East

Troll Queen

FOR ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY softskin years (a period of time in Huldre called an alkakausi), my softskin boy was to be a white bear. And at the end of those hundred and fifty years, if the conditions were not met, he would be mine.

The conditions were meant to punish me but also to challenge me. It was the sort of intricate, elaborate contest my father enjoyed setting in motion and then watching unfold.

It was unfortunate my father died before seeing this particular challenge wind down to its conclusion.

But I have watched. And waited, patiently I think.

There were a few halfhearted attempts along the way. It was always tricky for him, balancing the bear and the man inside him. Mostly the bear won.

As the hundred and fifty years draw to a close, this last one, this softskin girl with the sturdy body and violet eyes, has come very close. She has nearly fulfilled one of the conditions.

But not the most difficult. I always knew her curiosity would be her undoing.