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The dog whines as he scuttles up the hill, eyes fixed on the sleeping lump of troll. “Well done,” I say, conceding the compliment he’s been waiting for. “Indeed, you are the kingdom’s finest hunter, if not the most undisciplined.”
Also, their current king is not a blood heir. He, too, has been voted in. Their whole society is run on social currency. Popularity is of utmost importance, so every move they make and word they utter is calculated for effect. It makes me wonder what real thoughts and opinions fester behind this constant fakery.”
“I trust you. What trial must we go through to reach your place of residence? A battle? A long horseback journey?” “No. Something much worse. A trip on public transportation.” I wrap my arm around his waist and propel him forward. “Come on. I’ll explain as we walk to the station.” “Public transportation… do the people carry us?” “Not quite.”
When an incredibly drunk and disheveled man gets on, Ever nudges me, “Look. A troll. You have them here also.”
But so much of this realm is nonsensical, especially the many untrue things that come out of mortals’ mouths. Most times they speak, I have to hide my laughter, so I don’t look demented as Lara calls it when I crack up. For example, if I ask Clare to do something simple such as pass the salt, she says, ‘that’s a piece of cake, honey’ as if she’s about to turn the salt-shaker into rose petal scones. The first few times, I waited with great interest, but she couldn’t make the transformation happen, even after I begged her to try.
