Page 82 of Lost in the Dark

Very well.Her grandmother had taught her to never to strike discord with those who worked in a great house. But if one of those workers wanted discord, it was past time to oblige.

She offered his lordship her sweetest expression and cupped her hands before her on the table. The Chastry priest tasked with finding this house a wife had chosen her for her fair complexion and fine hair, so she’d use her so-called beauty to advantage. She slid her arms forward slightly, displaying her bosom. “I’m grateful to have pleased my lord. I understand this estate was where the old kings came to hunt, so yesterday I focused on tending your trophy space.”

Not that any recent rulers bothered to come to the northern moors, let alone hunt them.

“Good, good,” he grunted, shoveling another spoonful of soup into his massive mouth. “This house is the birthplace of the north’s true strength. These walls are home to aking.” Bits of stew sprayed across the table as his voice rose. “One day, they’ll remember their place.”

“I’m sure they will,” she demurred. “I will help that happen.”

He snorted into his bowl and his spoon scraped across the empty. “How?”

From the corner of her eye, she caught Enulf give a sharp shake of his head.

Her heart kicked at the warning—yet she was out of time. She slipped her remaining bread into her pocket and lifted her chin.

“Through service,” she announced. “I hunted today.”

“What?” His head jerked up, eyes boring into her.

She stilled under his gaze, shoulders pressing into the carved wood of her chair-back.

His massive lips pulled into a fearsome scowl. “A woman’s place is to tend the home.”

“Of course, my lord. I have no intention of neglecting my duties.” Beneath the table, she dug her fingers into her knees and prayed for strength. Her husband was a man who respected strength. Surely if she showed some, he’d understand. “I’ve been informed this household eats what it hunts, so I simply thought—”

“Do not test me.” He slammed his fists onto the table, making plates rattle and ale slosh over the edge of his cup.

Her heart pounded against the stiff lines of her bodice. The necklace burned hot through the worn fabric, and she somehow knew it was a warning. But what good was a warning when she’d no alternatives?

She lifted her chin. “I have no wish to test you, only to be a good mistress to this house. I will cook and clean and serve for as long as my days allow. All I ask is to have a little meat with my meal.”

“Meat?” He lunged to his feet, firelight contorting his features. “Hah!”

“Don't you know, girl?” Gude chuckled.

“Our meat isn’t for you,” Rathbytten said. “Ourwaysaren’t for you.”

He planted his hands on the table and leaned forward, looming over her like a bear before its prey. Huge and hungry, fingers large enough to strangle the horses that plowed the village fields. Shadows rippled across his figure, and the pink of his skin seemed to fade into smoke.

His lips parted into a vicious grin. “It’s time you appreciated the truth of your situation.”

And his grin kept spreading.

Mouth expanding to an impossible size, until he could have swallowed the prize pumpkin from her neighbor’s garden. He seemed to grow yet again in size, and ivory tusks—larger than a boar’s—emerged from the corners of his mouth. The final shreds of pink evaporated, leaving behind the dirty green she’d seen in her childhood tales—the tired-grass color she’d never expected to find in life.

The Chastry thought they’d driven the monsters from these moors, but the monsters had simply hidden where none would look—in a respectable, remote manor.

She gasped. “Troll country.”

He gave a terrible laugh. “Aye.”

Her gaze slid to Enulf of its own volition, and she swallowed back the stupid cry of surprise that tried to escape her lungs. Of course his skin was the purple of the heather that insisted on growing in their fields, that weather-worn shade that promised storms on the horizon. Tusks protruded from his mouth, and he too had increased in size.

Yet his eyes were the same, the soft gray of morning mist and full of pity.

She hated that the most.

“Do you know what trolls demand?”

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