Page 5 of To Sway a Bard
She should have felt bad, but that was the thing about stealing—she never considered the fallout of her thievery, only the rush of excitement, the thrill that consumed her as she plotted out the ideal way to pull off a heist and left her calling card: a peacock-blue feather.
Zula always arrived early on location to spend a few hours watching and blending in. Unsurprisingly, the trolls used magic as a barrier around their village,which was why Zula had taken to the trees to enter instead of strolling in. If they sensed a break in the magic, they’d be wary, and she wanted to ensure they were completely unaware of her presence.
The trolls were civilized and peaceful. They lived in buildings made of logs with thatched roofs, cultivated crops and kept fruit orchards, the bounty used as trade with the kingdom. Aside from harvest days two times a year, they kept to themselves, and the citizens who lived in the vicinity were ordered not to disturb them.
A baby troll tripped over a pile of hay, giggling as it stumbled upright, only to fall again. A group of young trolls emerged from the jungle, nets filled with fish. They shouted and bragged, proud of their catch. A group of female trolls returned from foraging, laying out the plants they’d found on stones, grinding some and setting others aside. Everywhere Zula looked, she saw harmony, peace, friendship, and love. Their lives were peaceful, idyllic, and a twinge of jealousy poked at her.
She stole treasure, but the trolls had something intangible that no one could steal. They had each other.
Ripping her focus away from the families, she spied a structure overlooking the waterfall, a crisscross of branches that made out a tower, an altar, a place to worship. The jewel would be kept there. She didn’t even need to see it. The gang that hired her had described it: the size of her head, a heavy egg-shaped jewel encrusted with gold, silver, sapphires, diamonds, rubies. The trolls believed the priceless jewel protected their village, brought them luck and good fortune. Zula wondered if it was the source of their magic.
She knew little about enchantments, particularly those woven by trolls, but all kingdoms relied on some king of spells or wards to protect themselves from others. Stealing treasure upset the delicate balance of magic, Zula only knew that truth because of her magical ukulele.
Briefly, she wondered what the thieves would do with the jeweled egg. It would bring her immeasurable wealth and the kind of freedom she’d only dreamed about. She could retire from her lifestyle, lie by a river and fish, try her hand at baking delectable cinnamon buns, and go play at any tavern she pleased. The only problem was the fact that she didn’t know what she wanted. She lived for the thrillof the heist, and despite the danger, she still burned for adventure.
The sun was sinking in the sky when Zula opened the sack and unwrapped her ukulele. She swung her numb limbs and pressed her fingers against the strings. Warmth filled her as she closed her eyes and played. Not one of the fast-paced songs she sang in the taverns, but a slower, poetic song intended to lull the listeners to sleep. Tiny golden motes of magic hovered above her fingers as she played, and her confidence bloomed. As the light faded, she made out the shape of the trolls, stopping, sitting, sleeping. It wasn’t until she heard the rumble of a snore that she allowed the music to fade.
Zula swung down from the tree and jammed her feathered hat on her head. Tucking her knife into her belt, she dashed to the tower and climbed to the top, where the egg perched in a nest of silk. It was caged by wood, likely spelled by magic, but the music of the ukulele was potent,dispelling all magical traps for a matter of moments after the music played. Using her knife, Zula picked the lock. It came free with a satisfying whisper. Her fingers itched as she looked at the naked egg.
A rainbow of light skittered across the encrusted jewels as it glowed with its own inner light. A lustful ache pinched at her and her eyes watered. For the space of a moment, she wanted it for herself: the beauty, the jewels, the glistening magic of it all. What would it be like if she kept one of the priceless relics she stole? She had a den without treasures, but this was the ultimate prize.
With a defeated sigh, she dropped the sack over the egg. It took her a few tries to move it, straining as the heavy egg rolled into the sack. She tied the sack shut, realizing she wouldn’t be able to swing through the trees with it. Gritting her teeth, she bore the weight with one hand while she slipped a feather free, and placed it on the empty silk nest.
Gingerly, she made her way down the tower. By the time she walked out the door, she’d adjusted and was ready to run. She headed back toward the grove of trees as the glow of a crimson sunset settled around her. A lightness came over her, as it often didin the aftermath of a heist. Reaching for the rope she’d left by the tree, she started to swing up when two meaty hands closed around her waist.
The sack was snatched from her hands, and the next moment, she was airborne.
Only by sheer willpower did she keep a bloodcurdling scream from escaping her lips. Instead, she tucked her body into a ball, preparing for impact.
It came, hard.
A wall of mud rushing around her, a billow of dust engulfing her throat, and a sickening crack followed by a bloom of pain shooting up her leg. A shadow loomed over her, and she reached for her knife, ready to fight off the thieves who had tricked her.
Instead, she found herself looking at the impossible.
She’d played her ukulele. The magic should have put everyone in the vicinity to sleep, yet Zula found herself staring into the scowling face of a horned, red-spotted troll.
5
NEO
Neo was having a good day. A delightful day, in fact. After running into Zula—shockingly, without her hat or ukulele—he decided time was of the essence. Instead of returning to the village to warn his men, he took drastic action and did the unthinkable: strode right into the troll village and officially introduced himself.
One conversation led to another, but the trolls did not believe that the Blue-Feathered Bard was going to steal from them, which was how Neo found himself tied up and locked inside a tiny hut. Which was no bother. Give it time. The trolls would see that he was right. However, when he heard the music of the ukulele, he discovered the door was locked withtroll magic. Try as he might, there was no way to escape. What was more embarrassing was that he should have known spells to combat troll magic, but had neglected his studies because of the peace treaty.
Suddenly, the door to the hut burst open and a body was hurled inside. The door slammed, the individual grunted, and Neo straightened up, heart thudding as he took in the prone form of the Blue-Feathered Bard. He quickly swallowed down the grin that threatened to fill his face. His plan had worked. The trolls had listened, and Zula was his prisoner to bring in.
She sat up with another grunt, peering around the hut. When those fierce brown eyes landed on him, he tried to keep his heart from stuttering out. She was furiously beautiful. Her hair had come undone and waved around her shoulders, her feathered hat was askew, and her mouth contorted as she glared at him. Most glaringly, her ukulele was missing.
“What areyoudoing here?” Zula demanded.
Ah. That. He shrugged, wishing he’d thought of an answer earlier. “I got lost again, wandered into trollterritory, and they put me here until morning. What about you?”
She snorted, yanking at the rope that bound her wrists and ankles. “I’ll be off in a moment once I get these ropes undone. Tell me, what’s a farm boy like you doing getting on the bad side of trolls? They don’t lock people up for just any reason.”
Neo stiffened, insulted that she considered him a farm boy and troubled by the fact that his story was quickly unraveling.
“You tripped the magical barriers, didn’t you? How long have you been here?” Zula pointed at his bonds. “I left you hours ago. Tell me you’ve come up with a way to escape.”
