Troll-y Yours (18 page)

“Absolutely. Nothing’s changed.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” She turned to leave, then paused. “You’re very important to us, Eli. There shouldn’t be any problem helping you shoot straight to the top.”

Just what he wanted to hear. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

In the manner she arrived, Pennelope left without word. The vines parted between her hands, and swallowed her up as she passed through.

Eli leaned back on the log, crossed his ankles, and watched the goings-on at the palace again. Whether or not his parents approved of Ella, the fact that she hadn’t been home should have them searching the woods for her.

A group of Centaurs in true form went by, their muscular arms looped around their Centaur females. Eli didn’t know where his sister was exactly, but he had a damn good idea.

Twenty-Two

A
leksander trotted down the corridor, dodging clerks and military personnel going about their business. Anxious, while fucking butterflies waged a war inside his stomach. He snapped an impatient salute to the soldier standing guard at the jade arches in front of the marble staircase.

Preparations were underway everywhere in the palace. Although morale ran high, Centaurs with solemn expressions moved with purpose, finalizing personal affairs or collecting their gear.

Tonight was the night, the final battle against the rebels—if the gods were willing.

Due in part to the intel Ella had gathered, a march to execute a full assault, stood mere hours away. His hooves clattered on the polished stairs as he took them three at a time. Time flew by excessively fast. In less than an hour, Queen Savella expected a briefing in her third floor office.

Ella’s stallroom was on the second floor, and that’s where he headed first. It’d been over twenty-four hours since he last saw her, and he didn’t think his heart could take much more.

Now, he understood the harsh farewells his men faced with their females and foals.

Foot traffic increased on the dormitory floor and busy Centaurs were everywhere. Mares with mournful eyes watched him trot by, some having lived through the Great War. He nodded to those he knew…wondering if he’d see them again.

War was like that.

For the past two hours while working out details, he rehearsed in his mind what he would say. He’d open with Hippy’s report that Ella’s mother all but kowtowed to the royal messenger upon receiving Savella’s note. That bit of news came as no surprise after learning of the sow’s character, nor did her immediate request to visit her daughter come as a shocker—the latter of which the messenger denied with extreme satisfaction.

Then, he’d kiss Ella until she couldn’t remember her name, and take with him into battle the sweet memory of her soft lips and bedroom eyes. She would be the strength behind each swing of his sword.

He fought for the crown, the kingdom, their way of life.

Aleksander would fight for Ella.

No time for lovemaking, but plenty of time to soak up her essence, Alek stopped outside her room and straightened his combat shirt. Like popcorn kernels over an open flame, his anxiety jumped all over the place. Alek reflected inward and chuckled to himself. Once again, he stood outside Ella’s door, needing a full shot of smooth Kentucky whiskey to steady his nerves. 

Where was the piss and vinegar, when he needed it? “Enough with the hoof stomping,” he told himself. “Knock on the door, already.”

He raised his hand before he could over-think it and rapped twice. When Ella opened the door and smiled, the stress and worry of his day melted away.

“Come on in.” She opened the door wider and stepped back. “My friend and I were just catching up.”

Seated at the freestanding table sat a blonde Wood Nymph he was acquainted with.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he greeted with a smile and nod in the guest’s direction. He then explained to Ella, “Serenity and I have met before.”

Before the marriage ceremony last year, Patience made a deal with Rhycious to gain his help in finding Serenity, her missing sister. Their working together led to Rhy rescuing the kidnapped Nymph, and he and Patience falling in love.

Aleksander wasn’t aware that Ella knew the free-spirited girl, but somehow it made sense.

Serenity hopped off her stool and gave Ella a hug. “You have better looking company than me, so I’m out of here.”

Ella’s gaze trailed after her friend. “You don’t have to leave yet, do you?”

“Two’s company and three’s a crowd. I’ll stop by again soon. Tah-tah, Alek.”

“Serenity, stay indoors tonight and don’t go wandering around. There might be trouble south of the falls,” Alek warned.

Typical of the bohemian Nymph, she smirked and sashayed out the door. “Who says I’m going home?”

After the door’s latch clicked shut, Alek turned and smiled at Ella.

Only he was met by crossed arms and a tapping foot which said she wasn’t as happy to see him.

“What’s wrong, Sweet-thing?”

“Let me guess, you shagged Serenity, too.”

“What? I…no. I know her—”

“Oh, I just bet you
know
her. How long ago was it, Al? A month? A year, maybe two years?”

“What in
Tartarus
are you talking about? I’ve never had sex with that Wood Nymph. Pan’s hooves, she’s Rhy’s—”

Ella slashed the air with her hand. “She blonde, beautiful, and has a figure even the gods would drool over. Of course you did her.” The paperback she held in her hand, slammed to the table’s surface.

While he normally avoided such demonstrations of female possessiveness in the past, he reminded himself that this time jealousy was a good thing. It showed that the person who held the resentment, also held romantic feelings.

The dawning realization brought a smile to his frowning lips. Females loved his smile. “Ella, I never had a relationship with Serenity. And I didn’t come here to fight.”

She gave him a stony look. “Then why are you here?”

His heart beat a little faster; his nerves drew a little tighter. “I’m here because I wanted to see you. Because I missed you.”

Didn’t she miss me?
It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since they last shared a kiss.

Ella side-stepped to place the table between them.

A self-protective gesture, he got that.

Though, her folded arms said she didn’t believe him.

“You miss me, huh?” She turned to face the oil painting of galloping Centaurs on the wall, and grimaced. Marching ahead of the horse-men, forced by the violent tips of their lances, Trolls walked in shredded clothing and defeated faces.

After a moment, she swung her gaze back to pierce him with glittering emerald shards. “How could you possibly miss me, when you have females spread across all the sectors willing to lie down at a moment’s notice? You missed me? Yeah, right.”

What in the hell was going on?
Confusion stepped aside, so anger could take its place. Before he let loose his Centaur pride, Alek paused and contemplated the fallout. Better to retreat, regroup, and think things through.

Ella remained silent.

He glanced at his watch—what a waste of perfectly good time. “Look, I have to meet with Savella in five minutes.” He sighed, disappointed in the way things turned out. “Thank you again, for helping the Centaur kingdom. Because of what you uncovered, we’re marching at midnight to intercept the rebels.”

Her silence continued as he spoke.

Turning toward the door, each hoof weighed as much as a boulder. For a moment, he paused and spoke over his shoulder, “I came over to….” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll talk to you later.”

As quick as he could, Alek left the room, shutting the door behind him with a solid thud. Discouraged and a little heartbroken, he dragged his hooves up to the third floor.

*~*~*

For the third time, Ella tried to read the same page in her romance book. Concentration at an all time zilch, she was ready to explode into a supernova. Tired of pretending to read, she tossed the book aside and rolled off the bed to her feet.

Al’s sad face haunted her. Dark circles smudged under his tired brown eyes, and the sharp planes of his cheekbones were pale under his tan. His long-sleeved tee-shirt, a size too small—which she thought looked perfect on him—had hugged his broad shoulders and snugged tight across his chest. Wildly disheveled, his hair spiked up in different directions, as if he’d run his fingers through the short strands several hundred times.

Physically, he’d looked like hell and his charcoal grey aura indicated his weariness.

But after a day’s separation, Ella didn’t care. She craved Aleksander’s touch, more than she cared about his reputation.

Stalking to the bathroom, she grabbed her palace-issued hairbrush and yanked a few angry strokes. Green jealousy had reared its ugly head and swallowed her whole. Al’s quick smile for Serenity had twisted her gut. And getting her panties in a bunch had run him out of the room.

Hell, everyone had a past.

Even her.

Never, not once, had Al held her Troll nationality against her in prejudice. Yet she couldn’t move past his playboy reputation. Why?

Setting the brush down, she leaned both hands on the counter and stared down at the speckled granite pattern with unfocused eyes. She needed to apologize.

A fight, perhaps a battle, was only a few hours away. She’d never forgive herself if she sent him away and he returned injured—or worse.

“By the gods!” Ella cursed into the mirror. Tired of pretending the bad things in life would eventually go away, she decided to change the outcome of her fate. A few steps and she jerked the outer door open, closing it once she stood in the hall.

At the end of the hallway, a couple chatty housekeepers descended the palace staff staircase to the third floor, and she jogged to reach it.

Carved rock steps, worn to a dip in the center from centuries of pounding feet, took her to a landing, and then a second set of stairs. At the top, Ella rested with her hand holding the balustrade and caught her breath.

Here the chiseled walls were covered with antiquated tapestries. The majestic scenes ranged from a Centaur warrior rearing in battle with an arrow notched to bow, to a lovely pond lined with Wood Nymphs and reclining mares and foals. There were Water Nymphs splashing in play and Minotaurs carrying huge trays of food upon their heavily muscled shoulders.

As she walked toward the single soldier who stood guard in the corridor, Ella glanced at the remaining tapestries. Each adornment was an exquisite handmade piece of history.

And not a Troll in sight.

Depicted was every other mythic creature imaginable, even the elusive flying horse.

Guess her people didn’t qualify in making it to the third floor yet.

The guard stood at the only door on the left. He adjusted his stance and faced her when she drew near, the movement swinging his shoulder length hair that was the color of the river after a rain.

The top of his tall lance went from straight up, to straight out. “State your business.”

Abruptly, Ella stopped before impaling herself on what looked to be a razor-sharp metal tip. “I need to speak with Al—uh, Kempor Aleksander, please.”

“He’s busy and you have no authorization to be here. You’ll have to leave.” The spearhead indicated for her go back the same way she’d come.

“I know he’s busy, but if you’ll just tell him—”

“Are you daft, Troll? I’m not interrupting his meeting with the queen for you.” The guard took a menacing step forward.

Ella jumped back, eyeing the bad end of his weapon.

“Do you think that whatever you have to say is more important than the queen?”

A chill gripped her neck and slowly traveled lower. Ella recognized the sneer, the soldier’s look of contempt, the derogatory tone of his voice. Every day of her cub youth was filled with the same hateful scorn from other mythic children. Here stood a relatively young Centaur, who hadn’t moved past the outdated notions of racism.

Stomach tied in knots, her courage leeched away.

All the old feelings of inadequacy bubbled up—the hurt, and the consuming wish for non-confrontation. Tears stung her eyes, and she turned away before the hateful guard saw how badly his words affected her.

At the staircase, she looked back to see him shaking his head at her, as if she were defective in the brain. Not knowing what else to do, she fled down the steps, intent on hiding in her room.

Back at her room and out of breath, Ella opened the door and stood for a moment, her hand on the cold brass knob. She dashed the moistness from her eyes and grabbed hold of a new thought. Serenity’s visit couldn’t have been more auspicious. It was high time she went with her Wood Nymph friend to find Mr. Sean and located some housing of her own.

Loneliness be damned.

Twenty-Three

S
ullen darkness shrouded the gathered squadron of four hundred armed Centaurs. Not a glint of moonlight shone overhead, as if the midnight sky held its inky breath. Aleksander squinted through the trees, wishing for Troll vision to see past the shadowed vales.

It was more than the prickle that raised the hairs of his neck. In the silence, something was wrong.

Fanned out in a circular entrapment on either side of his flanks, Centaur warriors loyal to the crown awaited his command. Alek’s eyes worked to pierce the darkness, reaching with his senses to scan the rock vicinity ahead, all remained quiet.

Too quiet.

In both true and human forms, the confident squadron had marched to the designated location as described to Ella in the salon, leaving a minimal three platoons behind to stand guard at the palace.

Harsh breathing met his ears; steam from their breaths fogged the air. He closed his eyes and relaxed his tail, concentrating on the sounds around them, filtering out those of his shifting men and the drifting scent of the forest.

Faintly, voices rose from the area they would soon descend upon.

As if someone walked over his grave, a shiver trekked along his elongated back. Untrained, the Protectorates should make more of a racket. Yet, it remained quiet.

Euphoria of capturing the rebel leaders and bringing down the faction leaked away. Uncertainty clawed his gut. Not known for their stealth, there should be chatter, loud voices, the creak and scrape of metals.

Instead, female laughter whispered through the trees.

Where the hell is everyone?

Leaves crunched, and fast feet moving his direction came from ahead and slightly to the right. Low-lying mist blanketed the forest floor, adding to the dark tension. Bursting forth to scatter the haze, a human shape resembling that of a child approached. When the person neared, a glow of blond hair cast over muscular shoulders came into view, a crossbow gripped in his hand.

“Bomani, over here,” Alek whispered.

The Centaur changed course and sprinted to Aleksander’s side. The fact the soldier turned his back to the unseen enemy told more than his unspoken report.

Chest heaving, Bomani shook his head. “There’s no sign of the rebels.”

Too dark to see an expression, his tone said it all.

Dammit!
Alek stared into the shadowed face of his elite warrior. “Are we early, or late?”

“Neither,” Bomani replied flatly. “There’s no outward sign of a gathering. Only a handful of young mythics, partying and getting drunk.”

If rebels had assembled, the forest would let them know. Flattened grass, broken twigs, perhaps some trash left behind. The prickle on his neck grew to become a lead ball in his gut. Alek searched the darkness around them for
what
, he didn’t know. “What the hell?”

“I overheard females who’d also thought there’d be a gathering tonight. The mythics here are groupies or something. They came to check out the scene.”

Before over-reacting to what his instinct already knew, Aleksander forced himself to recalculate and run the information through his brain once more. The dark night in its new moon phase was exact. The location given to Ella was correct as verified by the party crowd brave enough to have shown up.

Aleksander ground his molars and cocked a hind leg. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward, blast both hooves out behind him, and connect with a solid object. Over the past year, the rebels had feinted and parried, but never outwitted the Royal Military.

Until tonight.

So if they weren’t here, then where—

Oh gods!

Dread sliced as a lightning strike through his equine body, threatening to cut off his air. Aleksander stiffened his four legs to give him strength. Pain in his chest blossomed as the worst possible thoughts came to mind.
The palace. The weaponry storage rooms.

The very idea squeezed his lungs into action. Would the rebels be so bold as to try for Queen Savella herself?

Ella….

“To the palace!” Alek’s voiced cracked like thunder in the quiet woods. “We’ve been setup.”

Wheeling around, his forelegs leaped over Bomani, who wisely ducked out of harm’s way.

*~*~*

Ella folded the jeans in her hands and added it to the pile inside her borrowed overnight bag.

The nice female Centaur a few doors down seemed to understand her need to flee the palace. Bumping into her outside of the stallroom, Adelpha took one look at Ella’s tear-stained face and agreed to help in any way she could, starting with the clothes bag.

Almost imperceptibly, the earth beneath the soles of her bare feet vibrated. She set a hand on the bag as objects around the room began to tremble: the glass candy dish on the nightstand, the borrowed shoes on the closet floor, the mirror above the dresser. The communal rattling crescendoed to a blunt roar, and she had to steady a wall picture or run the risk of it crashing to the floor.

Packing to leave the palace had frazzled her nerves. Now, she jumped at every little sound. It was enough to send her pounding heart into overdrive and push her over the edge.

Seconds later, heavy hoof beats drummed outside the door, as someone tore down the length of the hall. Then, sounds of more footfalls, and a female’s scream rang out.

Ella rubbed her arms to erase the goose bumps and calm herself. When the tremors underfoot ended, she quickly zipped the clothes bag with shaky fingers and carried it to the table. Tiptoeing to the door, she leaned in to hear the commotion on the other side.

Curses of males and the sharp clang of metal rang out. Something heavy hit the door full force.

The boom from it scared the crap out of her. Startled, Ella jumped back and heard the object gradually slide to the floor. The soldiers must be back from their rebel hunt, she told herself. After parading off to the assembly point and capturing the defiant mythics, the warriors were no doubt celebrating their victory.

In the center of the room, feeling marginally better, she took one last look around. Against the wall, the six-drawer dresser sat empty, nothing left on top. A drawer perched open and she pushed it shut with two fingers. She’d made her bed that morning, though the stall cleaner was due to come by and strip the sheets.

The fancy borrowed clothes Kempor Hippolyte had lent her were hanging in the closet, along with a note of gratitude she’d written earlier. Shoes were lined up on the floor, a bit cockeyed from the reverberations.

The flat strap of the heavy overnight bag dug into her shoulder, she carried her purse and the book bag in the crook of her other elbow. Time was awasting and speed-dates were awaiting. Money wouldn’t be made by itself. Handsome Centaurs were best left to live the palace life, and this Troll needed to get back to Boronda.

It was as if the Earth called to her, to burrow beneath, to soak up the minerals within. “Good-bye, Centaur palace. It’s been a nice change of pace.”

Outside the door, the thud of many feet continued up and down the hall. Inside, Ella turned the knob, exterior pressure caused the door to fly open—and she screamed.

A centaur warrior in true form flopped forward at her feet. His bearded, sweaty face pulled into a tight grimace, both hands clutching his bloody girth. The noise in what was a normally quiet palace seemed as out of place as the male on the floor.

“Help me.”

“What happened? Who did this to you?” Horrified, Ella dropped all three bags and knelt for a closer look—then immediately became squeamish.

Muddy brown auras swirled above his heart, indicating a life-threatening injury. If pale pink emerged and made contact, his fate would be complete.

“Hold on.” Ella looked around, then ran into the bathroom and ripped a bath towel off the rack.

Oh gods, oh gods!
Racing back to the soldier, she pressed the towel against his wound. He let out a loud, mournful groan. A pool of thick red covered the slate floor beneath him, mixing with the cut bluegrass and soaking the spiny blades.

Nicks and old scars covered the Centaur’s sweat-streaked face. This wasn’t the male’s first season in battle. What was left of his flattened nose turned a right angle.

“You need a healer.” Panicked, she looked up and down the hall, hoping someone would help them. Sounds of others fighting echoed in the corridor, though she saw no one from where she sat crouched next to the injured man.

Minotaurs with long handled axes trotted down the hall, their upper body protected with some type of leather. Crisscrossed over the leather, they wore a harness laden with knives that gleamed in deadly menace. Their hooves beat the sharp rock floor like tom-tom drums from another era. Thankfully, the bulls ignored them as they passed by.

Why were Minotaurs in the palace? What the hell is going on?

“Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

“No!” The Centaur coughed, blood spattered the front of his tactical vest. “Not—safe.”

“I’ll be careful, and I’ll bring back help.” She swiveled her ears to the catch the sound of someone unseen in desperate pain. Their cry of agony clutched her soul. In the back of her throat, the fear bubbled up.

A mob of fighting males careened around the hallway corner. Grunting and cussing as their weapons slashed, they fought their way toward Ella and the injured soldier.

Trolls stood with Wood Nymphs, Satyrs beside them, all battling the Centaur military. Three ganged up on one unfortunate Centaur. Palace soldiers swung swords and fists. Warriors grappled and kicked hind hooves to defend themselves.

To avoid the flying weapons that barreled down on them like a twisting tornado, Ella acted fast. Bending low, she grabbed the wounded male under the arms and dug in her heels to drag him backward, into her room. At nearly thirteen hundred pounds, the Centaur wouldn’t budge.

His moans grew louder, the fighters drew nearer. A
ping
of metal ricocheting off the rocks above her head frightened her as much as the whiz of flying arrows.

Panicked and torn, she realized she’d have to leave him to protect herself.
Oh gods…what should I do?

On the heels of the stark horror of leaving the poor Centaur to face the fate of the gods, came undiluted guilt. Sharp, painful, and remorseful.

“I’ll get help,” Ella repeated. “And you’ll be okay.”

“Search down that corridor, I’ll take the one up ahead.” At the shout of a familiar voice, she turned her head toward the opposite end of the hall. Eli, armed with a short sword, streaked past in the cross corridor.
What in Tartarus is he doing here?

The growling mass of swinging swords rumbled less than three true Centaur lengths away.

Ella flicked her gaze to the collapsed soldier at her feet, praying he had only passed out and not died. His aura showed green, an indication of stress, not the black shroud of death.

Soaked crimson, the white towel pressing his stomach drew a grisly reminder of what was happening around her. Utter terror scrambled her thoughts. She couldn’t afford a mistaken decision. Screaming wasn’t an option.

No time left. Two Centaur lengths away from sharp flying objects, Ella leaped to her feet and took off after Eli. He could help pull the soldier into her room. Besides, he wouldn’t know his way around the palace. Not that she knew the tunnels like Al, but she could find a healer for the soldier, and then lead her brother outside to safety.

Then, they could both escape the madness.

On the balls of her feet, Ella sprinted down the hall. At the corner she glanced back, relieved to see the Centaurs gain the upper hand and steer clear of the hurt soldier on the floor.

Faced forward again, she saw Eli’s bare feet moving lightning quick toward military housing. She followed as swiftly as possible. “Eli!”

A group of heavily armed men swerved around the corner. The sounds of their raucous fighting echoed off the rock walls, drowning out her voice. She didn’t know where the exits were in this section of the underground palace, only the location of Al’s stallroom corridor.

The same corridor Eli turned down.

Does he know where he’s going?

Instead of barreling on and following, Ella stopped at the bend and let her backside hug the rock wall. As if a Minotaur were strapped to her shoulders, her dread was so great it added to her growing emotional baggage. Swords clashed somewhere unknown and increased her rapid breath. A male voice cried out, then abruptly stopped mid-scream.

Sweat trickled between her breasts, her mind spun with all she’d seen and heard.

While her pulse sprinted a race, she grabbed the rock wall and leaned to spy on Eli down the hall. He jammed a metal stick into a door lock and repeatedly struck the end with his palm.

Why would her brother break into someone’s room?
Ella stepped from the wall to jog down the corridor, intent on grabbing the
Golden Child
and getting them the heck out of Centaur hell.

Unexpectedly, a life-force of its own came out of nowhere. It threw her against the sharp-edged rock wall and knocked the air from her lungs. Pain stabbed into her back, strong hands held her by the hair and throat.