Page 7 of Enslaved

Khas comes to a stop before a great, uncarved wall of rock. A jagged cave mouth opens at the base which I recognize as the entrance to the low temple. Two boulders stand on either side of the opening. At a barked greeting from Khas, they unfold into looming guards in full armor. Their gazes fix not on Khas or me, but solely on the Prince. One of them snarls, flashing a sharp, diamond-hard tooth.

The Prince slowly lifts Sis from his shoulders and sets her down on the ground before him. Suddenly I wish we’d not brought the girl with us, though she at least should be safe down here, among her own kind. The Prince keeps his hands firmly on her shoulders as he calls out in trollish: “Grakol-dura!”

“Grazut orumum,”the left-hand guard growls in response, while his fellow adjusts his stance and shifts his heavy, skull-smashing club from one fist to the other.

Khas immediately moves in front of the Prince. He in turn speaks a stream of trollish to her. She shoots him a resentful glare before stepping out of the way once more. He offers the guards a too-wide smile, then speaks a stream of words I do not understand save for the name: “Umog Grush.”

The guards say nothing. They merely step closer together and cross their massive clubs. An effective and impenetrable wall. The Prince quirks an eyebrow. Another stream of foreign words rumbled in that trollish accent that makes him sound truly ferocious. But his demeanor is as nonchalant as ever. He lifts a hand from Sis’s shoulder to gesture vaguely in the air.

In that moment, Sis takes the opportunity to slip free of his hold. Before either of us can make a move, she darts right between the massive troll guards, ducking under their crossed clubs. They blink startled eyes, uncertain what just happened.

“Sis!” I cry and lunge several steps forward. The Prince grabs my elbow and yanks me back just as one of the trolls takes a ground-shaking step toward me. “No, wait!” I protest, twisting against the Prince’s hold. “Please, that’s my little girl!” I turn to the trolls, wishing I knew more of their language. “You’ve got to let me fetch her!”

“Kurspari,” the larger of the two trolls snarls, showing his teeth at me. They flash bright in the glow of Khas’s lantern. “Guthakug kuspari!”

The Prince draws me back against his side, pinning me there with one strong arm. I want to fight him, but something in the tension of his body tells me now is the time to go still. He doesn’t look at me, but speaks to the trolls, his tone sharp and biting. The trolls cast each other looks. “What’s going on?” I hiss, my jaw tight.

“They don’t believe the child is yours. They’re inclined to keep her, to send her back to the mines and the service of the Deeper Dark.”

“No!” I turn to the trolls again, angry now. “You can’t just toss her away to your dark god like she doesn’t matter! She is precious to me! She is . . . is . . .” I stop, feeling the futility of my human words against those hard troll ears. I shoot a desperate glance up at the Prince.

“Ghorza borug,” he says in a low voice for my ears only. “Try that.”

“Will it work?”

“It can’t hurt.”

I turn to the guards again. “She isghorza borug,” I say, trying to growl the words with all the deep, grinding intensity of a troll.

Once more the guards exchange glances. Their faces are blank slates to my gaze, but they lean their heads close together and confer in low rumbles.

“What did I say?” I whisper.

“It meansdiamond daughter,” the Prince responds. “But in their tongue, it carries more weight. The full meaning doesn’t translate to your language.” He looks down at me, meeting my gaze. “It only matters if you truly meanit.”

My heart hammers in my throat. I’m very aware of the Prince’s arm around me, holding me in place as though afraid I’ll try to rush the guards again. He’s so strong; even beneath the embroidered sleeve of his fine coat, I feel the corded power of his muscles. I wouldn’t be able to break his grip if I tried. But I don’t want to try. I want to lean into him, to rest in his strength. I want to let him comfort and protect me.

What foolishness is this? I shake my head, brow tightening. Long ago, I learned it never pays to look to someone else for shelter. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had to defend myself. I’m not about to let my guard down. Not now. Not ever.

“Let go of me,” I mutter. Then add a somewhat ungracious: “Please.”

At once, his arm is withdrawn. A cold shiver ripples across my body where his warmth had been a moment before.

Just then, the two guards part. One of them stomps away into the darkness of the temple. The other stands firm, so immobile he might as well be a lump of solid granite. “What’s happening?” I whisper.

“Unless I’m much mistaken, the one has sent the other to inquire after the low priestess’s will.” The Prince heaves a breath and glances around us. “Let’s hope Umog Grush is in a hospitable frame of mind.”

I let my gaze follow his. Many eyes surround us now, glinting and glittering in the glow of Khas’s lantern. So many large, shadowy forms, all vaguely threatening. My heart jumps to my throat. Have I put us in terrible danger? For nothing?

A thud of heavy feet signals the return of the second guard. He emerges, whispers something to his fellow. Then together they face us. The guard on the left—who seems to be the superior of the two—grumbles something in trollish.

“Ah!” The Prince beams a smug smile down at me. “It seems we are to be welcomed to Grush’s craggy old bosom after all. Khas!” The captain shoots him a resentful glance. “Stay here and watch our backs, will you?”

“I don’t like it, Prince,” Khas growls.

“I’m well aware, brave captain. But take comfort: the temple rules should prevent them from bashing our skulls in while we’re on sacred ground.” With this word of encouragement, he turns to me and sweeps his arm broadly. “After you, Darling.”

The dark of the inner temple is even heavier than I remembered. The atmosphere is more oppressive as well now that I’m aware of the risk we’ve taken by venturing so far from the safety of the palace.

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