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“Tell me again why you chose me,” I demand, planting my feet. He could drag me into the building if he wanted to, but I’m hoping he won’t. At least, not before he answers my question.
He looks puzzled. “I have told you. I owe you my life. I am the only one who can communicate with you. I did not wish for you to become livestock.”
Oh, yay. The romantic declarations every bride wants to hear. “Why would you care, though? You don’t even know me.”
He frowns, looking more puzzled than ever. “Honor is important to trolls. I would not let the one who saved me die. But more than that, I think you are interesting. I have never been opposed to a union with a human. I think we are well suited, and of course, we will coe to know each other.”
“If it’s about honor, why not let me go? That would be an easier way to repay me,” I point out.
“I told you before, that is not an option. You are mine. You are meant to be my wife. Now, come. We must go inside.”
He gives my arm a little tug and I give in with a sigh.
The lighting in the building is dim, with just a few torches mounted to the walls so we can see. It seems to be the troll version of a chapel, though there are no pews. But there is an altar of sorts, and an older troll man stands at it, waiting for us.
“That is Kurzol,” Bradoc says in a low voice. “The leader of our tribe. He will perform the ceremony.”
We stop before the altar and Bradoc kneels, so I follow suit. Kurzol says something in the troll language, and Bradoc responds, then translates. “He asks if I am sure I wish to claim you has my wife. I told him yes.”
I wonder if I’ll be asked if I want to take Bradoc as my husband, but I have my doubts. I don’t seem to have many rights in this whole thing.
“I will tell you what to say and when to say it,” Bradoc tells me.
Kurzol launches into a speech that I don’t pay much attention to, given that I can’t understand a word. Eventually, he pauses and Bradoc says, “Kala.”
They both look at me expectantly, and Bradoc gives me a nudge, so I repeat him. “Kala?”
Kurzol nods and carries on. After a moment, he asks Bradoc something and my groom responds with “Moz.” He gives me another little nudge, so I say it too.
We proceed like that for a few moments, with me answering questions in a language I don’t speak. Then Bradoc takes my left hand in his right, and Kurzol walks in a circle around us three times. He sprinkles scented water over our heads and makes a proclamation, and then Bradoc stands and pulls me up with him. We turn and walk silently out of the chapel.
“Is that it?” I ask when we’re back outside.
“Yes,” he says. “We are now wed by the customs of my tribe, encircled for life by the tribe leader, and blessed by my people. Now we return to my cabin.”
Bradoc
It doesn’t quite seemreal. After so many seasons without a mate, and with the shortage of troll women, I never truly believed I would take a bride. Certainly not so soon. Maybe in my later years, if the opportunity presented itself. But here I am, wed to a delicate human woman with a gift for healing.
I know other members of the tribe were surprised that I claimed Oaklyn. With three troll females to choose from, and the honor of first pick, most of the village assumed I would select Lakana, the beautiful woman that Rokahn wed today.
In truth, if someone had asked me even a season ago which one I would choose, I would have thought it would be Lakana.
But there are things about Oaklyn that fascinate me, from her tiny proportions to the green in her curls to her simple honesty. Not to mention, her willingness to heal me. I would not have let her become livestock, but I could have prevented that without wedding her.
The simple fact is, I want her.
And tonight, I intend to take her.
It does not take long to reach my cabin, and I can tell that Oaklyn is nervous. I am aware that she doesn’t understand our customs and that none of her actions since we met have been by choice. She will come to understand that that is the way for females in this society, but until then, I must proceed with caution.
I think that if I keep her calm and intrigued, and do not give her time to panic, she will cooperate. She likes me, and despite her protests about leaving, I can sense her interest in both me and my tribe. All I need to do is keep her occupied. Fortunately, I have the perfect idea of how to do that.
“This is your home now,” I tell her as we enter my cabin. “What’s mine is yours, by the custom of my people.”
“Okay,” she says, and there is a wobble of uncertainty in her voice. She is still doubting the situation.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
