Page 29 of Vow of the Shadow King

She doesn’t move. If I hadn’t seen signs of life just a moment ago, I could almost swear she was nothing more than a lump of rock. Instinctively, I reach out again with my gods-gift, searching for a sense of her. I hit stone. Just stone. I lean in a little harder, hard enough to get the faintest squirming impression of . . . something . . .

“Guthakug.”

Her voice is so abrupt, I jump from my skin. Hastily, I recover myself and blurt, “Is . . . is that your name?”

“Guthakug.”

I clear my throat and make an attempt: “Guth-ah-kug?”It sounds limp on my tongue, without the proper resonance or rasp. I try again with more aggression.“Guthakug.”

The trolde woman shakes her head. The crevices of her lip rise and roll strangely, revealing a flash of diamond-hard teeth.“Guthakug, kurspari. Udth r'agrrak.”

She doesn’t sound friendly. Then again, nothing spoken in this rock-grinding tongue sounds friendly to my ear. I offer another uncertain smile. The grooves of her brow deepen, rolling down together so that her eyes nearly disappear. With a shake of her heavy head, she turns and stomps through the door. Her feet vibrate the ground in her wake.

“Thank you,Guthakug!”I call after her back.

No sooner does the maid vacate the doorway than another figure appears. Captain Hael, staring into the room, her face a mask of confusion. Shock radiates from her, strong enough to break through her barriers and send me stumbling back a pace.“Whatdid you say?” my bodyguard demands, fixing her stern eye on me.

“I, um . . .” I give my head a quick shake and draw myself a bit straighter. Hael is a truly intimidating presence, but I must learn to give as good as I get. “I thought perhaps I should begin to learn some names. As I am to be your king’s, erm, guest. For the time being.”

“Learn names?”

“Yes.” I nod at the still-open door through which the maid just disappeared. “Perhaps you don’t know her. She’sGuthakug.I think.”

“I think not!” Hael’s voice chokes a little. It takes me a moment to realize she’s struggling to swallow back laughter. “Ihopenot. Do you know what it is you’re saying?”

Warmth floods my cheeks. “Well, no.”

“Guthakugtranslates to . . . Well, there is no direct translation. The closest might behorse leavings.”

“Horse leavings? You mean—Oh!” I clap a hand to my mouth, as though I can somehow catch and stuff back the foul word I’ve just been determinedly trying to pronounce.

Hael, much to my surprise utters a bleating giggle. She looks almost as shocked at the outburst as I am and swiftly pulls her face under control. She can’t take it back, however. Neither can she hide that tiny glimmer of humor rolling out from behind her barriers. It’s a crack in her armor. A small one, perhaps, but a crack.

“Well,” I say, “I’ve picked a pretty place to begin my studies of troldish. Tell me, was my accent good at least?”

Hael’s eyes snap with another laugh wanting to escape. She shakes her head, however, and says firmly, “It does not matter, Princess. You have no need to refine your accent nor any reason to fraternize with the household staff. I will see to your needs for the duration of your stay, however long it may be.”

Something about the way she speaks makes my stomach dip. Has word come from Gavaria yet? From my father? I want to ask, want to barrage Hael with my questions. But something in her expression warns me not to. After all, I already know my father will not give in to Vor’s demands. If I don’t want to be tossed over the pommel of a morleth saddle and sent ignominiously back to Beldroth, I’m going to need to find a place for myself here in Mythanar.

The first step in that process could be making a friend.

Captain Hael is already backing out through the door, ready to resume her post in the passage. “A moment, Captain,” I say, and she pauses. I step across the room and take a seat at the table where the maid set the tea tray. My hands shake, but I manage to lift the pot, swirl, pour myself a cup all without spilling. “Tell me where I went wrong,” I say, blinking innocently up at the stern captain. “Was my intonation not guttural enough?Guthakug,”I try again, this time drawing the sound up from the depths of my gut.

Hael blinks, shocked all over again to hear such a word fall from my lips. She masks her expression, however, and offers only, “What if the princess picked a different word with which to begin her studies?”

“Very well.” I take a sip then lower the cup, breathing in the steam as it wafts under my nose. “How about something practical. Likehungry.”

Hael shoots me a narrow look. She knows what I’m trying to do. And she has no interest in letting a bond form between us. She doesn’t like me, might even hate me.

Still, I feel I have a fingerhold at least. I must grasp on tight. “Come now, Captain Hael. You know it will make your life easier if I’m not wholly dependant on you for every little thing. What if I wander off and end up fallen down a hole somewhere? It’s as likely as anything in this world of yours. At least if I’m able to cry,Hungry, hungry!I should be able to draw attention to my predicament.”

Hael’s jaw tightens. I can almost hear her wishing Iwouldgo lose myself down a dark hole somewhere. My mouth quirks in a half-smile. Somewhere beneath that tough, warrior exterior, there must be a kind side to her nature. Otherwise, I can’t see why Vor would depend on her so implicitly.

“Makrok,”she says suddenly.

I blink. It sounded almost like a bark. “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the word.Hungry. In troldish.Makrok.”

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