Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

other man existed in the world.
    Finally, he nodded. “I promised to help you fulfill your dreams, Father. You can count on me for this.”
    Lorenzo didn’t join her on the next trip to the tunnel. A few words passed between the men, though so low she almost couldn’t hear them under the engine. As they were in Spanish, she couldn’t have understood them, anyway—she was simply glad to hear them.
    She was pleased by everything. David loved her. She loved him, too. They might be soon abandoning this project and leaving the glacier. Lorenzo would be more of a danger, she knew. He would likely want to silence everyone in Vik and at this project so that they couldn’t smear the di Fiore name. But she and David would escape. She had no idea what the future might bring after that. Perhaps she would stay in Smoke Cove while he went on expeditions. It would kill her to be so far apart, but she would wait for his return.
    Or perhaps she could convince him that all of his expeditions needed a troll.
    She was so full of hope. She couldn’t stop dreaming of how it would be with him—not just in bed, though she anticipated that, but beyond the bed, too. Her dreams eased the fear, made the trip to the end of the tunnel pass more quickly.
    The men filed out. Annika stoked the engine. The ice cart needed to be disconnected from the troll, so she tucked a spanner in her belt and dropped through the chest hatch, her mind still on David. The bolts loosened with a few sharp twists. The huffing engine above her drowned out every other sound.
    Except for a crack and a sharp cry of pain.
    Frowning, Annika looked behind her. Near the cart, a man lay on the ground, his arm raised to protect himself. A cube of ice hadshattered at his feet. The foreman stood over him, lifting his club again.
    “Stop that!” Annika shouted over the engine, stepped forward. “You stop that now!”
    The foreman looked to Annika. His eyes narrowed. He started toward her.
    Shaking with rage, Annika gripped her spanner as he came closer, all but looming over her. Did he think to intimidate her with his great size? No doubt he meant to make her back down, make her run. He wouldn’t dare hit her.
    He did.
    His arm drew back and struck. Astonishment made her slow. She ducked to the side.
    Pain split through the side of her head.
    Darkness clouded her vision and suddenly receded. Her stomach was churning, her throat sour. When had she fallen to her knees? Her shaking hand fell away from her temple. Blood dripped to the ice floor and froze in crimson dots.
    Giant boots stopped in front of her. Annika looked up, cringed. The foreman was still there, arm raised, poised to strike again.
    He punished for any infraction. But if she stayed down here, maybe she wouldn’t be hit again. Or she could get into the troll, hit him back.
    Or hit him now. Her fingers tightened on the spanner.
    She swung hard. The heavy head smashed into his knee, the impact jolting through her arm. A shout of shock and pain tore through the sound of the huffing troll, the pounding in her ears. His arm came down.
    But he was tall—his arm had a long way to go. She was a rabbit, small and quick, dodging the strike. The club chipped ice from the floor. With both hands, she slammed the spanner’s steel shaft down on his wrist.
    A kick knocked her back, stunned. The spanner skidded away. Panicked, she scrambled for it. A hand grabbed her leg.
    Screaming, Annika curled up and covered her head, waiting for the blow. There was only a thunk! of flesh.
    Then only the huffing.
    Slowly, she raised her arms. The laborer who’d dropped the cube of ice stood over the foreman, a pickaxe in his hands, the point buried in the foreman’s head. With a jerk of his arms, he pulled it out. Blood ran in a river.
    She stared up at him in astonishment. He stared back, his chest heaving. Annika wasn’t sure who was more surprised.
    But at least she knew one word. “Gracias.”
    Eyes still wide, he nodded.
    Annika scooted away from running blood. Reaction set in like a punch to her chest, her stomach. She rolled over, heaved up her lunch, and knelt there, coughing and gagging. Everyone stared at her—fifty men, all as speechless as she. Annika pushed to her feet and gestured to the troll—but not everyone would fit. She bent for her spanner, moved to connect the carts again.
    Finished, she gestured again. “Get in. I’ll take you all back to camp.”
    A murmur ran through the men. Then the one who’d