The Toll (6 page)

“
Yeah,” he admitted
sheepishly.

That must have been why it
was so horrible,
I thought, feeling a
little better about it.
We both have no
idea what the hell we’re doing.

The thought lifted me a little and I
pulled back, glancing up into Trystan’s trustworthy face. I’d heard
stories about lust overcoming men—is that what had happened with
him? Was he so overcome with lust and passion he’d forgotten
himself?

The idea brought a flush of
pleasure rushing through me, that I could do that to him. Me. Plain
old me. But then I thought about the act itself, how that had made
me feel, and I was right back to uncertainty again.
Was it me? Was it him? Is this normal? Is this
like those wedding jitters you hear about? Sexual intercourse
jitters?

Yes. Yes.
That had to be it.
I
have the jitters. I’m just scared.

“
You know I love you, don’t
you, Daphie-girl?”

Blinking out of my thoughts, I didn’t
need to think about it. “I know you do.”

“
No regrets?” he asked
sweetly, kissing my brow tenderly.

“
Can we get married soon?”
I asked tentatively, a rush of nervous flutters enveloping me at
the thought.
He loves me. Trystan
cares.
I bit my lip, gnawing on it
worriedly, doubts assailing me again.
No.
I shook my head.
Our fathers already made a marriage pact, Trystan
and I are to be wed. There’s really nothing for me to decide
anymore—it’s done.

We’ll figure this
lovemaking stuff out, and we’ll do it together.
I bit my lip at the naughty, unladylike thought.
And we’ll keep doing it until we get it
right.

“
As soon as we figure out a
way to get your sister back, I swear it,” he promised.

Mamma shouted for me again, and he
gave me a lingering kiss before we parted ways.

“
Meet me again tomorrow?”
he murmured huskily, a wealth of promise in his voice.

The thought of trying again, so soon
after the first time, sent a thread of trepidation skipping through
me.

“
I’m sore,” I admitted,
when I thought my silence might have offended him.

“
Oh,” was all he
said.

Nibbling my lip, I wrung my hands
nervously and my eyes shot to his.

He frowned down at me, studying me,
noting the look on my face. “Did I hurt you that much?” he finally
got out.

“
A little, but you didn’t
mean to, I don’t think,” I rushed to assure him.

He still winced. “I didn’t mean to,
really, Daph. Honest. I guess I got a little carried away,
huh?”

“
Just a little.” My face
soured, unbidden, but he caught on before I could blank my
expression.

“
I’ll be more careful next
time. I promise. I’m sorry, love.”

As he reached over and gently caressed
my cheek sweetly, I felt all the tension building up inside of me
slowly leave. Nodding slowly, I let out a long, quiet
sigh.

Grinning impishly, he chuckled at the
look on my face and couldn’t resist pulling me to him one last
time.

“
Oh, Daphedaenya,” he
whispered, chuckling, “you’re perfect. Did you know that? What
would I do without you?”

I chuckled along with him, if a bit
reluctantly, and we laughed again as Mamma started shouting my name
even louder, if that’s possible.

“
You’d be bored,” I
mumbled, but winked when I let him go, tossing him a quick smile as
I turned and headed home, rushing off before Mamma started shouting
the rooftops down, searching me out to come home and fix
supper.

I learned a few things
then
—first, I know absolutely nothing
about sex, despite initially thinking otherwise, and second, even
the best of distractions, well meant or otherwise, are just
that—distractions.

Sure I’d go unnoticed, I entered the
house quickly, glad Mamma was still on the other side of the house,
shouting after me. Rushing, I changed quickly and shoved my ruined
outfit between my lumpy straw mattress and the bed ropes,
redressing and hurrying out before she came storming back in. I was
really sore down there, and I had noticed a few smears of blood,
but it wasn’t something I couldn’t ignore, so I didn’t give it
another thought.

The pot was already bubbling with stew
by the time she came back, stomping in.

“
Where were you?” she
demanded, studying me shrewdly as I glanced up at her from my
knitting, seated comfortably, as far as she knew, in a worn out old
chair at the kitchen table. My throbbing, aching pussy was a story
and issue for me and myself only. I was not about to chat up my
Mamma about engaging in unwed intercourse. Unwed, uh,
pre-intercourse, that left my loins swollen, irritated and
chafed.

“
I came when you called.”
Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“
Why did you change your
clothes?”

Caught on to that, did
she?

“
My hem got dirty,” I
answered vaguely.

She grunted and headed over to the
lidded pot on the pot belly stove we cooked all of our meals
on.

“
Always was one for
muddying up your things,” she grumbled, and I knew I was off the
hook. “It’s a good thing I taught you how to do the wash young or
my fingers would surely have shriveled up and fallen off by now,
your clothes were always so filth ridden.”

Knitting away, I stifled a smile,
hiding it as I bowed my head, forcing myself to concentrate on the
socks my needles were producing.

The lid lifted on the soup pot and
Mamma sniffed appreciatively. “Maybe if you spent more time acting
less like a man and more like a lady, you wouldn’t get so starved
and pack on so much stuffing,” she mumbled.

My smile fell and I felt my needles
faltering.

With a nod and a wave in my direction,
I got up to give Mamma my seat.

“
Go do something useful,
child,” she instructed, “I can finish it from here.” And just like
that, I was effectively dismissed.

Not bothering to look back, I went to
my room and sat on my bed, staring out my window.

“
I hope you’re okay, Otvla.
I really do,” I whispered out loud, but nobody heard.

Barterers And
Beggars

Papa came home, had supper, then
immediately left.

Mamma seemed hopeful with their new
plan, supposedly unbeknownst to me, but I could tell he’d, for some
reason or another, despite her femininity, informed
Mamma.

She probably brow beat it
out of him,
I thought to myself, then
immediately felt bad for entertaining such untoward thoughts. It
was kind of disrespectful, and I knew better. Even if they
were
more than likely
true. Glancing up, I snuck a surreptitious glance at Papa and
Mamma.
Mmm. Most definitely true, but
that’s beside the point.

And even though Papa assured Mamma he
thought it would all work out, using hushed tones, thinking I might
accidently overhear, I knew better.

The last part confused me, though, as
I unashamedly listened in. I may have said I was respectful, I
didn’t say how far that line was drawn. This is about Otvla getting
released from the evil clutches of an ugly troll, so, I felt
justified as I pressed my ear closer to the entry way, catching on
to that last bit, but not understanding a word.

“
And then, will you
consider it, then?” Mamma urged. “You have to choose, one way or
another, Nathem, and as I’ve said, I’ve already made
mine.”

Papa sighed resignedly, and I could
make out him clearing his throat uncomfortably. “It won’t be as
easy as you’re thinking, heart. You can’t just hand ‘em over like
that and call it good.”

“
Well,” she growled, “what,
then? Does it need our permission? If so, you will give
it!”

“
No,” he whispered lower,
“it has to be…”

The rest was cut off as someone banged
on the door, and then, as if they felt ignored, they banged loudly
a few more times, until I heard Papa open it and rush
out.

Staying hidden, I hesitated
to join my mother as Papa left, still feeling the bite of her
words, the harsh sting.
I flinched and
fidgeted self-consciously where I stood, just thinking about
it.
It was a horrible thing to tell
someone, let alone your own child, but I still loved her, just the
same.
She’s my mother. I’m supposed to
love her, right?

Mamma sat down heavily at the kitchen
table, I saw as I poked my head around the corner. Throat catching,
I went to her as soon as I saw her shoulders silently shaking as
she cried.

Grief stricken sobs tore from her
throat, and I rested my chin on top of her head, wrapping my arms
around her comfortingly.

“
I love you, Mamma. Don’t
cry. It’ll be okay,” I whispered over and over, not surprised at
all when she didn’t respond in kind. Heart breaking, I felt my own
sob well up in my throat, but I held it back. There would be time
for me to do that later, much later, when I’m all alone in my
room.

I didn’t stay up this time to wait for
Papa, exhausted from keeping after Mamma, ultimately fearing the
outcome of Papa’s quest, and too chicken to face it.

A Price To Pay

I must have overslept, waking up to
Mamma shaking me viciously.

“
Daphedaenya! Daphedaenya,
wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“
Huh?” I mumbled, rolling
over and wiping at my eyes as I squinted into the light coming from
the lantern mother had lit, waving it around madly over my
head.

“
Wake up!” she hissed, and
I felt something soft and billowing hit me square in the
face.

Groggily, I sat up, pulling the
offending material, whatever it was, away from my person. It was my
warm dress, I realized, grunting when my stockings, bloomers, and
chemise soon followed, smacking me with a soft slap in their
wake.

“
Mamma, what are
you…?”

“
Look,” she started,
whirling around, “I need your help.” Huffing out a long breath, she
stopped suddenly and gripped my hands in hers, her eyes a little
wild and blood shot. “I mean,
we
need your help, your Papa and I.”

“
Okay, Mamma,” I mumbled in
a sleepy voice. “What do you need me to do?”

There was a noise in the other room
and her head shot to the door.

“
Get dressed quickly,” she
ordered, rushing out of my room in her nightgown and tattered robe.
“We haven’t much time, dawn will be upon us soon enough, and then
it might be too late.”

“
Too late?” I echoed,
hurriedly dressing and tossing on my boots to follow.

I made it into the kitchen in record
time, taking the cape she had held out in front of her for
me.

“
Hurry. Hurry, now, child.”
Mamma shoved a brown sack into my hands and urged me outside,
nudging my back almost painfully to get me going.

“
Mamma,” I protested,
“what’s gotten into you? It’s-”

“
What’s all this?” Papa
demanded as he scratched at his balding head, his nightgown hanging
off his slender shoulders crookedly.

“
Daphie’s going to offer
the troll everything we’ve already offered,
plus,”
she patted the sack I held
loosely in my hands, my eyes widening with dawning horror, “my
mother’s diamond rings and great Auntie May’s ruby necklace,” Mamma
informed Papa primly, the fire and defiance in her eyes daring him
to argue.

“
Heart…” Papa croaked, but
Mamma made a cutting motion.

“
She will do this for us,”
Mamma barked, “she will.” Turning slightly, she glanced at me.
“Won’t you, Daphedaenya?”

“
Of course, Mamma,” I
stuttered timidly, scared spit-less as my eyes darted back and
forth between them.

Papa rubbed at his face, looking older
than I’d ever imagined in that moment.

“
At least let me take you
most of the way.” Papa addressed me, but looked to Mamma as he
spoke.

Without another word, he left the room
before she could answer, and we were both left standing there, my
hands clutching the brown sack she used to store potatoes in
gripped tightly in my hands, Mamma’s clutching her robe.

As minutes ticked by the silence in
the room stretched out before us, but neither one of us broke
it.

Papa came walking out moments before
one of us might have cracked, having hastily dressed, his night
shirt tucked into his trousers, tossing his thick winter coat on
over it.

Unsure, I followed him out, glancing
back to see Mamma worriedly watching us go, a troubled expression
on her face. It was hard to make it out, it was still so dark
outside, but I know I saw it. In fact, it must still be the middle
of the night, it was just that dark.