Unknotted

“Is that the ultra of Ruani?” I had heard stories of that ultra, so I already knew this slight man couldn’t be the infamous Tomek Mercarde.

Puffing hard through his nose, Chet shifted his attention to the Ruani table. “No. Doesn’t surprise me Tomek didn’t come, nor did his pragmora.”

About seven years ago, Ruani had shut down completely. All travel to and from it banned. The theory was that Tomek and Ariella feared outside. challengers, but the explanation never sat well with me. The ultras had conquered the entire eastern continent almost fifteen years ago and continued to welcome outsiders and tourists for eight years. The lock out had come unexpectedly with no explanation.

“Maybe he’s a new ultra,” I suggested. “Communication with Ruani has been nonexistent. The territory could be in new hands.”

Chet scratched at the scruff on his jaw. “I doubt it. That’s Tomek’s oldest son, Travers. I met him when we were both teenagers. He’s the loyal, family-first type. Unless Tomek passed the knot to him, he’s just a stand in. Core Between, that used to be the best place to vacation.” A goofy, reminiscing grin hooked the corners of his mouth.

With my upbringing, the only vacationing I had done outside of Keadan were campaigns to the borders. There had always been too much work to do to enjoy such luxuries Chet and his affluent family could afford. Someday, when the Expansion War was over and the hemisphere united, I hoped to see all that Cenzia had to offer.

Tydeus shoved into the room, looking a little gloomier than his usual self. He determinedly kept his eyes off the other ultras as he strode toward his seat.

“Keep what I said between us,” Chet said in a rush, his body finally unwinding. His usual, relaxed grin spread across his face as Tydeus plopped down between us.

“Where have you been?” Chet asked. “I was worried you’d gone overboard, Commander.”

“I hate being over water,” Tydeus growled as if that was an explanation to his whereabouts. He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed his phone on the table between his plate and mine.

Four trolls pushed carts from the kitchen into the middle of the ring of tables. The scent of meat and revolting broccoli intensified. A female troll with hair the color of bubblegum stopped her cart in front of us and set a covered tray in front of Chet and another before Tydeus. She pulled off the covers, smiling politely.

“We’re not waiting for the dynamists to eat?” Chet asked the troll.

“They’ll be a little late.” The troll picked up another dish from the cart. “Said not to keep you hungry and waiting.”

“They don’t wish to dine with the likes of us,” Tydeus growled, not really acknowledging the troll.

She set my dish down and eyed my face. “Whose bad side did you get on, sweetheart? Or did one too many at the bar last night make you do something crazy?”

I chuckled. “Bad case of magical interference actually.”

“Bet the other guy looks worse off,” she grinned, but it didn’t touch her ruby-colored eyes.

The laughter I felt rising deflated. “I certainly hope she does not.”

“A she?” The troll smirked. “She did that to you? Are you certain?”

I shook my head, not sure why I was even explaining anything to a snoopy member of the catering staff. “No. She didn’t.” I gingerly touched the bruises on my cheek. “Don’t worry about me, miss. My superiors ensured I received what I deserved for my bad behavior.”

Her brows pinched, eyes never rising to meet mine. She pulled the cover off, accidentally knocking it into my glass. Water spilled across the tablecloth. “Blast,” the troll hissed quickly righting the glass and snatching Tydeus’s phone from the pool of water. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stupid troll.” Tydeus threw the word out like an insult.

A yellow blush rose in the troll’s cheeks. She ripped a towel from the pocket of her apron and soaked up the water, hands shaking.

“Here.” I reached for the towel, resisting the urge to scowl at Tydeus for his rudeness. “It was only and accident. It’s okay.”

She jerked away from the towel, as if my approaching hand was coated in barred quills.

I peered at her curiously, then shook off my surprise. “Forgive my friend for his rudeness.”

A growl rumbled in Tydeus’s chest at the reprimand. Usually, it was him reprimanding me. Before I was promoted into the inner circle three years ago, I wouldn’t have dared to rebuke Tydeus. Our relationship had, in some instances, evolved from senior and subordinate that it had been. Other than the growl, Tydeus took the censure with only a nod. “Yes, forgive my hostility.”

The troll, her eyes lowered, nodded. “It is all right. Please, forgive my clumsiness.”

She grabbed a water pitcher from the cart, righted the glass, and filled it again.

I offered the towel back. As she went to take it though, I pulled slightly against her grip, saying, “Thank you for saving my friend’s phone. I’m sure he would like it back now.” I held out my hand for the device I had glimpsed her slipping into her apron pocket.

A coy smile lifted her face. She pulled the phone free and held it out to me. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. The pay for this job is crummy.”

Her eyes finally lifted to mine. Magic pooled around me and dragged me forward into this troll’s gaze. There was something undeniably familiar about her eyes, though I had never seen her before. And why would the magic make me feel this level of connection with a troll? I had nothing against trolls personally, but I had never heard of the Core trying to knot a hybrid to one. But I couldn’t deny the magical cords unfurling from me toward her. I reached to take the phone, the urge to touch her rising as assuredly as the sun rose each morning.

The troll paled to a lime-green color. She dropped the phone to the table with a clatter, staggered back, and bumped into the cart. She whipped around, catching it before she toppled it, and hurriedly pushed it away. The magical cords seemed to wilt like snakes giving up the chase after a mouse.

“Are you all right, man?” Chet was leaning over his dish. He and Tydeus were staring at me in confusion.

I shook my head. Why was the Core toying with me? First at the diner and now here, trying to draw me toward a troll. It made no sense. And yet those eyes, like bits of polished topaz—

Topaz?

Since when did trolls have topaz-colored eyes? Hadn’t the troll’s eyes been red before?

I peered hard at her as she shoved her cart into the kitchen and disappeared. Then I shook off the strangeness. I had to be imagining things. Glark must have hit me too hard in the head.

When everyone had nearly finished their meal, a pair of hulking trolls pushed the doors open, one announcing, “Welcome, Caspella Broshot.”