Chapter 2

Norgren

S he trusts me. Just enough to follow me back to the house that I’ve prepared for her, but still, she trusts me. This was the first big hurdle.

The few words of Freysian I learned from Grunagg’s little human mate are serving me well. Now I think it will finally go to good use.

We walk deeper into the trees, toward the mountains off in the distance. My skin tingles with excitement as the woods start to give way to the glade, my human following close behind me. A creek runs through it, turning some of the ground mushy and wet. As we approach the water, I turn to my human. She is beautiful, really—almost blindingly so now that we’re up close. But I don’t want to worry her yet with how much I lust for her, so it is easiest if I don’t look at her.

“Up,” I say, not sure how to explain what I’m going to do. The human woman repeats the word back to me, confusion in her big, brown eyes. I gesture at the river, and then repeat the word, “Up.” When she still doesn’t understand, I let out a sigh, then reach down and slip my hands under her legs. She lets out another one of those piercing screams, but I remain steadfast as I haul her up into my arms. She wriggles as I stalk through the mud, over the creek, and through the marsh on the other side. Her wailing comes to an abrupt stop when I set her back down again.

“Sorry,” I say, another word I learned from the human and her whelp, who she was teaching to apologize after running around the camp kicking and screaming. My uncle pretends to hate such a nuisance, but I can tell that deep down, the breath of fresh life has settled in him, and he likes it.

I look forward to getting to know my human more, showing her what other delights I can offer her and what a good life I can provide.

After our little conflict over the river crossing, though, she is hesitant to trust me again. I urge her onward, saying, “Come, please,” and again, hearing the words in her own tongue seems to take her by surprise. “Food?” I attempt, trying out another word, hoping that perhaps the universal need for sustenance will convince her to come along.

Her brow furrows, and the look of perplexed consternation on her face is cute beyond reason. I truly see what Grunagg sees now—though my mate is much more beautiful than his, and far less fragile.

Uneasily she takes a step forward, and then another one, and I give her an encouraging smile. Once we’re walking again, I hum under my breath, pleased with how well this is going. She gives me another wide-eyed look, so I sing the song a bit louder.

“Wow,” she says, followed by some words in Freysian I don’t understand. I just nod and smile, and she seems impressed.

Then, at last, we reach the house.

I trimmed back some of the trees so it would have a good view, and used them to build a new door and solid wood steps leading up to it. My human stops abruptly when she sees the house, though, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong. This had been my plan for today or tomorrow, depending on when she came out to go foraging, so I made sure to start a fire before I left and keep it warm inside.

Her eyes wide, the human turns to me and says something I don’t quite understand.

“Yours?” she asks again, clearly stunned. I preen a little. I think she is surprised by how sturdy and clean of a home it is. I hope she can imagine herself there, living in plenty.

“Mine,” I say. “Yours.”

Her brows furrow again, like I’ve used words she doesn’t understand. But she will soon, when I show her the rest of it. I walk to the door and open it, then gesture inside.

“Come,” I repeat.

It looks as if there is a war going on inside her between the urge to flee, and the curiosity that wants to see inside. I need to persuade the part of her that’s interested in what I have to offer.

“Food,” I say. “Fire?”

Her eyes dart to the open doorway, and after a long moment of hesitating where I don’t draw a single breath, she nods and walks in the door.

Once inside, she inhales with what can only be described as pleasure, and I’m glad that I got the fragrant wood for burning, and hung some herbs in the corners. She turns around in a circle and surveys what I’ve built for her. There is a low table, suitable for someone human-sized, with two chairs: one built for me and one built for her. Further in, across from the warm fire crackling in the hearth, I’ve laid bountiful furs on the floor, perfect for sitting in the cold winter evenings and enjoying one another’s warmth.

She takes it all in, her eyes still wide, and her mouth opens in a small circle.

“Yours?” she asks again .

Again I respond, “Mine. Yours.”

I feel as if she is missing something. Does she not yet realize that this is all for her? Perhaps I know what will convince her.

I lead her past the fireplace, to the room closed off with another door. We ogres don’t use things like doors, choosing instead to block off our caves with curtains, or blockade an entrance with a stone or plank. But my human doesn’t take the knob in her hand, not understanding what it is I want. So I open it for her and gesture again to go inside.

Her shoulders tense as she peers through. I’ve constructed a great bed, having gotten a good idea of what a human bed should look like, and made it big enough to accommodate both of us. Beds are elaborate affairs, with a headboard and four legs. I’ve piled more furs on top, taken from wolves during winter when their coats had turned white. I smooth over the fur with one hand and gesture to her again.

“Come?” I ask.

Once more she is conflicted over what to do next. I step away from the bed and busy myself in a corner, where I’ve woven some baskets for her belongings, so I don’t crowd her. I don’t want her to think I plan anything untoward.

Uneasily she steps over the threshold, and I can tell when her curiosity gets the better of her because she reaches out and takes the soft, white pelt on top of the bed in her hand.

“Oh!” she says with surprise. She pets the fur more eagerly now, and spews off some words in her tongue I can’t catch.

“Yes?” I ask. “Good?”

She nods her head, having lost all pretense of nervousness. “Yes, good.”

My pleasure is immense. “Yours,” I say again, approaching her where she stands. She watches me carefully, but doesn’t flinch when I get near.

This is positive. She doesn’t fear me, either. That had been my greatest worry, as humans and trollkin have hated one another for so long. I thought I might not be able to escape her prejudices.

I place a hand on my chest, then say my name. “Norgren.” Then I gesture at her. “Your name?”

“Norgren?” she repeats, and I tap my chest again.

“Norgren.” Ever so slowly, I reach out and tap a finger on her chest. Her breath halts. “You?” I say, in her tongue.

“Tally.” She rubs her chest where I touched her. “I’m Tally.”

Tally

Wow.

This guy has it going on. It’s a beautiful house, clearly maintained well, with new wood furniture and a warm hearth inside. When the big ogre showed me his bedroom, I thought that certainly he was planning something, and that he meant to sate his needs with my body. That’s what he is, I realize now—an ogre, and the biggest of the trollkin. I thought ogres were gone now, but apparently there are still some in existence. I’d always been told trollkin were more barbaric in their housing choices, but this place is nicer than the ratty box where I live in town by a long shot.

But the ogre didn’t try anything of the sort, even making himself smaller in the corner so I wouldn’t feel intimidated. And that bed . That’s really what’s alluring about this place: the soft pile of pelts and furs that hang off the wooden frame, and a broad headboard carved with leaves and animals. The work is intricate, and I wonder how long it took him to make it. Surely weeks, if not more.

Who knew that an ogre would be living out here in the woods in the lap of luxury?

I wonder why he’s shown this to me. When we’re finished with the tour, he leads me out a back door, where there’s an outhouse stationed at the bottom of the steps. That would be a pleasant upgrade, too, over my chamberpot and the ditch where we all dump them.

As the ogre hurries to do something in the kitchen, I stand in the middle of the big room and warm myself by the fire. What am I still doing here? I can’t even say why I came along in the first place. I just knew that this big creature wouldn’t hurt me, not if he hadn’t already.

Perhaps I’m lonely and didn’t even realize it. I am here in the city alone, after all. I moved by myself after having a rather rotten childhood, and got a job apprenticing under Kell. She’s really my only company, as salty as she is. This guy, on the other hand, only knows a few words, most of them polite. I wonder how he learned it.

The ogre quickly returns with a wood tray, and piled on it are berries, some nuts, a thick piece of cooked meat, and even some roots that have been carefully roasted over a fire. He offers me the smaller chair at the table and I sit in it, as if I’m in a dream. Why is this chair smaller than the other chair? I feel like I’m missing something.

At first, it’s strange that only I have food and he doesn’t, but then I realize he lives here and probably eats this well every night.

I don’t realize just how hungry I am until I start in on the meal. Then I’m sucked up into it, devouring the fresh food, slipping a ripe berry into my mouth and relishing the sensation of the skin popping between my teeth. The cooked venison is bliss, and the roots are even better. I glance up at my host and he’s smiling widely, enjoying my pleasure. An odd twinge tickles me in the belly, as if something about this is strangely familiar. Perhaps I dreamt of it before.

When I’m finished, I realize I’ve cleaned off the tray, and the ogre is happy as can be. He takes it away and then returns to the table. His gaze finds mine, and I’m surprised by the deep intelligence behind those strange, foreign eyes. I don’t know what I expected when he led me out here, but it certainly was not this. I feel as if I’ve spent an afternoon with a friend, even though we can just barely communicate.

The sun peeks in the window, suddenly blinding me. It’s getting late, and I really need to go find some actual lavender before I head back to the shop. With this rather extravagant detour, Kell will know that I was lollying about and not doing my job.

I stand up quickly. I’m unsettled with how this little excursion made me feel, how it triggered a pleasant ache in my chest—almost like I wanted more. The ogre looks up in surprise and confusion as I head towards the door.

“I need to go,” I tell him.

Quickly he gets out of his chair, and I’m faced again with how massive he is. I nod my head and smile. “Thank you for having me over. I guess.” Whatever this was.

But he just shakes his head, and that smile is all gone from his face. “No,” he says. “Stay.”

I frown. We had a nice afternoon meal together, but now my life is calling to me again. I won’t tell anyone that he’s here, of course. They would certainly try to drive him out of our valley, perhaps even kill him. I can’t let that happen.

“No,” I repeat. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head urgently. “Not sorry. Stay.”

When I move once again to open the door, he blocks my way.