her to fulfil their promise. The dwarven king wouldn’t want her lying down on a cart.

Elva tugged at the ropes again. “Where are we?”

“The Otherworld.”

Well, at least she was home. Elva stared up at the trees with leaves shaped like stars and realized how much she hated this land. The Otherworld had become a place where she’d been turned into something other than herself. Something pretty and proper who was expected to simper and follow orders.

No more. She wasn’t that woman, and she didn’t have to be if she didn’t want to be. Unless, of course, her mother got her claws back into her.

She couldn’t stay here long.

Lying flat, she blew out a breath. “Release me, and I’ll double whatever he’s paying you.”

The one on the left chuckled. “Little girl, I don’t think you could really afford us.”

“My mother is known as the Duchess of Light in the courts. Perhaps you’ve heard of her and my father? Illumin is his name. He can do almost anything you want him to.”

The far darrig leaned over her until his whiskers touched her cheek. “Can he get our brother away from the dwarven king? Oh, and maybe convince Angus that it’s a bad idea to go to war with the wandering faeries? Maybe also give us a royal pardon for sneaking into the cellars of the Seelie King and stealing almost every sword he had just to see whether or not he still had the sword of Nuada?”

She stared into his beady eyes and felt her mouth twist in disgust. “No.”

“Then I think we’re at an impasse, princess.” He patted her cheek. “But it’s good to know you’re worth money for when the dwarven king is done with you. Maybe we’ll take you back and ransom you to dear ol’ Mummy and Daddy.”

Gods, she hated wandering fae. They were usually weak creatures who were cast out of their courts, unless they were these creatures. Related yet again to the leprechaun, far darrig were creatures without laws.

Why was she meeting so many creatures related to leprechauns lately?

“Shut up,” she snarled.

“Gladly. I didn’t want to talk to you anyway. You’re boring.”

The rest of the trip was passed in silence other than the sounds of Elva twisting the ropes around her wrists. She wanted to get out, to be able to save herself. However, these creatures really did know what they were doing. They’d tied her so successfully, she wasn’t sure she could have gotten out of these ties with days at her disposal.

Thankfully, the journey wasn’t days long. Just as the sun was setting on the horizon, the far darrig stopped the cart, clicked their heels together, and slapped their foreheads with their hands.

When they remained completely still, she sighed. “What are you doing?”

“Hush, the king approaches.”

“Care to tell me why you’re holding your foreheads then?”

The hissed response made even less sense. “It shows respect! You should do the same, faerie princess.”

Elva didn’t have it in her to try and explain that, first of all, they shouldn’t be holding their foreheads. Their hands should be at an angle to their skull, a salute. And second of all, her hands were still tied.

A voice interrupted them, the age-old sound of a mountain groaning. She hadn’t ever heard a voice so deep or so filled with pleasure. “Thank you, far darrig. You’ve done a wonderful job. I shall offer you my services as repayment.”

“A job well done indeed, your majesty. You asked for the woman, and we supplied her.”

“Supplied” was a harsh word. They’d taken her from the rubble of the castle when she’d fallen beneath it. But sure, they could take credit for destroying an entire magical building created by the creature who had cursed Donnacha.

Elva ground her teeth and stared up at the first stars poking through the sky. Rolling her lips between her teeth, she tried to wipe away her expression that clearly conveyed she was fed up. Done. She didn’t want to be around faeries ever again.

Crunching footsteps approached her.

She wasn’t going to look. It didn’t matter if the far darrig wanted to say goodbye to her or if it was the dwarven king himself. They could all go suck an elf for all she cared.

A face blocked out the stars from her sight. Angus, the king of the dwarves, was very much as she remembered. She’d only met him once at a ball when his people were still part of the Seelie court, but he was just as handsome. His beard had speckles of gray, but his vivid blue eyes were still as pretty as before. Now, she saw something familiar in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks.

“Hello, Elva,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I thought I’d go for a stroll. Lovely night for a walk.”

“Little hard to walk with your hands tied.”

She looked down at her wrists. “Oh this? New fashion statement. It’s all the rage in the courts, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“Ah, I thank the stars every day I don’t.” He nodded at her wrists as well. “Shall I?”

“I’d be ever so grateful,” she said sarcastically.

Angus reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. The dim light of the moon reflected off the sharp edge. She’d seen dwarven-made blades like