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Page 18 of A Darkness So Sweet (The Kingdom Below #1)

Chapter Eighteen

MAIA

Maia wasn’t certain now what she’d expected Trollveggen to be, but it wasn’t this. A hollow mountain, with clouds in the sky and stars on the ceiling. This was a different world and she couldn’t stop herself from wandering around with her mouth hanging open like an absolute fool.

But she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. Her mind had no room for those thoughts when she was just drinking in all the differences that she had never expected to find. This place was beyond beautiful. It was like a fairytale, or some myth that had appeared out of the pages of a book. She’d never thought she would ever see a place like this.

Which made it hard to really focus on the reasons she should have been terrified. There were trolls everywhere. But, while she was aware of them, they were so much taller than her it was easy to just wander among them without being noticed herself. Some of them had surely stared at her, of course, but she’d been more focused on observing the very world that unfolded at her feet.

Now she was staring at a massive door that was far larger than she was. The handle for it came up to her chest, and she’d have to reach high to even use it. Strange, to think that she was going to have to reach up to open a door.

“My new home,” she murmured, before nodding her head. “I’ve only lived in one place my entire life—the house my father bought from my grandfather. It has been in my family for generations.”

“That’s the same as this house. Every time it changes clan hands, it receives a new carving. That’s why you see the bear and the tiger claws.” He reached for the handle, and Maia noticed he hesitated as well. Maybe he was just as nervous as she was.

Even though it made her feel a little odd, she put her hand on top of his. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” she said. “It’s a home. And while it might be unfamiliar right now, maybe someday I’ll think of it as mine.”

A shadow passed in front of his eyes and she wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. She wasn’t very good at reading this man. Normally, she was very good at knowing what was going through someone’s head. It had been a great skill to have when working with her floral customers, but unfortunately she hadn’t managed to transfer that ability to her marriage yet.

Ragnar opened the door and thrust her into the house without any preamble, as if he still didn’t know how to manage his strength around her. Stumbling in, Maia blinked her eyes as wisps flared to life. They were in a small parlor, she realized. Yet again, her mind had run ahead of her. She’d thought they were going into a cave. Of course, that was the reasonable thought. They were in a mountain, after all.

But this room was very clearly a parlor. Yes, the walls were made out of stone. Yet someone had carved small bricks so it looked like it wasn’t stone at all. There were even carved windows. Sills with beautiful arches that led only to a shallow recess. But there were balls of wisps there to make it almost look like there was sunlight on the other side. A very thick carpet made her feet entirely silent as she stepped a bit more into the room. There was a large stone mantle to her right, carved with the images of foxes chasing each other, and thick embroidered chairs that surrounded it. It was a cozy space, filled with blue light that made everything look a little less vivid than she thought it might be in the sun.

Awkwardly, Ragnar stepped around her and gestured for her to continue down a hall. “The wisps will light themselves as you pass them.”

“Oh.”

She wasn’t sure how to feel about the wisps. How did they know she was coming? Did they have eyes? Were they actually looking for her or did they just react to movement? Or wind?

But as she walked down the hallway, she found herself captivated by so much else. The walls here were carved, too. She paused, staring up at a bear that was so realistic she could see the individual hairs on its form. It became a story as she drifted forward. The bear left fur in the mud, and out of which a troll crawled. It was massive, with fur on its shoulders and large fangs. The terrifying creature then met another troll, who took his hand and led him into a cave.

She stopped next to a depiction of troll children, tracing her fingers over the chubby cheeks of the first one. “You and Gunnar?”

“No, my family has always had two boys.” He shrugged. “It is the way of my family line. We’ve always sought out troll wives, rather than needing to find them husbands.”

She felt some of the blood drain from her face. Two boys? It was already hard enough to think about this as a marriage, let alone knowing that she was likely to have two babies.

Babies. She’d never even considered it, at least not yet. She had so much she wanted to do before she had children, even though she knew there was limited time for her to create those children.

Ragnar nudged her. “The kitchen is over here.”

He pushed open a stone wall that she now realized was a door. It had rectangular carvings around it, so she should have assumed it opened. The stone was so well oiled that it was almost soundless as it glided over the floor and revealed a room beyond. There was a large table in the center, with plenty of cabinets made out of a pale blonde wood. A strange metal contraption curved out of one of them, but she only spared that a few moments of mind before she noticed the massive stove.

It was longer than she was tall, with three doors in which to put wood and a massive pipe that went right into the wall and disappeared into the stone. He must have noticed her looking, because Ragnar cleared his throat.

“When you said the mountain looked like it was breathing sometimes? That’s usually when the trolls are cooking. A small amount of smoke most people wouldn’t notice, but sometimes we celebrate with food and that’s when there’s usually quite a lot of smoke coming out of the mountain.”

Her mouth dropped open, but then she grinned. “I knew it was breathing.”

“Exhaling,” he corrected. She caught the small smirk on his lips before he turned to draw her down the hallway again.

“Semantics.”

“Which are important when one is speaking of a magic mountain.” He stopped at the end of the hallway. There was a massive bear carved here as well. It stood on its back legs, glaring down at anyone who walked toward it. But beside Ragnar was a small fox carved into the wall with butterflies dancing around its whiskers. It stared up at the bear without fear. “This is your room,” he said.

He nudged the door open, and Maia felt all the breath leave her lungs.

The moment the door opened, yellow wisps burst to life. Not blue, like the others she’d seen so far, but yellow like the brightest beam of the sun. It was a sparse room, filled with very few belongings. Just a single plush bed with a yellow and green quilted blanket. A wardrobe in the corner was made out of sturdy oak, and would be more than enough room to put her things. If she had any.

But there were four windows carved here. Each of them ended in a delicate point, with carved squares down them to look like they were windows revealing a world beyond. The wisps that gathered there were so bright, it felt like she was outside.

Maia pressed her hands to her chest, wonder filling every ounce of her body. “Oh, Ragnar. It’s perfect.”

The floor wasn’t covered with woven rugs, but thicker sheepskins, so when she stepped barefoot on the soft skins, her toes immediately warmed. He pointed to a hearth in the corner. “Would you like a fire? I assume you’re rather cold.”

“I’m used to the cold. Ever since my father died, I’ve realized that I’m rather shit at starting fires.” She pressed her hands to her mouth. “I apologize. Swearing isn’t lady-like.”

He arched his brow. “You’re married to a troll, Maia. Swear all you fucking like.”

An unlady-like laugh escaped her mouth before she contained it. Well, she didn’t know what to do with that. She’d been a lady her entire life, because that was what everyone expected from her. To know he didn’t have the same rules?

She sank onto the edge of the bed and watched her husband crouch in front of the fireplace. She was suddenly very aware of her state of dress in this grand house. It was far easier to be fine with the wildness of her looks when they were in the middle of a forest. Maia could justify the tears in her clothing and the dried blood as simply something to expect from such a wild journey. But here, with a fine rug underneath her feet and a quilt beneath her bottom, she felt rather inadequate.

In comparison, somehow Ragnar still fit in. Though he was clothed in little more than leather pants, the blocky way his thighs bulged as he crouched or the sharp edges of his features made it appear as though this was where he belonged. The rough stone and the harsh shadows—all of it fit him.

She wasn’t all that certain where it left her.

She curled her fingers in her lap and waited until the fire was roaring. He stood, and she noticed he pressed a hand against his lower back as he did so. Was his back hurting? She knew he shouldn’t have carried her that long, the stubborn man.

But when he turned, she would never have known there was a single thing sore on his body. He looked strong and capable and so other that it was hard not to notice their differences.

He took a step toward her and her mind fractured with anxiety. What was he going to do next? She was on a bed. Was this their bed? Did he expect her to share it with him? He’d said this was her room, but they were married, after all.

“Your tattoos,” she blurted. “What do they mean?”

“Most are not tattoos.”

“Oh.” She frowned, even as he walked over to the other side of the bed. He stretched his arms over his head, and she lost all rational thought as those muscles stretched before her gaze.

“Trolls were born from mud and fur, remember? My mother was striped like a tiger. Gunnar didn’t get too many of that family trait, but I did.” He dropped his arms, his hands sliding down planes of muscle that were so tempting.

No. Not tempting. They were simply not tempting. Maia wasn’t thinking about how warm he looked and how desperately she wanted to slide her hands in the same path. She definitely didn’t want to know what those abs would feel like flexing against her palms, or if he would clench like he had the last time she’d touched his stomach while moving her hand toward?—

He suddenly moved again. She was frozen as he placed a knee on the bed and then prowled toward her. All the muscles in his shoulders bunched and rippled with the movement until he was kneeling right in front of her on the mattress. He stared down at her, all raw masculine energy and male pride.

She could do nothing other than stare up at him with wide eyes as he reached into the pocket hanging from his loincloth.

“Come here, wife.” And those words said in that dark, rumbling tone made every part of her body stand to attention.

What was it about his voice that made her want to do anything he said? She turned on the bed, rotating until she was on her knees before him as well. It was strange to kneel on a bed like this, at least until he reached forward with those massive, clawed hands and started removing the piercings from her ears.

“Wait,” she said, though holding herself as still as possible in case he ripped her ear. “Aren’t those supposed to stay in?”

“These are a mark of a troll wife, so yes, they stay in. Anything else you will earn.”

“Earn?” She waited until he was done removing the four new piercings before shaking her head. “Are you suggesting I’ll get more of them?”

He turned his head so she could look at his ears. There were so many other things that she’d been looking at, so she hadn’t gotten a good look at all the piercings he had. But there were quite a few. From his lobes to the cartilage above, there were many piercings. Even one hidden inside his ear.

Apparently, his patience ran out for her scrutiny, though, because he grabbed onto her chin and turned her head to the side. “Piercings are an honor among my people. You earn them, far more than you earn anything else. Tattoos are decorations for many, but piercings? Those you must earn through rights and trials and life lessons.”

“What life lesson is being a troll wife?” she muttered.

But then his hand came down between them to reveal glittering emeralds in his palm. They were stunning. Absolutely gorgeous earrings with tiny cracks in the stone that made the bevels look like she could stare into them for hours on end and never see the end of these fractures. And if she listened really hard, Maia swore there was the faintest hum to them.

“These are the earrings you should have been given the night we met,” he murmured.

Ragnar drew even closer until Maia had to press her hands against his wide chest and brace herself. He freed her chin, those thick fingers sliding along her jaw until he could reach her ear. She could feel him inserting the earring and it felt... strange. Odd to have someone taking care of her like this, but it made it so she couldn’t breathe.

His heart thundered against her palm, betraying the calm in which he talked to her.

“A troll wife is a gift to her husband. A treasure that must be protected at all costs. It is his job—no, his duty and honor—to decorate her in all the elegance he can find. Gemstones do not come near to her beauty, but they can enhance it. Gold and silver are only the merest specks to make her prettier. Clothing, fabric, all of it can make her comfortable, but it’s no competition to the beauty he finds in just looking at her.”

“If a troll finds his wife that beautiful, it sounds like it’s hard to live,” she whispered. He turned her head, making quick work of the other two earrings. Maia couldn’t move her gaze from his chest, terrified of what she would find in his gaze.

“It’s an obsession that a male can never break free from. An honorable troll knows his wife is the most beautiful being he will ever see in his life. To adorn her with whatever he can find that might contend with that radiance is a lifelong challenge that none will ever succeed in.” He leaned down, those warm lips pressed to her ear, his breath caressing down her throat. “But it’s all worth it to see her in nothing but the jewelry he has given her, and the beauty that captivated him for years. When he earns that, troll wife, that is the greatest gift of all.”

And then he got off the bed and walked out of the room. As though what he had just said didn’t turn her legs to water and steal all the air from her lungs.