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DAISY
Orcus stops outside of the great hall and tears off a piece of his shirt and rips it into strips to wrap around the wounds on my arms. I press the rest of the material to my face. Once I’m set, he storms toward our wing. Silent and pissed, not at me but at everything that’s happened since we’ve come back. Prometheus zips around Orcus’ head as soon as we arrive. The dragon’s chitters are disgruntled.
I reach my hand out to stroke its cheek. “I’m okay, Prometheus.”
Hurt?
“A little, but I’m okay.” I’m actually surprised at how much Orlena pulled her hits. Not a single punch was thrown, but she probably realized I’d have a hard enough time surviving her slaps.
“What happened to ya?” Harald asks. Another tiny trull with graying green hair stands beside him.
Orcus doesn’t say anything but continues walking into the common room.
I tip my head and look around Orcus’ bicep. “A little brawl is all, Harald.”
The trull narrows his eyes on Orcus’ back. “Ya let this happen?”
“I tried to stop it,” Orcus snaps, his tone at odds with how gingerly he sets me onto the cushion of the oversized chair. He glances at the trull as he takes his own seat across from me. “But then Daisy said she wanted to do it and I had no choice. Where’s Zyla?”
“Dunno.” Harald scurries over to my seat. “Who did ya fight with?” He’s wearing a white t-shirt and cute green overalls, looking very much like a leprechaun, but I would never tell him that.
“Orlena. She kicked my ass.”
“Bah. If she wanted to kick yer ass, you’d be unconscious.” His gaze slips over my face and down to my bloodied arms. “Ya need Zyla.”
“I know.”
“Where is the witch?” Orcus grumbles, shoving away from his seat and marching toward her door.
“Be nice to her!”
He glares at me. I shrug. He’s in a foul mood, and I don’t want him to take it out on people we care about. I turn back to Harald.
“Is this your mother?” I smile at the trull who is scrutinizing me like she’s trying to figure out if it’s dirt or crap on the bottom of her shoe.
“The name’s Lagertha.” Her hair is short and green and closely shorn. Her belly is as round as Harald’s. There are no Viking braids in sight, but the name still fits, especially with the hard stare she’s shooting at me.
Just as prickly as Harald.
“It’s lovely to meet you.”
She scowls. “My son might be a fool, but I’m not. What do ya want from him?”
“I don’t want anything from Harald. We’re friends.”
She barks out a laugh. “No one befriends a trull.”
“Well I do.” I arch my eyebrows and hold her stare. “From the way it sounds, most monsters are assholes to trulls, but I’m not a monster and I happen to like Harald, trophies and all.”
“Ya showed her the skins?”
“Yup. She might’ve turned a little green, but she handled them well. I told ya, she’s a good one.”
Lagertha shakes her head. “She hasn’t fulfilled her promise yet.”
“She’s not queen yet.”
“She’s stringing ya along.”
