Page 3 of A Darkness So Sweet
Maia supposed that made sense. Swallowing hard, she tried to tug her hand out of the princess’s grip, only to find that the other woman was gripping onto her a little too tightly.
“Your highness?” she asked, trying not to look too afraid in front of the other women in the room. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” the princess said, but she didn’t appear to be well. “It’s rare to find someone who is so alike me. I’d like you to be in my wedding party, Maia.”
She... what?
“Excuse me?” Maia asked, certain she hadn’t heard the princess correctly.
“I think you would look lovely standing up there next to me. I need someone who won’t look afraid as the trolls come in. You seem like you have a spine of steel and clearly have your wits about you, as a business woman.”
But why would a princess wanther? They’d never met before today, and even if they had known each other for years, it simply wasn’t done. She wasn’t even remotely nobility. Not in the slightest.
“I don’t think?—“
The princess snapped her fingers and all the maids moved away from her as one. It was strange to watch them. Every step was synchronized, as though they had planned every moment of this.
“I would like Miss Maia to wear a gown of the finest quality. She will stand beside me as the brutes enter our castle grounds, and she will be the first they see. No one will question if she’s afraid, or if I am afraid.” That smile appeared on her face again, so perfect made her appear to be made of stone. “She will be the only one to accompany me to the altar.”
“I don’t really want to?—“
“I won’t take no for an answer,” the princess interrupted her. Her bright blue eyes turned steely, as though she was unused to anyone even beginning to say the word no to her. “Or would you like me to ask my father to ensure you are there?”
No, she didn’t want to catch the attention of the king. He was known throughout their lands for his iron fist and his speed to kill. She’d heard many artisans who came to the castle never returned to their home because their product didn’t provide him with what he needed.
“No need,” she whispered. “I’d be honored to be there with you on your wedding day.”
Some of the tension leaked out of the princess. She held out both of her hands, waiting for maids to appear underneath and help turn her back toward the mirror. “Good. I simply don’t believe I could do it without you.”
What strange words they were, as two more maids gestured for Maia to follow them and drew her toward a dressing room.
It was an odd day already, and apparently it was only going to get more strange by the hour.
ChapterTwo
RAGNAR
Splashing water over his face, Ragnar tried to still his thoughts. They’d been rushing for the better part of two months now. A hundred thoughts, a thousand of them, voices screaming in his mind over and over again.
What he had agreed to do was wrong.
No, it was more than wrong. It was repulsive. Helping his people in any way that he could—that was the honorable thing he had chosen to do. But marrying ahuman?
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach it. He’d walk down that stupid aisle and he’d throw up right at her feet. Not in fear, but in knowing that he was going to marry one of her kind. Humans were creatures he had never found attractive, and yet now he would be bound to one. Not just in life and in marriage, but offspring were expected as well, which would require...
Gagging again, he shook his head and braced himself on the edge of the leather basin. He could do this. He had been bid by his king to make this connection, even if it was a lie.
The human king James had asked for peace. The troll king Egil had laughed and said the only peace would come from elven blood. And that was when the treaty had been signed. It was King James who had offered up his own daughter. A woman who was half elven. Her blood was pure, far more pure than Ragnar’s own, that was certain.
His people needed those bloodlines. They were tired of the baser instincts that came with being made of mud and fur. It had taken centuries for them to build up as much elven blood as they already had. The magic that ran in their veins was stronger than most humans would ever see, but it still wasn’t enough.
The troll king had no interest in using his own offspring for this treaty, however. No. He would not give a prince to a mortal woman.
That was where Ragnar came in.
The flap to his tent opened, the supple leather barely making a sound as another massive troll walked through the opening. His brother, Gunnar, was the spitting image of their father. Broad shoulders, darker green skin, and tusks that were so large they nearly curved up to his cheekbones. His flat features were what made him so handsome to the troll women, but it was the faded stripes on his skin that set him even more apart.
They had the same set, he and his brother. Markings that made them blend into the foliage when they moved through the birch groves that dotted their mountain home. But Ragnar had not been blessed with the same deep green skin. He took after their mother, with plum and mulberry streaked beneath the tattoos across his arm and chest.
