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Although she and Raskyuil never stayed long, it certainly made for interesting fae-watching. As they stood in line for their food, she covertly watched the orcs. They took up three of the largest tables by themselves, clustered in one corner while several harpies and sirens—being creatures of a similar feather, especially as the latter was nothing like a mermaid but was rather more birdlike than the harpy—gossiped in a corner with several nymphs, ignoring the goblins chattering cheerfully amongst themselves when not shouting and laughing.
She smiled as a familiar goblin taunted Barok within dangerous reach as the orc glowered over at him. It reminded her a little of the way Andy used to egg Michael on. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Barok ended up flattening him at some point. Goodness knew that she had to separate more than one squabble because Andy pushed a little too far. Barok’s clan always managed to leave before it got to that point, however.
In contrast, the large mountain troll seemed to practically live there. He was alone in his customary spot at the far end of the tent, sitting awkwardly in the seat that, while large for a human, was obviously too small for a male of his size. He took up most of the table where he sat, his large frame hunched over it. MaryAnne didn’t think she’d ever heard him say anything to anyone, not even when one of the rowdy goblins drew him into a one-sided conversation—though he often appeared delighted. She watched his long ears flick with interest at the chatter, and he seemed to never tire of the activity all around him even if he seemed painfully shy and unable to join in, however much he seemed to want to.
Raskyuil, noting the direction of her attention, looked over and sighed. “Poor bastard.”
MaryAnne glanced over at him in surprise. “Why do you say that?” She felt sympathy for how shy he obviously was, but that seemed a bit much.
He peered down at her for a long moment, as if considering his words before answering. “It is cruel for one such as him to be alone in this world. Although we prefer to live in isolated dens among very far spread villages, trolls of any breed prefer living in close family groups either with their parents if unmated, or with their mate, and sometimes co-mate if a pair brings in another. It’s rare for a troll to live alone without the comfort of kin. And with the danger that is out there, he no doubt feels even more lost and helpless than ever.”
She squinted up at him. That didn’t quite line up with some of the things he’d told her about his life during the long hours they spent in their tent together. “But… what about you? You told me yourself that you’ve been traveling in our world for years.”
He grunted. “There were few other options for me. My kin are long since gone, and serving as the captain of the guard for the court of the Eternal Forest made me more resilient to separation than most. Most forest trolls would struggle, but for a mountain troll,” he shook his head grimly, “it would be a death sentence for a lone male without a female to follow.”
At her look of confusion, he explained, “Mountain trolls are highly matriarchal and tend to have terrible temperaments,” he quickly added with a grim smile. “A young male will live with his mother for as long as it takes to find a female to welcome him into her den. While it is rare for there to be a lone male among forest trolls, among mountain trolls it is unheard of.”
MaryAnne’s mouth fell open. “Because he looks to a female to lead?”
Raskyuil nodded. “Essentially. It is a little more nuanced to my understanding. Males receive a sort of burst of pleasure in caring for their mates. A lone male will sink into depression after a while, surviving for a time before eventually he stops eating and starves to death.”
“What?” Horror filled her as her gaze snapped back to the troll. He wore a sort of content smile on his face though he was obviously set apart from everyone else. “Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” she whispered.
Raskyuil gave her a bland look. “Are you so eager to have another troll join our family?”
She recoiled, surprised at the suggestion. Nor did she miss the frosty undertone to his question. He was asking what she wanted, but she had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t be very pleased if she had agreed. Not that she had any intention of doing so.
“No,” she slowly drawled, stretching the word out as her face burned with embarrassment that he even considered that she might want that.
He grunted with approval, turning his attention back toward the line in front of him. “Then no, there’s nothing. He would have a chance if a female chose to mate him, but you do not see any of the nymphs or aelves throwing themselves at him,” he observed with his particular pronunciation. He shook his head. “And all of the orc females of age within the clan are mated to my understanding.”
MaryAnne bit her lip. “It’s just so… sad. And he doesn’t even have what I would call a terrible temperament. In fact, I would say he’s very shy.”
Raskyuil glanced over his shoulder at her with surprise. “You see that?” At her nod he grunted again, this time thoughtfully. “Odd that a female terrified of monsters would see it while it seems that the other fae within this camp are oblivious to it. Even the goblins quickly give up on their overtures to befriend him.”
Her lips pursed, annoyed on the troll’s behalf. Sure, he was intimidatingly huge, but that wasn’t something he could help. “They must be pretty blind then,” she muttered, knowing that he would hear it but not wanting to inadvertently insult anyone who might otherwise have overheard. “I noticed it right away. I never did see anyone who reacted so nervously and carefully just having a child near them as if he were alternately terrified of hurting them and worried that they might bite him.”
Raskyuil chuckled at her observation as he faced forward again. “That does seem to be his reaction to most smaller species, especially humans who don’t even have the natural defenses of a goblin.”
She frowned a little at that but couldn’t argue. The goblin heading toward them was smaller than many monsters, possessing more elvish proportions, but she had no doubt that he had a lot more up his sleeve to protect himself. Her eyes followed him curiously as he made a beeline for Raskyuil. He glanced briefly—and more than a little gleefully—in MaryAnne’s direction, but then the two were all business as he leaned forward and began to converse with Raskyuil in hushed tones beyond her ability to hear.
Curse her human ears. Whatever was said, it was obviously interesting because Raskyuil listened attentively and nodded several times before replying in a low rumble.
Frustrated, she went back to peering at the lone troll for several minutes before reluctantly looking away when she noted a few curious gazes turn in her direction. She faced forward before someone mistook her sympathy for interest in acquiring another mate. That sort of rumor would be even crueler for the troll than his current existence. It seemed even among the more monstrous of the fae things were a lot more complex than she’d ever believed.
ChapterForty
MaryAnne considered Nivira as the drya’s customer departed. Ayla hadn’t lingered long, barely saying two words to her at all as she gathered her things and left within minutes of her arrival. The female seemed oddly on edge—almost nervous—but she supposed it made sense if she was caught in hormone hell. That she felt a prickle of unease about how furtive and secretive her actions came off, she blamed wholly on the current circumstances.
Even though several of the monsters had become friendlier toward her, the carnival itself frightened her a little more every day. Whatever safety she felt never seemed to extend beyond the tents, and everything outside turned darker and more terrifying as the nights slowly grew longer.
She’d been catching glimpses of the children in the fog more frequently too even if they weren’t always clear in form. Not her children. Not yet. But she was certain that they were out there… somewhere. She didn’t understand why she hadn’t seen them yet. Did they not want her to find them? It broke her heart just a little to think that they were perhaps avoiding her.
Or was whatever in-between place they were caught in on the other side of the fog so confusing that they didn’t even realize she was there looking for them? Perhaps she needed to try harder. Now that the guests had returned, she finally had some cover that would allow her to snoop around without attracting too much attention.
Surprisingly, despite the condition of things in the nearby town, there were quite a few humans enjoying the carnival. The young woman seated at the table was gaunt and pale with dark circles beneath her eyes, and yet while Nivira read her web, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes that made MaryAnne sad. She was worried about a prospective lover when she appeared on the verge of wasting away right in front of MaryAnne’s eyes.
Licking her lips, MaryAnne glanced down at the little packets she’d been busily making for each session. She took great care to measure the right combination of herbs for the customer’s tea, to open them up to be clearly read, and for the second packet that contained the very precise ingredients for the herbal blend Nivira burned on the coals. It had been a little difficult to remember at first, but she’d had enough time practicing with the twins that she was able to move confidently in fulfilling her task while Nivira performed the reading.
