She pauses as if just now considering this. When her eyes flick back to me, her guardedness has faded.
“So, did you marry the Troll King because you wanted to escape? Or did he force you?” she asks, though I know she’s supposed to be pouring a bath. The bucket she brought with her is still by the door, and the fire remains unlit.
I won’t complain.
“I proposed the idea to Teo because I wanted his help to save my brother,” I say. There’s so much more to say, that I am trying to escape, that I was made a queen. She doesn’t even know about the two powers in my chest—one from the Fuegorra with the ability to see the future and heal my body, and the other, a gift of light that burns others.
She raises an eyebrow. “I’d say you made a bad deal.”
I take a deep breath.
“Teo will come for me. I know it—and he’ll help me get my brother back. I just might have to help him out a little.” It’s a heavy gamble to reveal so much to her, but there’s curiosity on her side. It’s a risk I’m willing to take if I can have an ally.
“Did you consummate your marriage?” She decides to eat the rest of the bread.
The question prods at the ugly, broken memories, and I furrow my brow against the pulsing pain in my mind.
“I…” I wince against the pain in my head. “I fell in love with him. They have something called mates in the caves—it’s like your perfect other half.”
She watches the pain on my face but reveals nothing of her own thoughts. Then she looks at the marks on my neck.
“So you did.”
I nod.
“Ahh, so that is why Rholker was so mad. Gods, men are allthe same—they get whoever they want, but the second you touch someone else, they start a fucking war.” She reaches into the cage and takes another piece of my bread.
I say nothing.
“Something like that,” I say, feeling that familiar helpless rage peeking up at me from its dim hiding place. Everything in Zlosa is cold, wet, and bitter. I just need to get out of here and gohome.
“But the Enduares aren’t such jealous, fickle beings. They were all respectful. Even the king. He waited until I came to him.” I wince again in pain, trying to keep the panic at bay as false memories of blood invade my senses and the sensation of choking settles around my throat. “You might think me half mad, but the stories they tell you about trolls are lies. It took me… too long to realize that.”
She gives me a sideways look.
“It is a place where slavery doesn’t exist. Where you are given a choice over your life—where you can write your freedom on your heart for all to see. For you to choose. I wish I could paint you a picture of the love between the people, the hardworking community, the gentleness met with stone-tempered strength when necessary.”
The woman scoffs again but then reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a handful of jewels. They sing to each other, and my whole soul fills with the light of home. Not so much memories asfeelingsof memories, ghosts in my mind that are untouched by the slicing.
It’s impossible to contain the tears that well up and slide down my cheeks.
“Easy there. I found these when I was taking your dress to be burned,” she trails off. Then she holds them through the bars. “You should do a better job of hiding them.”
Our hands brush when I take them from her. “Why are youdoing this? You could’ve kept them… or traded them for something better.”
She grows irritated that I’ve offered her anything. “You overestimate my relationship with most other slaves. Many comfort women are my friends, but many are merely pets to their masters—little songbirds. Someone would run their mouth, I would get in trouble, you would get in trouble. Besides, my things are searched regularly.”
I watch her, acutely aware of how precious this tentative allyship is between us. “By the foreman?” I ask.
She lets out a bitter laugh. “By his wife.”
My mouth drops open.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugs.
I hold up the stones and then hum a note—one that Ulla used to make while we worked together on plants.
