The captain doesn’t say anything—which isn’t unusual—but the silence is so thick I glance back to gauge his expression. He’s staring at me with a mixture of horror and incredulity.
“I’d rather use a potion than a sword anyway,” I rush to explain, gesturing toward the vials on my belt. “These are a strong paralytic. Why would I go out of my way to kill an innocent creature when I could just as easily stun it?”
“You think frost trolls are innocent?”
“I think they are as long as they’re minding their own business and not hurting anyone.”
Fox’s dark blonde eyebrows pull low, and he makes a frustrated sound before turning back toward the tunnel and leaning against the cavern wall to wait for me.
It only takes me another minute to finish up. Then, shoving the cork into my final vial, I straighten up and shake dirt and straw from my long skirt. I feel Fox’s eyes on me as I walk back to the tunnel entrance.
Whatever.I don’t really care if Fox is annoyed with me. He’s the one who barged his way in on my plans. He didn’t have to come. Still, we’ve only been walking back down the winding cave passageway for a few minutes before I can’t take the tense silence any longer. “Stop glaring at me. I can practically hear your mind spinning.”
“You were really planning to waltz in here in your pretty little dress, with barely any weapons, and try to negotiate with an ‘innocent’ monster,” Fox blurts out in a single, agitated breath.
I blink, surprised by his outburst. “I think that’s the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you speak. I don’t know whether I should be flattered that you’re bothering to talk to me or offended that you clearly think I’m an idiotic child. We hardly know each other. I don’t remember asking for your help with this, yet here you are, barging in on my plans and lecturing me on how to do it better.”
His eyes narrow and he turns his face forward, refusing to look at me as we walk. “I think you’re naïve, not an idiot,” he says finally. Then, almost like an afterthought, adds: “I definitely don’t think you’re a fucking child.”
“Good.” I sniff. “Because I’m not. I didn’t need your help. I’d obviously prefer not to kill anything unless I have to, but I know that trolls are too violent and animalistic to be reasoned with. Imight as well try to put a werewolf on a leash and make it beg me for treats.”
Fox’s nostrils flare. He glances back at me again, and something dark flashes in his pale eyes. “Tried that before, have you?”
“Maybe.” I grin. “You really shouldn’t underestimate me.”
He scoffs again, but this time it sounds less judgmental and more amused.
At that moment, a shadow falls over us, plunging the passage into inky darkness. My gaze snaps toward the cave entrance, and I suck in a startled gasp, eyes transfixed on the enormous creature suddenly blocking our way out.
The frost troll is even more enormous than it looked in my books; nine—maybe ten—feet of blue-white muscle and matted silver hair, its breath freezing in clouds around yellowed tusks the length of my entire arm. It seems as if the troll is just as surprised to see us as we are to see it, and its beady black eyes widen for a moment, before it opens its wide mouth and a deafening roar shatters the silence, vibrating the icicles until they crash to the ground all around us.
“Fuck,” Fox growls under his breath.
“What is it doing back so soon?” I exclaim, my eyes going very wide.
Unsurprisingly, Fox ignores my question. In the blink of an eye, he reaches out one enormous hand and shoves my entire body roughly behind him, before drawing the largest of his swords in a single fluid motion.
“Wait!” I hiss, reaching into my belt for my stunning potion. “Don’t kill it. Just let me?—”
I don’t get a chance to finish my thought. The troll’s face contorts in animalistic rage, and it charges down the cave passageway, icy droplets exploding from the floor and walls withevery thundering step. In less than half a second, it reaches us and roars again as it raises its huge fist and swings toward Fox.
Fox ducks, letting the troll’s fist whistle past the top of his head. In the same fluid motion, he swings his large sword in a well-practiced arc, and cleaves through sinew and bone, severing the troll’s massive forearm. Dark blood sprays across the ice as the dismembered limb thuds against the cave floor.
The troll’s howl reverberates off the icy walls as it lurches forward, its severed stump splattering more viscous blood across the ice. Fox pivots on his heel, his sword catching blue light along its edge. The blade whistles through the air, then meets flesh with a wet thud. The creature’s eyes bulge. Its massive body shudders once, twice, then crumples to the ground, its final breath escaping in a cloud of steam that dissipates against the cold stone.
I stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed down at the body of the troll. The entire fight took less than ten seconds.
Still gaping, I look up at Fox, who is barely out of breath. His pale-blonde hair has come slightly undone from its knot and is skimming his sharp jaw, but aside from that he looks completely unbothered as he wipes the blood from his sword on his thigh and puts it back in its sheath.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I knew Fox was a soldier, yet I honestly believed he was named head of the Vernalli army mainly because of his close friendship with the new king.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Like he can feel my eyes, Fox glances up to meet my gaze. He cocks his head in something between a question and a challenge.
I shake my head to clear it and stand up straighter. “Thank you. But that really wasn’t needed, I could have stunned it.”
He laughs under his breath. “That’s how witches die, you know.”
