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“Well, for one thing, in a lot of human societies, women contribute outside the home. They have jobs, hobbies, friends, interests. Like, have you ever asked the women of your village if they can hunt? Or fish? They might surprise you with skills you didn’t know about. Has your village leader ever been a woman? Women can lead just as well as men, and might offer a different perspective. Or a different way of doing things. Also, most human women definitely get to have a say in who they date or marry. At least, in the culture I’m from, they do. Men can’t just point to them and say, ‘that one,’ and expect said woman to happily settle down.”
“Are you unhappy?” he asks. “Do you wish I had not chosen you?”
I shake my head in frustration. “It’s not that, exactly. I haven’t had enough time here to be unhappy, although I’m sure that would happen eventually. I’m just trying to explain why I would be angry if you were human.”
“You didn’t answer my second question.”
“No, I don’t wish that. I mean, I wish that you had a more equitable way of pairing off—have you even tried dating?—but if it had to happen, I’m glad you were the one who chose me. In spite of everything, I have feelings for you, Bradoc.”
“As I have feelings for you, my wife.”
This time, the way he says ‘my wife’ sends warm bubbles all through me, which is kind of annoying, given how it undercuts everything I’ve been saying. I guess that’s the crux of it. I don’twantto like how I feel with him, but Ido. Very confusing.
“Married couples shouldn’t just like each other, though. Or have developing feelings. They should be in love. At least, that’s what I believe.”
He looks puzzled, confusion wrinkling his tough, handsome face. “Of course. I believe this too. Love comes with time, with shared experiences. It grows between the husband and wife, the way the trees grow in the forest. Slowly, and with time, so that the roots are deep and the trunk is tall and strong.”
Okay, that’s kind of hard to argue with. “I mean, yeah. But what’s wrong with growing nice, deep roots before the marriage? You know what I mean?”
He shrugs. “I can see how this would work, and if it is the human way, I will respect it. But it is not the troll way.”
“I guess that’s my point. We can’t have a complete troll relationship, because I’m not a troll. If we’re going to try this at all, our marriage will have to be a mix of troll and human beliefs, or else it won’t work for me. I have to adapt to your culture, but you have to be prepared to adapt to mine. It’s the only way it will work.”
I’m saying all this like I plan to continue this sham of a marriage. But who am I kidding? No matter how much I like him, how much I might grow to love him in time, I’m not really going to spend my life in this cabin, hoping to get knocked up and birth a creature that might have horns, am I? The very thought makes my vagina cringe.
But the thought of giving him up makes my heart cringe, leaving me bewildered.
Then Bradoc says something unexpected. “I had not considered this, but you make a good point. If I expect you to become part of my tribe, it is only fair that I learn about your culture as well. To try and make compromises when and where you need me to. You must understand, Oaklyn, that even though my ways are strange to you, I strive to be a good husband. I want you to be happy. I wantusto be happy. I will try.”
Well, shit. There’s nothing like a tough man being vulnerable and understanding to make me feel all melty and squishy inside.
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Can we finish this discussion later?” he asks. “I must begin searching for my missing tribe members, now that it is light and the storm has ended.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ve pretty much said what I wanted to say, anyway.”
“Good.” He stands and stretches, showing off his huge, impressive body. I don’t even try not to stare. The six-pack, the biceps, the muscled forearms. The long hair, all intricately braided back. The scars and the powerful legs. He’s a fucking package, all right.
“This search will be difficult, “ he says, stepping into his pants. “The storm washed away everything that might have told us where people went. There is a lot of ground to search, and only Rokahn and I to do it.”
I chew on my lip. Years of hiking these mountains, searching for magic folk, have given me an idea. “I think I know a way to help.”
He turns and looks at me. “Yes?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do. But here’s the thing. I have to go back to my home to do it. There are things there I need.”
He shakes his head. “No, it is not safe. The mountain is in disarray, and I would not be there to protect you.”
At least he doesn’t say something annoying, like ‘this is home now.’ “Bradoc,” I say. “This is exactly the kind of thing we were just talking about. I love that you want to keep me safe, but you also need to have faith that I can take care of myself when you aren’t around. You have to trust me.”
“But if you leave, how do I know that you’ll return? Especially after all the things you just said?”
“You don’t. That’s where the trust comes in. You have to believe I’ll come back, just as I have to believe you’ll come home every night after you’ve been out searching.”
He stares at me intently, something unfathomably in his silver-gray eyes. And then, as if solving some internal struggle, he nods.
“Very well. If you have a way to help find my people, I would be foolish not to accept it,” he says. “But you promise me you will return? That you will provide this aid? You will give me your word.”
I meet his serious gaze and nod. “I promise.”
