Page 4 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

“Oh yes, you’d better get him to Thessaly’s shop. I hope she has something aetherwoven in stock!” Grunnhild said.

The man on my shoulders pinched my neck. I took off at a sprint toward Cavernmouth, kicking myself internally for every single one of my ridiculous lies as the human riding me like a pony struggled to get free.

It’s amazing how fast a troll can run when he’s found a way to get his matchmaking sisters off his back.

Chapter 2

Sky

The shop was charming, and for a moment, I was distracted from my mortal peril, skimming my hand over a display of pendants on silver chains. One flushed me warm from scalp to toes, like sinking into a hot tub, and the next hit me with a wave of relaxation so mellow it would have outsold every dispensary in San Jose. Were the pendants magical?

I picked up a little shell pendant, the smooth disk of it cool against my palm, and the sounds I’d been hearing since I landed in this strange world suddenly resolved into words, like a radio finding its frequency.

“—twenty silver for the standard enchantment; the necklace he chose has the premium translation. It runs forty but includes written comprehension.” The shopkeeper beamed up at him. “And he needs clothes?”

“Yes, he was set upon by highwaymen, and they seem to have stolen his every possession, including his clothes. Can you imagine?” The big guy, who I was pretty sure was some manner of bridge troll, looked my way and his eyebrows shot up. “He seems to like that one.”

“I can understand you?” I asked.

He nodded. “Aetherweaving magic. This is Thessaly. She makes enchanted objects.”

I lifted the necklace, holding it by the chain, and whatever Thessaly had been saying went soft-focus again, until she reached out and put the shell into my hand. “You must touch the enchanted shell. When it’s not against your skin, you will not be able to understand.” She turned to my kidnapper. “Moerrven, I’m going to go to the back and see if I can find some clothing in his size.”

“Your name is Moerrven?” I asked, looking up at him.

He nodded. “Moerrven Mossren, at your service.”

“You’re not going to eat me for lunch, are you?”

Moerrven looked horrified, but before he could respond, Thessaly came bustling back with an armload of fabric. “My son is twelve, and he’s about your size. Hopefully, these will suit.” She set them down on the table as Moerrven went stiff, his gaze fixed somewhere over my head.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re not… also twelve, are you? I took you to be an adult. My, erm. Never mind.”

“Fuck, do I look twelve? I’m twenty-five,” I said, laughing. Then I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him. “Do you prefer your meat older?”

Thessaly shook her head. “My dear, most trolls are vegetarian, so you probably shouldn’t make any more meat jokes, or he might start to feel ill.”

“It’s an alarming stereotype, really,” Moerrven muttered. “What next? I live under a bridge? Why people think such terrible things of trolls, I’ll never know. We are a peaceful people.”

It was a good thing he hadn’t been able to understand me back at the bridge when I’d been asking him to solve riddles if he wanted to pass.

“And you are the kindest of the bunch, Moerrven.” Thessaly patted him on the shoulder before turning to me. “What is your name?”

“Sky. Sky Liang.” I held out my hand, and she shook it.

“Lovely to meet you, Sky. I’m sorry you came to be in our town in such unfortunate circumstances.”

“Oh, um. Yes,” I said, not entirely sure how to explain the circumstances. As I began to sort through her pile of clothing, my stomach growled loudly.

“Will you need shoes?” Thessaly asked, eyeing my feet.

“I’m good. Mine are comfier than anything, promise.” I stuck out a foot to show off my bright blue Vans. She studied them like they might be cursed.

Moerrven pulled out a pouch full of coins and waved me toward the back of the shop. “Put on some clothing and we’ll find you some sustenance.”

“You can change in my office,” Thessaly said, opening the door, and I walked in, frowning at a workbench full of strange odds and ends. “Do not touch anything on the workbench. Half-cast spells are dangerous,” she said before she closed the door.