She’d heard, somewhere, that the most difficult thing to deal with was never knowing whether to expect a kiss or a kick. She believed it. First there had been the father whose caresses or clouts depended more on his own state of drunkenness than on her actions. At least he’d always gotten too drunk too quickly to do anything worse than clout her. Next there had been the husband she’d fled to in order to escape her father’s home. As his newest woman, she’d been subject to the complaints and commands of her sister-wives, but she’d known what to expect from them. It was the husband whose lusts might as easily involve pain as pleasure who had finally driven her here.

As she lowered herself carefully into the cave, she reflected that here she’d finally be in a position to set her own rules. She landed with a thump, and the trolls looked up, startled to see a human in their lair. “I have heard you need a housekeeper,” she said firmly. “I will work for food and keep, and I will stay as long as no one touches me.”