BEAUTY AND THE GOBLIN KING

LIDIYA FOXGLOVE

Copyright © 2017 by Lidiya Foxglove

Cover image © 2017 AM Design Studios

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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CONTENTS

Beauty and the Goblin King

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

“These Wicked Revels” Preview

More Romantic Fantasy from Lidiya!

About the Author

Beauty and the Goblin King

Maybe I was the girl Clara didn’t want me to be. Here I was, with the goblin king, and I didn’t want him to stop.

For the past ten years, the Goblin King has stayed locked away in his caverns. He only opens his doors for one purpose: he will give one gold coin for every night a girl is willing to spend with him. Despite his fearsome reputation, his fangs and claws, the girls come back safe and sound, and they never say a word about it. One must be very desperate to accept such an offer…or very curious. Well, everyone says curiosity has always been my downfall. Too clever for a girl so beautiful.

Now my family is on the brink of losing everything. My sister Clara knows the goblin king’s story has always intrigued me, and she’s willing to sacrifice me to get her hands on his money. But I finally have the chance to sate my curiosity.

What will I find when I get there? A man who is cruelly cursed, haunted by a past misdeed? Or the man who will unlock all of my secret desires?

It has been a long time since the Goblin King trusted anyone, but if he is willing to trust me, I might be able to save him and his people. But the witch who cursed him is close at hand, and she doesn’t play fair.

Beauty and the Goblin King is a fairy tale retelling for those who like an adorable happily ever after with a side of serious steaminess!

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Chapter One

I was a girl when the goblin king first sent out his messages. Any young, unmarried woman willing to come to his castle would receive one gold piece for every night she spent there.

Everyone whispered about him. What did he want with them? Why was he asking for human girls?

The goblin king was a young man, who used to come to town sometimes, flashy with gold, riding a black horse, accompanied by his friends. They were ugly, noisy tricksters, everyone said. Dangerous.

But there was the matter of the gold.

After his message, he never came to town again. Neither did any of his subjects. They didn’t even trade for the most necessary items, like salt. It was as if all the goblins had vanished.

He was there, though. Desperate women traveled to him from every town and village within several days’ journey, and they got their gold pieces. Sometimes one, sometimes a week’s worth. A single gold coin was a substantial sum, about the cost of a horse, or a wardrobe suitable for attracting a wealthy husband—enough to change a peasant’s stars.

Not that I knew anyone who had been to see him, personally, but the stories went around. The girls who went to see him never said much about the experience, except that he wanted exactly what you might expect him to want, but they didn’t complain either. It was one of the great mysteries of the region. Why had the young goblin king become a recluse, willing to rut any unmarried girl who comes to his doorstep, even if she isn’t much of a catch herself?

To me, there was an air of intrigue about the king. By the time I was a young woman myself, his situation had not changed. People used to speak about the goblins as if they had died out in the region. Many years ago, they said, you could see their bonfires from the road at night, hear their songs. The goblin maidens used to ride into town astride, they said, as naughty as the menfolk.

Maybe I liked the idea of them because I was always given to fancy, always lost in books.

Just around the corner from the large stone house where I lived with my father and three older sisters was the town’s subscription library, and I spent so much time there that I was frequently teased about it.

I was seventeen years old when I was browsing—Local Legends, the book was called. I came across an etching of the goblin king. He had a grinning mouth full of fangs, a mane of untamed dark hair, and two little horns on the top of his head.

GOBLINS LIVE IN SMALL “KINGDOMS” which are more like what we would call clans, but they are usually very prosperous, due to their skill at sensing out gold and gems within the earth. In the later years of King Stephen’s reign, the goblin king of the Green Hollows disappeared into his cavernous realm, and as of this writing has not been seen since. The only visitors he accepts are young, unmarried human women. It is suspected that he is under a curse, and he and his subjects are barred from leaving the cavern, but perhaps we shall never know what the curse is. Men have made attempts to approach his cavern, but the entrance has vanished. Only a woman traveling alone can find it, and when she returns, her memory always seems a bit hazy.

I STARED at the picture of the king for a long time.

It gave me a strange feeling somewhere in my stomach, a sort of twist that was not unpleasant. I was supposed to think he was ugly, but there was something about that grinning, fanged mouth that made me wish I could see him, just once.

“What are you doing?”

My oldest sister Clara snuck up on me that day, and grabbed the book from my hand. “Is that the goblin king? Respectable girls should keep their noses out of that naughty business.”

I grabbed the book back, shut it, and shelved it. “And you shouldn’t be looking over people’s shoulders when they're reading,” I said, but my cheeks were flushed. My fair cheeks had a way of betraying me at inconvenient times.

Ever since my mother died when we were young, Clara had become the boss, but she was ten times bossier than Mother ever was. She looked at me like she had caught me getting fucked by our stableboy. “All this reading isn’t good for you,” she declared. “You’re starting to get ideas.”

“It was just a book, Clara. You’re ridiculous.”

“You ought to be out and about, finding yourself a husband, not locked up in here with books.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my cloak off the back of a nearby chair, resigned to coming home.

Clara led the way, her back as straight as a post, her hood always pointed straight ahead. Clara was never curious about anything.

I’d never tell anyone, but way deep down in my soul, sometimes I wondered what would happen if I took the long walk over the green hills to the door of his cave and knocked.

That is, until my father lost all his money, and my wonderings came true.

AT FIRST IT just seemed like a bad year. When you’re a merchant, bad years come and go. Some of the grain in the storehouse spoiled. A ship was lost at sea. My father had to borrow from one of the lenders down on Crow Alley, which he hated to do because they charged higher interest. But this had happened a couple of times before when I was a wee thing.

The trouble was, my mother had been alive back then, and all my older sisters were wee things too. Now, they were young women. The twins were looking for husbands. Clara was settling in to be a proud old maid, intending to take care of Father and probably to inherit the house. They were horrified at the idea of looking poor and losing their prospects. They kept spending as if nothing had happened. Appearances must be maintained. Father hardly protested.

Then, came the fire. It started in the night, and swept through all the storehouses on the west side of the river. By morning, all was ashes. All of the goods waiting to be shipped south were lost.

Those months were a whirlwind of denial. My sisters couldn’t believe that we wouldn’t make it out of this. Father had insurance, didn’t he? The insurance company collapsed, unable to make all the payments. The lenders were at our door and soon they were sending very aggressive men to pound on our windows in the middle of the night.

We had to start pawning our things. All of the silver was sold off. The better sets of bedclothes. A few items of furniture. A few pieces of Mother’s jewelry that was not so much in style now—but that was especially painful, because it was associated with memories.

Servants were let go, and we had to start keeping the house tidy ourselves. One might expect Clara to like housework, since she was such a stickler for everything, but she didn’t. Not one bit. She was always trying to get the rest of us to do it for her. I believe I was the only one who actually liked washing and scrubbing. It was a good chance to daydream.

But we were still in trouble, dodging lenders in the street in some embarrassing instances. Marta and Trixie were obsessed with snagging husbands, and terrified that word would get out about just how poor we were.

Soon, we were down to the essentials, and there was no hiding it anymore. We had sold the horse and carriage. The only servant left was the cook, and that was mostly because she had been with us so long that she refused to leave, and would work for nothing but food and board. We were no longer invited to social functions, because everyone knew we were on the brink of losing all respectability, and we didn’t have the money to keep up.

We were about to lose the house.

It was time for a serious discussion.

“The dowries!” cried Trixie. “Our good name! Why couldn’t this have happened once we were safely married? I thought I had Danny Martin on the brink of proposal.”

“Someone would probably marry Sabela, even if she had no money.” Marta looked at me. I was the beauty of the family, so much so that Father called me “Beauty” most of the time. It had never sat comfortably with me; I didn’t especially want attention. Most of all, I didn’t like male attention. I could imagine nothing more stifling than to be a married woman in Fairhaven. Likely, my husband would be a merchant like Father, who would travel around, while I was home with the servants and babies.

“But Sabela never pays any attention to men.”

“Not real men. Just the men in books,” Clara said. “Books and tales. Like the goblin king.”

I flushed.

“One gold coin,” she said. “That would pay for this house.”

“But no one ever stays more than a few nights,” Trixie said. “He must get bored of them.” She was the closest to my age.

“Trixie, pay attention. One gold coin would shut up the lenders for a little while. Two gold coins, and we could buy some new clothes. People would think we were doing better again.”

“Maybe he won’t get bored of Sabela,” Clara said. “She’s too pretty. And even a few gold coins would buy us another month to think.”

I thought Father would snap at her that he would never, ever do such a thing to me. He would never send away his youngest daughter to sleep with the goblin king.

“We can’t…ask that of Sabela.” He looked very tired, and heaved a sigh. His hand moved to reach for his pipe, and then withdrew when he realized there had not been money for tobacco.

“But what else do we do? Lose the house?” Clara said. “Lose the house where we grew up, where we were born, where Mother died?”

His eyes met mine.

I looked at the floor, flushing again. It was a funny thing about the goblin king. No, you didn’t go to him unless you needed money, so it wasn’t a thing respectable women were likely to do.

But if you were desperate—

It wasn’t viewed the same way as prostitution. He was a magical creature who never left his caverns. I would never see him again. He would never gossip about me. And then, there was the fact that the women never quite remembered what had happened.

“The goblin king only accepts young women who go willingly,” Father said.

“Last year, I caught Sabela looking at a picture of the goblin king in a book, and she turned just as red as she is now,” Clara said. “I think she might do it.”

“Clara!” I had never liked Clara much. But this was the first time I hated her.

“My beauty, is it true, that you would be amenable?” Father asked, tentative, but even in his eyes, I saw something like hope. Like he just wanted someone to solve his problems. He was getting old, his hair thinning, his eyes growing too weak to read, but I still felt a pang when I realized he would let me go.

“I…” My voice died as I saw them all looking at me, my selfish sisters. Why me? I thought. Why shouldn’t one of my older sisters go instead?

But then I realized that if one of them were to volunteer, a different sort of emotion would pass through me, and it would not quite be pleasant. I don’t really know why I wasn’t entirely terrified of the goblin king, why something called me to go to his door now and indeed, ever since I started to become aware of myself as a woman, but it did. I couldn’t deny that. I didn’t exactly want to go, but if someone must, it would be me. Not my sisters.

“I will go,” I said, forcing my voice to be brave.

“Dear god,” Papa whispered. “What am I saying? Sending you to him?”

I stood up, my resolve building. “I will go willingly, as soon as the sun rises.”

I could hear my sisters letting out breaths of relief.

I had always been the strange one, the one who dreamed of a life beyond this city while the rest of them simply dreamed of handsome husbands and greater riches. Maybe, I thought in panic, as I struggled to sleep that night, I have built up an idea of this goblin king simply because going to see him sounds like an adventure. But what do I think will happen? Some hideous, fanged monster will answer the door, drag me underground, steal my virginity, and throw me out again.

What did I really know of him? I had seen a picture in a book. It might be wildly inaccurate. It might not capture his cruelty. I could hardly wrap my head around the idea that he would actually steal my virginity. I thought he must want something else.

It was certainly too late to change my mind. And even sleeping reminded me of the stakes, because I had a proper bed to sleep in with Clara, a feather cover and bed curtains to keep out the cold. If we lost the house, all these things would go. We would sleep on the floor on straw beds like the poor. One night with the goblin king, in exchange for countless nights of warm beds and soft mattresses. Someone must do something.

So, that morning, I put on my best dress, a clean white apron, a wool cloak, and my good boots. (My only boots, actually—it was easy to forget that I had sold the older pair.) The twins had packed lunch in a basket, for it would take all day to walk to the king’s caves.

They kissed me goodbye, standing all in a row like it was my wedding day. I said very little because my voice would quaver. My insides were quivering and buzzing like a hive of bees was swarming inside me.

“My daughter,” Father said. “Please forgive me. At least we know, they all come back.”

Then he kissed my cheek last, and I was so close to tears that I could only wave my hand and nod and force a smile before I set off down the path.

My boots forged a path down the rutted roads of Fairhaven, well traveled paths at first. It was so early that thankfully, not too many people I knew were out, but a young man who had once courted Trixie passed by and tipped his hat, asking if I was going somewhere important. And the baker’s daughter said hello and said I looked very nice today. In both cases, I acted coy, as if perhaps I was meeting a young man and I didn’t want everyone gossiping about it. Well, it wasn’t a lie, even the young part. People reckoned the goblin king was no older than thirty, which was a bit younger than some of the wealthy suitors Trixie and Marta had their eyes on.

Soon, I had left my neighborhood. The houses grew smaller, with larger yards where chickens, pigs and gardens mingled: the small farms that provided much of the food for the town markets. And then, before I knew it, I was walking on the road that led out of town. An old stone wall wove along beside me, and sheep grazed on the green hills.

It was an hour or so to walk to the next hamlet, where my best clothes stuck out even more, so I hurried through quickly. It was deep into the morning by now, so everyone was out and about. I felt as if all the women were looking at me and knew where I was going. I saw heads bow close, whispers exchanged.

But once I made it through, there was nothing between the goblin king and me except miles of lonely road.

Of course, I was not used to walking such distances. Here and there, I had to stop and rest a moment. At one point, I came to an ancient circle of stone. I stopped to admire it, because I had never come this far before, and I was always curious about the lives of people who had lived among these hills centuries ago.

I drained my water flask by mid-day, but clouds were gathering in the sky. Before long, I would have all the water I could wish for and a great deal more. A spring downpour pelted me for what felt like hours, leaving my hair soaked and making my cloak feel heavy on my shoulders.

By the afternoon, I was starting to wonder if I really knew what the goblin king’s cave looked like. Would it be obvious? What if it was a tiny door, overgrown with weeds, tucked into the side of a hill, and in my exhaustion I missed it entirely?

The terrain had grown rockier, the trees taller, the hills larger. My legs dragged. I yearned for dinner, and kept staring at the sun, willing it to stay put, but it was sinking quickly, as suns tend to do.

The hills were turning vivid colors as the sunlight hit the grasses sideways. Soon it would be getting harder to see. Little creatures rustled in the tall grasses on either side of the road. It was only supposed to be a day’s walk. Had I walked too slow? I wondered what I would do if I never found the place. Should I attempt to turn around and walk home through the night? Sleep in the woods? Just press on?

As I was starting to feel the edge of real despair, I saw an iron gate at one of the bends in the road. It was open, and at the top was an iron arch molded into an official-looking seal, with a moon flanked by two rather gargoyle-like beasts. A path led me forward, around the gentle swells of two green, tree-covered hills on either side. Small wildflowers bloomed in abundance. It was a beautiful, sheltered place.

At the end of the path was a lush rose garden. It was too early in the spring for the roses to be in such proliferation, and yet, here they were, blooming as if it was the middle of summer. Huge yellow ones, pink ones with an almost squarish shape, white ones with frilled petals, red ones with more slender blooms. There was such a variety that somehow, they seemed to compel me to choose one.

I had always liked the wilder roses best. I kept walking around the bushes, trying to find a rose that suited me best. In the process, I spotted a door tucked among the flowers. I didn’t knock yet. I needed to find a rose first.

Ah—there was the one! A smaller, more humble flower in a dark crimson. My hand had just met the stem when the door creaked open.

“Picking my roses, are you?”

But it was too late. The flower was in my hand.

I turned, cheeks burning, stammering out, “I’m—I’m sorry, I—“ What was I thinking, grabbing flowers from a man’s garden without asking?

And there he was. The goblin king himself. My eyes hardly knew what to make of him, where to look first. The sharp, stunning golden eyes? A mouth of fearsome teeth—far more of them than he needed, I thought.  Or his hands, covered in black leather gloves with elongated tips to make room for his claws?

And then there were the small black horns rising from his coarse, wild black hair. Each one was adorned with a golden ornament, shaped like a twig or an antler, like two small horn-circlets.

“Never mind it,” he said. His voice was a little raspy and growly. “Come here. Let me see what the night has brought me this time.”

My heart was fluttering in an uneven patter as I came closer, realizing how tall he was. Tall and strong and broad. My eyes only came up to his chest. He was dressed more like a laborer than a king, I thought, his shirt, vest, and trousers well-fitted but homespun and simple. He had good quality boots and a hooded cloak, although the hood was down as if he wanted me to get a proper look at what I was getting into.

“You’re awfully pretty,” he said, with a slightly skeptical tone. “At least, as far as the humans prefer.”

“I can’t help it,” I said.

“Surely a girl like you could find a husband to care for you, if you are penniless.”

I was vaguely irritated, and didn’t care to explain my business to him. “And yet, here I am, so obviously not. Did you ever consider that maybe there isn’t anyone in town worth marrying?”

“You probably haven’t looked very hard.”

“Will you give me a coin or not?”

“Will you allow me to fuck you in exchange for one gold coin? No sicknesses nor babes can result. I will take you as many times as I like tonight and in the morning you may go unless you choose to stay.”

How blunt. So, it really was this and nothing else. There wasn’t some other secret purpose for inviting women to his house.

So, I really was going to lose my virginity tonight, to this beast of a man. I was surely blushing again. I hoped it was too dark to see.

There really was no question of saying no at this point. I had come all this way, and I needed food and shelter. Besides that…well, he was not so ugly as I expected. Or maybe he was precisely as ugly as I expected. The portrait of him in the book was fairly accurate. But you liked that portrait, whispered some voice deep down inside of me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Then, come in.” He held the door open.

I took a hesitant step inside, and then another, and the door shut behind me with a hollow thud. I glanced back, since I had not seen him move, nor heard his clothing rustle. It appeared that it had shut all by itself.

We stood inside a dark passage, lit by the soft light of a candelabra. He held out a glove and said, “I will take that rose from you now.”

“I’m sorry for picking it.”

“You could hardly help it.” He shrugged, and I handed him the rose. He cradled the blossom in his hand. There was a small crystal vase with water sitting inside the passageway, and he put the rose there.

A faint rumble seemed to come from deep within the earth, and shake the passage so that dirt rained from the ceiling. I pulled my hood over my head with a gasp.

He looked up. “Tremors. You have nothing to fear from them,” he said. “Sometimes the caverns get moody when I have a guest.”

“The caverns have moods?”

“Very sour moods.”

Then he led me deeper into the passage.

“Oh,” I breathed, as he opened a door. The room opened up, and the walls and ceilings sparkled with tiny lights and glowing crystals. We were standing inside a hall that would be the envy of any palace. A fireplace was built into one wall, with a small fire burning within, and paintings hung on the walls, of wild little goblin maidens dancing with sticks of fire. It looked like fun, whatever they were doing (once I had double-checked that no humans were being burned or mutilated somewhere in the painting, as rumors occasionally suggested). Beautifully carved benches were gathered around the fire, and a loaf of warm bread and a shaped round of golden butter was waiting for me, along with some wine.

“Rest your feet and have some food,” he offered. “Make yourself at home. You have an hour or so. I will come for you at sunset.”

“Oh—all right—I mean—we haven’t even exchanged names.”

“You want my name? Most are content to think of me as the goblin king.”

“We’re going to…do something pretty intimate, I mean, I suppose you do it all the time, but…”

“I don’t know if I want you to have my name, pretty one. I know you’re only here for one purpose.”

“Like wanting a coin is any better than what you want me for.”

He stepped a little closer to me, and looked down. Slowly, his hand lifted to my face, and the somewhat stiff, yet soft material of his glove traced my cheek. “You know, tonight, I might actually enjoy it. But I’m not giving you my name, and I won’t have yours. It isn’t that kind of transaction, is it?”

“Just—don’t call me ‘pretty one’,” I said.

“Why not?”

“At home my father calls me ‘Beauty’. And half the time I think that’s all anyone sees when they look at me. I know I shouldn’t wish to be ugly; I probably wouldn’t like it. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be known for being clever or courageous instead of pretty. If I’m going to—submit to you—I’d at least ask that you not call me that.”

“Easy enough,” he said. “Now, I will let you have your meal and a warm bath.”

“All right—that is—where is the bath? Where is my chamber for the night?”

“Go ahead and explore. You’ll find it.”

He turned and disappeared down another shadowy hall.

I sat down at the table and spread the butter on the bread. I was so hungry I couldn’t really worry anymore. I poured some of the wine and drank it down. Maybe a little bit of alcohol would calm my nerves. But it was also possible that they were beyond calming.

When the entire loaf of bread was gone, I started getting my bearings. I’m going to be here a long time, I told myself. I needed as many gold coins as possible to keep my family from losing everything. But with my hunger no longer so pressing, my stomach squirmed with fears. It was hard to imagine just what I was getting myself into. I knew what happened between men and women, but I also knew it could hurt, or be pleasurable. It could be shameful or romantic. And strangely, I wasn’t sure what I expected out of the goblin king.

This house, if you could call it that, was not formed like other houses. The walls were uneven, the passages twisting and sloping. Crystals and rocks jutted from walls, and tiny lights sparkled in veins. One room had a dining table formed from a giant rock that came out of the wall, with stalactites reaching down like chandeliers. Another room had a pipe organ formed into the cave, and some of the pipes appeared to be shaped from the very rocks themselves, although truly it was hard to say where the organ ended and the cave began.

I had never seen such an astonishing, magical place. But there were no servants, no sign of any people at all.

Why is he here all alone? Who cleans and maintains this place?

Of course, there were hermits who chose to live alone, usually religious men. I didn’t think the goblin king was religious. I wondered if he was a king at all. He certainly didn’t have any subjects, but the caverns went on and on. I didn’t have time to even begin to explore them all. Just by the size of the rooms, it was obvious that there used to be large feasts and gatherings in the past.

He wasn’t really alone, I reminded myself. He paid women to come here. But when he touched my face, he said he might actually enjoy it.

There definitely was something going on here, something beyond the gossip, but I thought it must not be apparent or some other girl would have figured it out before me.

I poked my head into the next room and let out an audible gasp.

At home, we had an entire shelf of books. It was as tall as I was, and as wide as one of my father’s arms was long. I thought we were rich in literature.

Now I knew it was nothing. The goblin king had more books than the subscription library. The shelves reached to the top of the ceiling and wrapped all around the room, which was large enough to contain a number of tables and chairs. The shelves had been built into the uneven shape of the cavern, and one part of the room was a tucked away nook, a tiny cave of books. Two leather chairs were there, as if waiting for me to claim one of them.

I hardly knew where to begin. There seemed to be some book for every subject one could imagine. I ran my fingers along all the spines, bound in different colors, some in cloth and others in leather. Botany. Farm implements. Animals of the world. Histories of humans, goblins, elves, faeries, and every other thinking creature. Books with huge color plates showing different costumes, different birds, different maps, the placement of bones and muscles within the body. Myths and legends. Philosophy. Astronomy. Astrology. (Maybe it would tell me what kind of man the goblin king really was?)

And then there were novels. He must have owned every novel I had ever heard anyone mention in my entire life, and more besides.

I was still perusing the shelf, and probably had been for an hour already, opening one book and then another (with an occasional sneeze) when I heard a small clink of dishes.

Behind me, a tray of food was on the table. This time, it was a nice warm stew and a cup of chamomile tea—I could smell it all from here. Perfect for eating in the damp, cool interior of the caves, and relaxing before bed.

But where had it come from?

“Hello?” I whispered.

No response.

I wasn’t about to refuse warm food and a book paired together—what heaven!—so I didn’t question it. I arranged myself carefully in one of the leather chairs, the stew in my lap, spoon in one hand and book in the other, the tea within reach. I tried to eat quickly because I knew I only had an hour, but I didn’t have much concept of time underground. Surely I could take fifteen minutes, just to start a chapter…

Suddenly, a grandfather clock behind me began to toll its bell, and I almost sprung out of my chair in terror. Had there been a clock there before? Surely I would have noticed such an impressive clock. It was taller than I was, and displayed the phases of the moon—a clock worthy of a king.

There was no arguing it. The clock chimed eight o’ clock, and I felt sure it was telling me to get into the bath and make myself ready for the goblin king. A chiming clock becomes a very ominous sound when you are expecting such a night as this, I thought, yanking my cloak around my body as I hurried down the uneven corridor, looking for my bedroom. Another small tremor shook the hallway.

Here was a large room with a beautiful carved bed and a large wooden wardrobe to match, with double doors. On one side of the room was a cozy table and chairs, and off to the other side was a porcelain tub, with steam wafting out of it. Warm water awaited me, and a towel as well as a nightgown were already folded neatly across a rack nearby.

I hesitated only briefly before slipping off my clothes. Even in a family that had been fairly well-to-do, a warm bath with clean water all to myself was a luxury that the youngest sister out of four never, ever enjoyed. And I’d had such a long day of walking, the warm water instantly relaxed every muscle in my body. I grabbed the soap and lathered my arms and legs. Such soft soap! Everything here was the finest example of itself I had ever seen. I tipped my head back and looked at the ceiling, realizing that it was quite high up—maybe ten feet above me—and glinting with tiny lights like constellations.

They were constellations, actually, or at least the lights were formed that way. I spotted many that I recognized. Another map, I thought, for studying the stars.

A hand pounded on the door.

“It is time for you to fulfill your bargain, o courageous one,” the goblin king said.

I rushed out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor, and swiped myself with the towel before yanking the nightgown on over my half-wet body. “C-come in,” I said, and the door creaked open.

Chapter Two

The goblin king looked just the same as before. He walked into the room without making any comment on the water spilled everywhere or my damp hair. In fact, he seemed impatient, but I was freshly aware of his strength, his height, his manliness, and all the sharp edges of him. The light here was even more dim than the last time I’d seen him, and yet his pale flesh and golden eyes stood out, as if he were made to be seen in this light.

“Stand at the foot of the bed,” he said without preamble, “and bend over the footboard.”

My heart was in my throat. “Is this how we’re going to do it?”

“Yes.” He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you want to look at my face.”

“Well…I thought that was how it was done. I would rather see your face.”

He bared his fangs and a part of me did want to shudder back, seeing those crowded teeth again. I tried to hide it, but he noticed.

“Down,” he said. “I don’t want to see your face.”

I didn’t exactly move with haste. I was shuddering all over. His eyes were upon me, unblinking, unwavering.

I lowered my head onto the soft, feather-stuffed bedspread. The footboard was pressing against my stomach and I felt a little sick. I edged forward more so it was under my hips—although this forced my bottom into a more prominent position. He pushed the hem of my nightgown up to my waist, and I heard him unbutton his trousers.

“Why do you do this?” I asked, hoping to stall him—hoping to understand, at least.

“Why?”

“Yes, why!”

“This is not a question I will answer for you.”

“Because, I must say…” I twisted my head around to get a look at him. “You don’t seem like you’re enjoying it any more than I am. And it seems to me that if you’re going to be paying a gold coin every night for this, it would add up, and you ought to enjoy it.”

“Oh, I will enjoy it very much, in the moment it’s happening,” he said, and I felt his stiff flesh press against my folds.

I went utterly rigid. My heart was beating so fast that it was hard to keep my voice steady; any moment I was sure that thing between his legs was going to force its way inside me.

“But you wouldn’t like to look at my face, since I do happen to be beautiful, whether I like it or not?”

His fingers gripped my arm, and he leaned down so his breath touched my ear, even as his erection was still pressing against me. “Why do you want to have my name and see my face?” he demanded. “Do you imagine you’re going to fall in love with me, little human? Trust me—you won’t.”

“It sounds to me like you’re the one who has made up your mind not to fall in love.”

He grabbed me now and shoved me onto my back, so I could see the massive cock hanging out of his trousers, and the fierce glow of his eyes.

“Wide-eyed virgins,” he muttered. “A waste of time. But if you really want to see my face, if you really want me to see yours, then—I’ll proceed.”

“Yes.” I forced my speech to be firm.

His gloves slid down my thighs, urging them apart. I gripped the bed sheets in anticipation.

He looked at me and hesitated. It was clear to me then that he wasn’t used to seeing the faces of the girls who came to him either, and he didn’t really want to see me. He wanted to get it over with.

“You are beautiful,” he said, the rasp in his voice turning softer and huskier. “Gods damn you.” My nightgown was still pushed up around my waist, and I blushed as his eyes dropped between my legs, away from my face, as if he wanted to remind himself what he was here for. My hands gripped the bed more tightly. I looked away, let my eyes wander to the ceiling, to the stars, trying to show him that I was ready.

For a moment, nothing happened.

The thumb of his glove slid between my mounds and began to stroke me firmly. I didn’t expect this at all. I could feel the slight stiffness of the leather and the seam that wrapped around where the two sides of the glove were sewn together. Heat rose within me and another finger nudged just inside my entrance—I could feel the hard shape of his claw beneath the glove there.

I felt very warm where he touched me, and unaccountably excited. His fingers met my sudden slickness, and he pushed his finger in a little farther.

I started to feel ashamed, and my thighs drew together, even as I didn’t want him to stop.

Maybe I was the girl Clara didn’t want me to be. Here I was, with the goblin king, in the actual moment, and I didn’t want him to stop.

He did stop.

“Enough of that,” he said, as if to himself more so than me.

He took my knees and pushed them up toward my armpits, so I was displayed for him. He shifted position, so he was over me but I didn’t look at him now. I still felt hot—and wet, and warm. Something much wider than a finger nudged into me, spreading me open. I drew in an urgent breath, my entire body tensing.

“Try to breathe slower,” he said, “and it will not hurt so much.”

It kept going, forcing its way into me.

I tried to breathe. He wasn’t going to wait for me to accept him. It still hurt. I felt stretched and broken, and there was still a lot of him to go. I looked down to see my nether lips stretched wide around his thickness. He spread his arms out over my head, his body looming over me, and I could see the pale skin of his throat as he started pumping his cock into me, each stroke going a little deeper, like trails of fire inside me. Although it was pain, it was not a pain like anything I had felt before. It was like an urgent ache, almost satisfying, like the pain was also the cure for a wound I didn’t know was bleeding.

And yet how small I felt, how powerless and pinned! I felt so far away from home, here under the soaring starry ceilings, that I couldn’t imagine going home. How could I return to my father and sisters and pretend that nothing had happened, after I had been fucked by this creature?

I moaned from the pain as it went on, and he scowled at me. His golden eyes glowed a little like a cat; set in his ghastly pale skin, he looked like some sort of ghoul frowning down at me. I wondered how many of the girls who came to him ended up screaming.

But for all that, there was something in his eyes that looked concerned for me. I didn’t think he was really as fearsome as he tried to make himself out to be.

“I’m sorry,” I panted. “I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

“How do you know that? I don’t care if I hurt you. It’s the nature of the transaction.”

The strokes came faster and deeper then, and my head twisted back, as if I could escape it all. Then I felt him coming inside of me, and I moaned a little from the urgency of his final convulsions. He was silent except for the few smallest grunts. When he withdrew from me I felt empty and sore. My legs drew together, my thigh muscles aching from the position he’d held me in, and everything inside me hurting.

He slid away from me and stood up immediately, yanking his trousers up and buttoning them, like he didn’t want to see me anymore.

“Are you very sore?” he asked sharply.

“Yes…”

He crossed the room and opened a cabinet. I didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing. Between the day of walking, the hot bath and what I’d just experienced, every muscle in my body was simply done. I didn’t want to move, just wanted to sleep. Even inside the cool interior of the cave, the air smelled warm and thick with lust—maybe mine as much as his.

He walked over to me with a smooth pearlescent stone that was shaped very much like his cock.

“Spread your legs.”

“Wh—what now?”

“This is healing stone,” he said. “It will soothe your soreness and keep you ready for me.” He moved my legs apart for me, although I didn’t fight him, and the cool stone slid easily inside my slick entrance. It was not quite as large as he was, but harder, although soft as stones went.

“I’ll be back,” he said.

“When?”

“I’ll try and give you some time to sleep.”

He left without another word, and I pulled the covers over me, but despite how very tired I was, despite the length of stone filling me inside, I felt empty and unfulfilled, like something was missing.

Chapter Three

The Goblin King

SINCE THE CURSE BEGAN, I didn’t care as much for virgins as I once did. It used to be so exciting, being the first man to bring a young woman to the heights of pleasure, the first one to hold her afterward, the first name she ever called out in joy.

Now, it was simply inconvenient. Unromantic. This girl would remember me as a brute who fucked her without regard for her feelings.

But I had no choice.

I waited for her as long as I could. I stood outside her door, my cock erect and throbbing, listening to the small splashing sounds of her bath. Soon…soon, I could take what I needed and be done with it, at least for a few hours.

I never looked at them anymore. I refused to let myself have feelings for a girl who would soon be gone. And usually, I think it was easier for them not to look at me either. Humans didn’t care for goblins.

This one seemed a little different, right from the start.

She was beautiful, in a human way, that was true. Her thick brown hair fell in heavy braids down her back. Her skin was very soft, especially her little feet, which I could tell were not used to walking around barefoot as goblins liked to do. Her hands, however, were a little rough, indicating that she had been cleaning something at home, the soap harsh on her skin. Who was asking a girl like this to clean? Just beneath her thin nightgown I could see the soft swells of her breasts. She had big green eyes with long lashes and a full—rather opinionated—mouth.

She wanted to know my name. She wanted to see my face. She even told me I ought to enjoy it!

And when I lifted up her nightgown, baring her sweet little virgin pussy, it was already wet.

Damn.

No, I told myself. Don’t travel this road. You know it will end badly.

I couldn’t resist letting her see just a glimpse of my old self, the man who would take his time to bring the most beautiful blush to a girl’s face, to make her willing and hungry for me with every inch of her being. My cock was demanding to thrust inside her, but I knew it would be better for her if I took just a moment with her first. I stroked her clit and almost immediately—there it was.

Her face flushed. Her body convulsed gently. Her sweet juices made my glove slick.

This girl was genuinely attracted to me. Or else just very, very ready for someone to touch her like this.

That had to be it. I had to remind myself what she was getting out of this. Gold. Gold that would buy her something she needed, raise her station, pay for some beloved family member’s medical treatment…who knew what. It didn’t matter.

But for the first time in a long while, this didn’t feel routine.

That was what scared me—angered me, even. How dare she make me feel this way? How dare she ask me my name?

I had to get on with it. I had to stop looking at her face and remind myself—she was just a vessel for my relief.

But even as I claimed that relief, I could hear her whimpering, and it tore at my ears. I was hurting her. I wished I could be more gentle. I wished I had more control. I wished I could show her the man I used to be.

Usually, when I was finished, my body calmed down for several hours. But this time, almost as soon as I left her to sleep, my cock was hard again.

And I knew I had to give her time to recover before I claimed her a second time. The second time would be better. The healing stone would soothe her and keep her stretched and ready for me, if I could just wait.

Damn it all.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Four

I’ve never slept alone, I realized. One of my sisters was always there.

But before I knew it, I obviously had slept, because he was waking me up, pulling the stone out of me none too gently. “I’ve waited too long,” he said, as he replaced it with himself. I was barely awake and his warm body was overwhelming mine in the dark. For a moment I said nothing, still half asleep as his cock invaded me, bringing a mixture of pain and pleasure that made me instantly warm and fogged my thoughts. My body didn’t feel like my own; I had the strange feeling that it belonged to him now, and I couldn’t imagine it would ever be mine again.

I was even more flushed when I thought of that. But I could not lose focus.

“Waited too long?” I asked. “This is some sort of curse, isn’t it?”

He said nothing, but of course, curses usually came with a built-in clause that one couldn’t talk about it.

“What are you the king of?” I asked. “Where are your subjects?”

“They are in the caverns,” he said.

“Can I see them?”

“No. Stop talking. I’m tired of raising my hopes for silly money-grubbing little girls.”

“You’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m trying to fuck you.”

He sounded so ferocious that I finally went quiet and let him finish, but this time, after he sprang to his feet and slid the stone back inside of me, I said, “I’m going to figure out what cursed you. I’m not a silly money-grubbing girl.”

“You are not the one to save me,” he said. “You’ve already failed the first test. You’re no better than any other girl; just like the rest of them, you’re a careless little fool who takes whatever she can get. And time is running short.”

I huffed. “Take what I can get? Foolish?” Then I forced myself to stop. This was what he wanted, to goad me into anger. “Test?”

I knew he wouldn’t answer. But he had given me a clue, hadn’t he?

And as if to emphasize the point, the walls shook once again, and one of the little crystals that formed the constellations fell to ground and rolled past his feet.

HE WOKE ME TWICE MORE, using me for the fourth time before the sun rose—I knew this, because I realized there was a small skylight in the ceiling of my room, where I could see the sky lightening.

This was the bargain, of course, that he would have me as many times as he liked before morning, but by this time I was feeling quite exhausted and irritated with it all.

When I let out the slightest little grumpy sound, he looked triumphant. “Yes, there it is,” he said.

“What?”

“Tired of me already. It’s easy enough to make your noble declarations the first time or two.”

Then he held out a gold coin.

“O courageous one,” he said, sarcastically, “Will you remain here for another day and night, and allow me to fuck you tonight as many times as I like?”

“Yes,” I said, looking right into his eyes. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Very well.” He gave me the coin. “Then, I will see you tonight.”

“Where are you going now?”

“To my much-needed rest.” He bowed slightly and I watched his sturdy boots depart.

Breakfast was already waiting for me on the small table on one side of the room, while a warm bath awaited on the other. Both appeared to be staying warm by magic, so I could choose either. I ate first, a magnificent spread of oatcakes with butter, sausages and fresh milk.

I thought I saw something flutter behind me.

“Hello?” I called.

It was very quiet. Did the goblin king have any pets? Or was this one of the mysterious subjects of the goblin kingdom? I got up and looked around the room, even checking under the bed clothes, but I was quite alone.

I kept feeling as if something was watching me.

After eating, I sank into the bath. I scrubbed off all of last night’s sweat and…other things. It felt more embarrassing by day.

As I soaked, I looked at the coin I had earned. A lot of money for a poor family—perhaps a week’s wages for a strong laborer. Not all that much compared to what my family was accustomed to. My father used to make several gold coins in a poor week. I would have to give myself to the goblin king every night for the rest of my life for my family to enjoy the splendor they had known, and I knew that couldn’t happen. He would not keep me for long. They would buy themselves some time if they were smart, but I feared they would squander the money instead.

Damn them, why aren’t they doing anything for themselves?

The thought was unfamiliar to me. All my life, I had never wanted for anything, and no one expected anything of me, so I never resented how spoiled they were. Of my sisters, I was the one who dreamed—of becoming an explorer or a novelist or a scholar. And yet, here I was, stuck selling my body for the sake of the rest of them, just because I had always been intrigued by the puzzle of the goblin king.

Clara was probably at home sewing embroidery or writing letters to her friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hardly thought of me while I was gone.

But what could I do? I wasn’t heartless enough to let them be turned out on the street, even if they were heartless enough to ask this of me.

Time is running short, he said. That must be why girls never remained here for long. There was a time limit on the bargain—the enchantment. There was an enchantment, I was sure of that by now. He didn’t want to invite me to his bed; he was compelled to.

I opened the wardrobe. Voluminous skirts popped out at me, barely contained by the heavy doors. There were dozens of dresses stuffed into the wardrobe, some of them quite fine, but since I planned to explore the caverns even more thoroughly today, I chose one of the plainest ones: a forest green dress with a laced bodice, over a simple linen shift. And for good measure, I tied on my own apron.

I was tempted to return to the library and spend the whole day reading, but if time was indeed short, I had to figure out as much as I could about the king’s situation.

Suppressing a yawn, since I had not exactly slept well, I walked down the hall to begin at the beginning once again. A lantern was waiting for me outside my room, already burning with a steady flame. Where did these thoughtful gestures come from? The glittering walls were bright enough for me to find my way, but the lantern would certainly be useful for more careful exploration, since my bedroom seemed to be the only room with a skylight.

The entrance hall, I noted, was large enough to accommodate a whole gathering of people. And there was the painting that caught my eye the first night, of the dancing goblin maidens. I looked at it closer. Goblin maidens were certainly fearsome looking. All those teeth and claws, strange enough on a man but particularly unfeminine. And yet, they didn’t look ugly to me, the way people said. I thought I wouldn’t mind having fangs and claws myself. No more troublesome suitors! And they were having such fun in the painting. I wouldn’t have minded climbing into the scene, cutting my hair shorter like they did, letting it tumble around my head without bothering to brush it, gallivanting around in the night.

“Where are you?” I whispered to them.

I continued on, poking my nose in every corner, finding tiny passages that led to a music room with everything from lutes to pan pipes, and then finding servant’s quarters, including the well-stocked kitchen. I saw beds for hundreds of people, clothes hanging on pegs, cribs for babies.

But everywhere I went, there was no sign of life. It was eerie.

The one thing I could not seem to find was the king’s bedroom. Where did he sleep? I thought I had searched every inch of the place, except one.

In the deepest depths of the caves, I found a grotto where clear water flowed by in a river, and the walls were covered in moss and colorful lichen, with tiny white flowers that somehow bloomed without ever seeing the sunshine. “Oh my,” I said, when I came upon it. “Is this the source of water for the house?” (I was starting to talk to myself by now, for lack of company.)

I approached the river, picking my way over rocks that were treacherously slick, for the ceilings and floors all seemed to be excreting moisture, and all around me I could hear the little pit-pat of water, even over the sound of the swiftly moving river.

But there was something—some kind of altar or construct—on the other side of the river—

I gasped.

It was a glass coffin. And from here, I could see a beautiful man sleeping inside. He was so beautiful, so perfect and golden with his shining hair and white and gold clothes, that I thought he must be one of the fey race.

I wanted to get a better look. I was standing right on the edge of the river now. The current was fast, but it didn’t look very deep or wide. Currents could be deceptively dangerous, I knew, and yet…I might never see anything so remarkable again. A fair gentleman, frozen in sleep, like one of the sleeping kings who waits to be summoned in a time of need…

Kings.

I was about to put my toes in the water when I stopped, and thought of the goblin king, the king I had already known. He was not so beautiful, but he needed my help, I knew he did. Something was tormenting him, forcing him into this position. He had already given me a number of small clues that he wanted someone to set him free, but he didn’t trust me, had probably given up hoping.

What was this man in the coffin? Why would he be sleeping here in the king’s cave?

It made me think of the legends of the fey, luring humans to their grand feasts of food, offering them fine clothes, only to find in the morning that it was all made of bark and moss. Bad goblins would steal from a man; bad faeries would deceive.

A test, I thought.

But what if the test was, in fact, to be brave enough to cross the river? Oh, how I wanted to cross, wanted to lift the glass and touch the man’s skin. I felt sure he would be living and warm, perhaps waiting for me…

No! I took a step back. The desire burning in me was too strong. It spoke of magic.

I failed the first test, but I’m not going to fail again.

Chapter Five

What else was there to do? I had searched everywhere. Now I had an excuse to go to the library. It might be the only place for answers.

I quickly realized that the one subject missing from the library was magic. There was not a single tome about enchantments or curses or even common household spells, not even “The Hedge Witch’s Book of Advice” which nearly every literate person owned just after their holy writ.

I was starting to feel a little despairing by the time dinner came around. I ate alone in my room, surrounded by so much beautiful food, and yet I couldn’t stop murmuring to myself nervously. “How much time do I have? What test did I fail? I don’t want to go home… I don’t think I could bear to go home, in fact. My family doesn’t care about anything much, except having money and stylish clothes and impressing everyone. Sometimes I wonder if they even care about me. I think I'd rather be a goblin and dance around in the moonlight, but…” I trailed off, poking at my soup.

The table before me was set with bread and butter, a joint of beef, spring peas, red wine…too much food for me.

I suddenly noticed that the butter dish was still vibrating. At first I thought it was another tremor. But no, it was just the dish. I picked it up, to make sure there wasn’t a bug underneath it making it move. The butter had been formed by a mold, and had the shape of a rose set in it.

I put it down and the butter hopped. My silverware shifted position.

“Wha?”

Now I saw something out of the corner of my eye. The wardrobe opened, and a clean nightdress floated out onto the bed.

“Are you here after all?” I asked. “Goblins?”

Everything on the table jittered a little bit. The jam drew closer to the butter.

“Are you the king’s subjects?”

The silverware straightened up.

“Hmm. How about this? Fork and knife, can you cross positions to indicate no?”

The fork and knife just spun around in frantic circles.

“Maybe you can’t answer questions…”

The fork and knife shifted position again, forming a right angle, and then the knife on the top began ticking down like the minute hand on a clock, in even intervals. Tick…tick…tick…

“I don’t have much time?”

They reverted back to their original position.

“Well, I know that,” I said. “Believe me, I’m trying my best.” I picked up my spoon full of soup. “I feel a little strange putting you in my mouth if you’re really listening to me…but it can’t be helped, can it?” I slurped carefully before continuing.

“Let me think about all of this,” I said. “Goblins don’t usually have much to do with humans, except to steal apples out of the orchards and that sort of naughty thing. But then, ten years ago, this goblin king appeared, offering a gold coin to every human woman who spends a night with him. Let me suppose that he doesn’t actually want to do this, but he has to accept. Does he have to accept? Even if he thinks the girl is completely odious? It seems like the urge is very overwhelming for him, so I’m assuming that one way or another, yes, he must accept, even as he knows that human women usually find him ugly and only want him for his coins. He must’ve made some witch very upset.”

The dishes rattled a little.

“That part is easy enough to guess,” I said. “But…how to break the curse? That’s where it gets hard. It must have something to do with the man in the coffin, but I feel as if he is there to trick me, and if I’m not supposed to go to him, then what action do I take? How much time do I have?”

The butter started hopping up and down again, even more urgently than before. In fact, it managed to plant itself right in the middle of the plate of peas.

“Butter? What are you trying to tell me? …the rose? Is that it?”

The knife and fork formed the ticking clock again.

“The rose,” I repeated. “That was the first test…wasn’t it? I picked a rose from the garden when I wasn’t supposed to. And if that started the clock ticking, then I can only stay until the rose has wilted. Is that it?”

The butter hopped again. I felt like it was nodding.

I rubbed my head. “That would explain why none of the girls stay very long.”

I enjoyed the prospect of solving a puzzle, although I did wonder what it meant for me. After all, what did it take to crack a curse? Perhaps I had to sacrifice myself or something terrible, and that was why no one ever helped the goblin king. Equally possible was that most human girls didn’t have much sympathy for a goblin, especially one who made sure to get his money’s worth for that coin.

“I understand that you probably can’t help me as much as you like,” I told my animated little table spread. “You must be so frustrated. I’ll do my best to figure it all out.”

When the goblin king came to me that night, I was in bed with the lantern at my side, writing down everything I knew about the situation. He gave me a stern look. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to lift your curse,” I said. “It was the rose, wasn’t it? The first test.”

I could tell I had surprised him. For a brief moment, his gruffness lifted and I saw the faintest light of hope in his eyes. But then he walked over to me and grabbed the papers from me, throwing them aside. “Promise me you will stop this nonsense,” he said with a snarl, all his fangs bared, leaning close to my face.

“But—why? Don’t you want someone to set you free? What about your subjects?”

“You are only here for one purpose.” He grabbed me and flipped me over on the bed, pulling my legs down to the end and draping me over the footboard, the way he wanted me to be on the first night. “I never should have let you look at me,” he said.

He threw up my nightdress and thrust his cock straight into me, holding my hips so I didn’t dare think of moving. Last night, he was somewhat gentle. Tonight, he drove me so hard that I was rendered completely speechless, save a little grunting moan that came out of me with every thrust.

By the time he emptied into me and threw my legs back onto the bed, I was furious.

“Why?” I snapped. “How dare you! I’m trying to help you. I want to help you. I don’t think you’re such a bad man deep down, but you are trying your damnedest to convince me otherwise, aren’t you? To push me away?”

“Do you think you’re the first girl to try to save me?”

“No, but…” I hesitated. He was probably right. Did I think I was more clever than anyone else? Perhaps I did. “Can’t you let me try? Can’t we…can’t we at least enjoy the time we have, even if I fail?”

“It’s easy to give yourself permission to fail. You’ll return home to your family. You might be poor, but at least you have them at all. But I will still be here, waiting for the next girl to try her luck with me, and if I’m especially unlucky, she will be a girl like you. A curious girl, a clever girl, a brave girl…but never enough.”

“You,” I said, my voice quavering a little, “are a coward. Maybe the curse is hard to break, but you’ve given up. What about your subjects? Are they condemned to be forks and butter dishes?”

“My subjects…have communicated their presence you?”

Clearly, this didn’t happen often. “They did…”

“Why would they trust you?”

I hesitated. “I was talking to myself. Talking about—the test and—how I’d rather be a goblin maiden than go back to Fairhaven.”

He laughed. Well, I guess it was a laugh—it was so quick, and so dry, that it was gone almost before I knew it had happened. He sat on the bed beside me, twisting to face me, throwing one leg onto the covers. “Why would a human girl wish to be a goblin?”

“I—I don’t know if I really do,” I said hastily, because you did have to be careful with curses. “But at least, in the painting, the goblin maidens are having so much fun. And being a goblin has always sounded like fun. You assume I have a family to go back to, and strictly speaking, I do. But they don’t understand me. I’m not even sure they like me. And as soon as I return, they’ll be pressuring me to use my beauty to charm a husband.”

He leaned down on one elbow, close to me now in a more relaxed way than he had been before. While I was wearing just a thin nightdress, he was still fully dressed down to his boots and cloak. His hair, black and wild and a little coarse, much like the goblin maidens except a little shorter, fell across his brow and barely touched his shoulders.

“It was a marvelous place, once,” he said.

“What was it like?”

“We had dances on every full moon. Bonfires, and song… Even on an ordinary day, these halls were full of people and good spirits, stories and jokes around the dinner table. A lot of people don’t realize what a good sense of humor goblins have.”

“What? How could they not? You are such a wit,” I said sarcastically.

“I have learned my lessons,” he said. “Perhaps a ruler should be serious. But it’s too late. As you say, I rule over butter dishes and forks. They are trapped, and I can either blame myself, or the witch who cursed me. The latter breeds bitterness, and the former, despair. Perhaps it is as you say. I’ve given up. But I have no control over who can lift the curse. And if anyone grew to care for me enough to lift it, I would fear for her life.”

I looked down. This was the thing I feared, that lifting the curse would put me in peril. Was I brave enough for that? My bravery had never been tested until I came here.

He drew back a little. My silence revealed my fear.

“Of course I’m afraid,” I said, before he could accuse me of being another girl like all the rest. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. Surely I can be scared and brave at the same time.”

“You do make it hard for me to not put one small shard of faith in you.” He pulled away. “I should let you sleep for a little while.”

“Wait, I…” I already missed his warmth. “What about the healing stone?”

“You shouldn’t need it after the first night.”

“I just…”

He brushed his hair back, sort of tucking it behind his horns, and scratched the back of his head as he regarded me. “Did you like it the other night when I touched you?” he asked, his voice deliciously low.

“Yes…I must admit that I did.”

“You must admit?”

“I liked it,” I said, more bluntly, but now I was twisting the hem of my nightgown between my fingers nervously.

He climbed back into bed beside me and put one hand over my body, his head craned down to look at me. “Would you like me to touch you like that again?”

I nodded.

He tipped up my chin. “Yes,” I gasped.

Still looming over me and looking at my face, he pulled my nightdress up again, revealing my bare skin. Once again, his thumb nudged between my nether lips and found the tender little nub of pleasure there. He began to circle his finger there, very slowly, painfully slowly. I was already very swollen and sensitive, and immediately I sighed, arching into his touch. The sensation of his glove, a little bit stiff, rough at the seams, against my tender skin—the claws just beneath. I knew they would tear me up if they were set free, and sometimes I could feel the suggestion of their edges, but their danger was tampered by the leather.

I was quickly growing very warm, and I lifted my heavy braids away from my neck and shoulders, spreading my arms so more of the cool air would touch my skin, as his thumb continued its exquisitely slow explorations.

I spread my knees, encouraging him to touch me harder and deeper. My body was responding as if of its own accord.

Now two more fingers slid into my already slick passage, and he drove them into me, skillfully mixing the fluttering sideways motion of his thumb with firm plunging thrusts of his fingers. I was starting to moan again. I was too warm.

I looked at him, wild hair and golden eyes, his face so intent that it was quite impossible to imagine he had ever laughed much. Nothing about his features would have been regarded handsome in Fairhaven. Besides his unearthly eyes that glowed in the night and the sickly pallor of his skin, besides that even when his mouth was closed you could see the faintest suggestion of the shape of his crowded fangs, his nose was a little crooked and brutishly shaped. Perhaps it was hard to find a man truly ugly when he could produce such sensations, but I rather liked his strange appearance, I thought.

Of course, it was true, compared to the golden fey man sleeping in the grotto…

“I must have you,” he said, with urgency.

His trousers were tight again.

“Then have me,” I said breathlessly.

This time, he pulled me to my feet and stood me between his legs, facing away from him. I felt him loose his cock from his trousers. He hooked his feet around my feet and nudged my feet apart, guiding me down until the tip of him found my entrance.

“Sit down,” he said.

I was excited by the command; this was the first time he had allowed me to have control of fitting myself to him rather than the other way around. I wiggled onto the head, and then the length of him slid into me more easily, his feet continuing to push my legs farther apart, until I was spread out, with him deep inside me.

He started to thrust into me while his hand reached around and resumed stroking me. I was already so sensitive. Almost immediately, I started seeing stars. My hands gripped his knees. “Oh—oh, goblin king, I do wish I knew your name!” And then I could say nothing else. I was almost crying. I had never felt such a thing, my body pulsing and clenching around his hardness, all of my skin shivering with pleasure.

As it passed away, it left me spent and tender, but hearing my cries die into moans only seemed to encourage him to rock into me harder. I didn’t even try to stop him; I wasn’t sure he could stop if he wanted to.

He suddenly whipped off one glove and then the other, revealing his bare hands and sharp claws. The sight of them thrilled me and frightened me at once. I didn’t think he would hurt me on purpose, but why had he taken them off?

He ripped the front of my nightdress. He couldn’t easily get it off me entirely, but he pulled the fabric away from my shoulders and breasts, my stomach and thighs, leaving it bunched at my wrists and back.

“My name is Nyar,” he said.

“Nyar?”

“It isn’t very handsome, is it?”

“No, I like it,” I said. “I would have liked to have had it earlier. My name is Sabela.”

“Sabela…”

Hearing my name in his ear seemed to change everything. I understood in an instant why he didn’t want to exchange names. Names made things real. It was harder to kill an animal if you named it. Maybe it was also harder to leave a man. Or lose a girl…

“I could fuck you all night, Sabela…but then you would have no energy left to think of breaking curses…”

It was hard to believe, in such a moment, that I would ever have energy again.

He wrapped his hands around my thighs, being very careful of his claws, and stood up, so I was impaled on his cock, his hands on my legs the only other support. I had to reach back to grab his arms for fear of falling forward, and he steered me around so I could grab one of the bed posts. He let my legs drop and drove into me. His lust had an animal quality. My arms were burning from grabbing the bedpost and yet the sensations of his body inside me were so strong that I thought I could hold the bedpost all night if he wished me to. My nightgown hung tattered around me.

“I want to stay here forever,” I gasped.

He put his hand over my mouth, as if he didn’t want me to say such things. But it had just slipped out.

When he finished, he pulled out of me and stripped off the rest of my nightdress, tucking me into bed, my bare skin between the sheets. I smiled at him sleepily.

“I may have made a terrible mistake tonight,” he said.

“What do you do between times?” I murmured.

“Probably much the same things as you do. I have a meal. I keep up with my sword and fighting exercises. I try to read, or take a walk in the moonlight.”

“I’d like to come with you some time.”

“‘Some time’, you say…as if we have much of that.” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger, almost absently. “If you were the one, Sabela…”

“Why don’t I stay up at night and spend more time with you?”

“You can’t. We would get nothing done. Don’t you understand?”

“The curse forces you to be alone,” I said. “I see.” Clearly, when he was around me, he was almost overwhelmed by his urges. It must be so with every woman, and meanwhile his subjects were given inanimate forms so they could give him meals and clean clothes and well-kept quarters, but no companionship.

He shook his head. “Sleep, for now. I will return when I must.”

Chapter Six

Nyar

IN THE EARLY days of my curse, the cruelest part seemed to be the loneliness. In between my visitors, the caverns were quiet. I remembered when they had rung with laughter, and with frivolous joy, I had reigned over them all.

When the women came to me, even though their very presence was a large part of the curse, I was glad to have companionship. Where I had once seduced only the most charming women available, now I had no choice in the matter. The only stipulation in the curse was that they must be of child-bearing age, unmarried, and human.

Humans were not very amenable to goblins, but they were amenable to money, and most of the women who appeared at my door were experienced prostitutes or very desperate.

I knew this, and I tried to make the experience pleasant for them, as much as I could. I had never been a cruel man, or at least not intentionally.

Each time, it was much the same. They almost always picked a rose. I was awakened from my sleep when they passed through the gate, and it was never enough time to reach the door and stop them. Maybe it wasn’t possible to stop them, in any case. I could count a handful who had resisted the lure of the flowers of their own accord.

My enchanted home, still graced with the presence of my people if not their voices and dancing feet, would provide a warm meal and bath for them. By the time they went to their beds, my loins would be aching with desperate desire, even if the woman was ugly, scowling, and sharp-tongued. The anticipation of relief was the only happiness I knew anymore.

And yet, I tried to remain the gentleman I had once been. I could usually manage at least five or ten minutes before I had to fuck them. I would come to their bed, summoning all my compliments and charm. I would read their own deepest desires (they almost always had them) and try my best to tease them to the forefront. I would touch them in places that made them shudder and gasp, my ugliness hidden by the shadows, until they began to relax beneath my expert hands. I would ask their names, and not hesitate to tell them my own, so that when I was bringing them to their peak they knew what to scream.

But no, it was not long before this plan showed its flaws. When I made love to women, they were inclined to fall in love with me—or into infatuation, at least—and I might develop feelings for them, especially certain ones. The ones who reminded me of someone I had once known and loved were the worst. A wild lock of hair falling across a pale brow, a wicked gleam in a girl’s eye, a raised eyebrow, an unexpected quip—such things might ruin a night. Or a month of nights.

Because they always had to leave. They were always tripped up by the second test, just as they had been by the first. And in the rare event that they did pass the second test, when the rose wilted, they failed the third.

Three tests the witch had set for any woman who hoped to save my life.

It was not long before I realized I would die before my kingdom was restored. No one would pass such tests, for they required, above all, a girl who was capable of seeing the good in me and loving me for it, all within the space of a week.

And rapidly, all that was once good within me was dwindling.

I tried to fight it at first. This is what she wants, I thought, stubbornly. If I give in, she will have won.

But could anyone not have crumpled under such a life? I gave my heart over to hope again and again, only to be left alone at the end, every damn time.

Soon all that was left was my carnal desires. The women, a parade of selfish of flesh, of hands reaching for their coins. I had grown exhausted by love, restraint, and even conversation. I thrust my cock into them without any concern for their pleasures; they knew what they were getting into.

I had ruined it now, my careful detachment.

I had hope again, tonight, because this girl—

Sabela…

My subjects had also long since stopped revealing themselves to my visitors, but they trusted her. She had given me so many signals of hope. Her endless questions, her curiosity, her apparent attraction to my beastly features. She was intrigued by the life of a goblin maiden! Such a statement, coming from the mouth of a human girl. I could imagine her now, with leaves in her hair and soil ground into the soles of her feet, after a night of revels, catching my hand and asking me for one more dance. She would fit in, I thought, even with her human beauty.

For the first time in a long while, I wanted to make someone happy.

I thought of all this as I strolled my moonlit grounds, where fires had once burned and feasts had once been savored under the stars. I already missed her, not just my body but my mind. But as always, after a couple of hours, the physical urge was unbearable. My cock was straining against my trousers as I practically ran to her room. I stroked it before I entered, dying for relief, but my hand was incapable of satisfying me now.

Even as desperate as I was, I hesitated before waking her. She was so beautiful, her long chestnut hair spilled across the pillow, her pink lips so kissable. I pulled the covers off her body, admiring her full breasts, her curves. She was not as wiry and nimble-looking as a goblin maiden, but rather more soft and fertile looking.

I wanted her to enjoy waking up.

I pulled the sheet away from her hips and legs, which were already slightly spread, as if she was leaving herself ready for me. Gods, it was even harder to wait when I thought of that. I laid down between her legs and gently stroked her clit with my tongue.

She stirred, just as I wished, with a soft moan.

“Nyar?” she whispered. “What are you…oh…” Her thighs fell open, and she dragged her hand across her forehead, her entire body writhing and stirring. I could hardly stand it, but I forced myself to go slow with her. The joining would be all the better when I allowed myself to have it.

Damn it, you told yourself you would never do this again.

I could feel my true self stirring, wanting to let this girl in.

And then she will be gone, like all the others.

I teased my tongue at her entrance, tasting her wetness. She smelled sweet and thick with arousal. She was so very ready for me, but if I could bring her to climax first…

Growing impatient, I thrust my tongue inside her several times, drawing small gasps from her, before returning to her swollen clit, stroking it fast.

“Oh, please,” she cried, urging me on. Her feet wrapped around my back, and then she moaned with a complete lack of abandon. Her climax pulsed under my tongue. Finally, she wriggled away from me.

I could wait no longer. I spread her thighs for me, and she resisted just a little.

“I’m so tender now. Why do you do this to me?” she groaned.

I did love to fuck her after she had already come once, when she was burning inside, her limbs as limp as a rag doll, her eyes hooded lazily and her mouth slightly open, like she was trying to look surprised and couldn’t manage it.

Her protests didn’t last. She looked into my eyes and smiled. “Nyar…” Her voice was a whisper, full of feeling.

It had been a long time since I kissed anyone. Kisses were such an intimate gesture that I had long since stopped sharing them with anyone. I wanted to kiss her now, as much as I wanted to fuck her. And it terrified me.

I was falling hard and fast. Getting careless with my heart.

Stop this now, before it gets any worse.

I looked away from her, baring my fangs in a grimace, trying to focus only on the mounting sensations that would soon lead to a release. I was getting very rough with her, and she was starting to make her incoherent little mewling sounds again, and I bit my lip until I drew blood. Don’t look at her.

When I had finished, I pulled out of her and started walking to the door as I buttoned up my trousers.

“Nyar?” Her voice held both concern and irritation now, and it was the irritation that killed me more than anything. Irritation was such a normal sort of emotion. It tricked me into believing I had a normal sort of life. “Did I do something wrong? You seem upset.”

“You have done nothing wrong, except to exist,” I said. “I’ll be back again.”

The curse was cruel in that way, too; it would force me to return to her, tempting me each time into making conversation, giving her pieces of myself. I could not storm out and be done with her.

But perhaps she understood that I was regretting how far I had gone with her already. Twice more I returned, and she never spoke my name. In the morning, I asked her the same question as before, and she answered a simple yes.

I was more relieved than usual when I was able to retire to the glass coffin where I dreamed so heavily of the life I had once had.

Chapter Seven

I slept in that morning, knowing that once the sun rose, he would not come for me anymore. My bath and breakfast waited, staying warm for me all that time. Finally, I crawled out of bed. My body ached in a way that felt so good that as soon as I got out of the bath I was wet between the legs, thinking of the way Nyar had touched me and tasted me and even the rough way he was later on.

I liked every side of him. Why should this be? Had I been waiting all my life for someone to touch me like this, and I had never known it?

Maybe I had. It felt like something forbidden, something dark and full-flowered, like reading books on topics the church didn’t like. And I had always enjoyed that.

Looking back I felt as if he had always been the focus of my most secret thoughts. The picture of him in the book—the strangeness of him— It did something to me. It was as if I could admit who I really was, now that I was here.

I had increasingly greater sympathy for the king, to be aroused all the time, because it was hard to think of anything else in that state, and already I was wishing he was here to wake me with his touch. But I must.

I changed into a fresh linen shift and another simple dress, this one a dark red wool. I liked the simplicity of the clothing here, as I had never been one to fuss over my wardrobe. I hated how long it took to get dressed and fix my hair for dinner parties, while my sisters reveled in it.

The first thing I did was to check on the rose.

I was immediately dismayed to see a slight curl at the edges of the petals.

“Oh, no,” I said. “But you have water… Is there something I can give you to help you last longer?”

I rushed to the library, tearing through books, looking for something on keeping flowers fresh.

A pitcher hopped into the room, accompanied by a cup and a knife. I stopped what I was doing. “Hello,” I said. “Can you help the rose live any longer? I don’t know what to do. At this rate I’ll probably only have one more night.”

The pitcher tipped forward into the water cup, but there was no water inside.

“You need water?”

I walked forward to the pitcher, and it began to jump out of reach. It led me all the way down into the grotto. The knife followed along, but I wasn’t sure why it was here—just curious, perhaps. Or at least I thought so, until I reached the grotto, the pitcher and knife stopping on the edge of the rocks after very carefully maneuvering toward the river.

My eyes locked, once again, on the beautiful man in the coffin.

“Who is he?” I whispered. “I so wish you could give me a clue.”

I took a step closer and the knife jumped in front of me, brandishing its blade.

I held up my hands. “Okay. I’m sorry. You don’t want me to go to him, do you?”

The knife fell flat, but as it did, the entire cave shook. Pebbles and rocks fell all around me, and I covered my head with a shriek, spreading my feet out a little to keep my balance on the slippery rocks. The waters of the river churned, as if angry, sloshing my boots.

Come closer.

A voice seemed to speak to me, as if from the river itself.

Come closer, child, don’t be afraid.

“Who are you?”

I am the spirit of the river.

The voice sounded female, rich and liquid, speaking directly to my ears as if the spirit was standing beside me.

You want a closer look, don’t you? Well, come on. I won’t hurt you. Cross my waters and come see him…

To demonstrate, the current immediately slowed down. Now it was so gentle that I could have lifted my skirts without fear and walked across the riverbed, even though it would probably reach up almost the entire length of my legs.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sorry, but…I’m not sure it feels right to me. I am here to see Nyar, not this other fellow.”

Fellow? The voice laughed. You call a prince of the fey a ‘fellow’? He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, I wager. And he is waiting for you. He’ll wake up if you give him a kiss.

Last night, I had wanted so badly for Nyar to kiss me, and for a moment, I thought he might. I had opened my mouth in anticipation. In my imagination, I felt his warm mouth meet mine, tasted my sex on his tongue, felt the brush of his fangs to my lips. But it had not happened. That was when he grew distant, when his lovemaking turned back to mere rutting.

What if the man in the coffin was Nyar?

What if this was his curse, to be a beautiful fairy prince only when he slept, and a lustful goblin at night?

I could imagine the beautiful man in the coffin blinking his eyes open in wondering joy as my lips met his. Even though I did not find Nyar all that ugly, it was still tempting to imagine coming home with such a handsome fairy prince…

I shook my head, coming to my senses. Nyar was a goblin, living in a goblin cavern, with paintings of his people on the walls. The beautiful man must be an illusion or a lure of some kind. I took a step back.

Where are you going?

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not interested.”

Not interested?

“I think you’re trying to trick me.”

The slow current immediately quickened, the waters swelling past the banks, splashing against the rocks as if throwing a temper tantrum.

The pitcher was quivering nearby and I remembered that it had led me here. I still wanted to try and get some water from the river to feed the rose.

Of course, now the water was angry at me. I grabbed the pitcher and flattened my body out across the rocks so there was no way I could slip and fall, crawling forward on my hands and knees, even though the jagged rocks hurt my knees and my clothes were getting soaked. I clutched the pitcher tight and dipped it in the water.

A huge wave of water swept forward, drenching me, and I almost lost my grip on the pitcher. I tried to scramble back, scraping my knee, as the water lashed me again, this time spraying up into my face rather than down over my head. I choked on it, the horrid sensation of water in my nostrils, and blinked it out of my eyes, edging back blindly now.

I felt something grab my hand and try to yank me toward the river. A hand, formed of water, was pulling on me.

I struggled against the grip. I didn’t want to let the pitcher go. I tried to kick the watery arm, but it had no body except the river itself, and my strikes seemed to have no effect. I heard the sound of laughter.

“You’re the witch!” I shrieked. “A water fairy! Why did you curse him?”

He tricked my daughter! Stay away, my dear, he will only break your heart as he did hers!

“I don’t believe that. It’s been ten years! Whatever lesson you wanted to teach him, I think he’s learned!”

The water splashed up into my face again. Every inch of me was soaking wet, and the arm yanked me forward so I was about to lose my position on the rocks. In a moment I would be drowning—

But then the knife flew out and struck the arm, severing it, and it lost its grip on me, turning back into a river again. The knife slipped into the water and the river caught it up in a whirlpool.

“Knife!” I cried. I wished I knew its name. It was one of my king’s subjects, and if it was lost in the river, I would never knows its name or its face… I tried to reach for the knife, but the pitcher immediately tugged me back and I realized that the knife had chosen to sacrifice itself so that I might escape.

I scrambled backward and got to my feet as the river carried the knife away. I watched it disappear beneath the rocks where the river vanished through a tunnel.

I screamed with frustration and anger. I had lost one of Nyar’s subjects. The pitcher shivered in my hand, encouraging me to get away from the river before it tried to strike at me again.

I was biting back tears now as I picked my way over the rocks. I didn’t want the river witch to hear me cry.

When I was back in the safety of the hall, I tried to wipe my face on the hem of my soaked dress. “I’ll have to tell Nyar that I lost one of you…I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

The pitcher, of course, could not really reply. It just felt heavy in my hand.

I sloshed down the hall, shivering a little. My hair, my dress, my shoes…every inch of me was sopping. But before I dried off, I had to see if the water would revive the rose. At least then I would know the loss of the knife was not in vain.

I poured the water from the pitcher into the vase.

Almost immediately, the petals uncurled, looking fresh and soft as the day they were picked. I put my hand to my heart in relief. “So that’s a few more days,” I said. “But…it will be a risk to go to the grotto again.”

I stared into the petals of the rose, willing it to live forever, but I knew its life was fleeting and fragile.

“That must be the second test,” I said. “Was it to water the rose, or resist the lure of the water?”

The pitcher rattled in response, but I didn’t know what that meant, and I already knew the enchanted objects were forbidden from giving me definitive answers.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” I said. “That should mean I only have one more test to face, but…I’m sure it will be the hardest one.”

As I was speaking, I heard clinking, rattling and stomping farther down the hall. A broom was leading the way, swishing along the floor. Silverware hopped along; plates rolled; the grandfather clock was slowly edging forward. All the denizens of the castle began to gather around me in the front room, as if paying their respects.

The sight was heartbreaking, and a little eerie. I had such a sense of life around me, and yet there was no speech or breath, no footsteps, just the rather distressing sounds of household objects tumbling out of their proper places in life.

I didn’t know what to do but bow to them. “I suppose you know that one of the kitchen knives sacrificed him or herself for me, then. Well, for Nyar, really, as it should be. I believe he must have been a good king to you, for you all to serve him faithfully and try to help him like this. I wish I knew Knife’s real name. I wish I knew what to say. All I can do is promise you that I will do everything within my power to free you from this curse.” I looked at the painting of the dancing maidens. “You will see days like this again.”

One of the towels leapt up to dry my hair, and a nice dry dress flew up to hover in front of my face. Just as I started to wonder—were my clothes goblin spirits too?—I realized it was held up by two clothespins. I quickly whipped off my damp gown and replaced it with the new one. If I were ever lucky enough to be the goblin king’s bride, all his subjects would have seen me naked, but it was hard to be too self conscious when I assumed half the objects in my room had already seen a lot more…

The dress they had brought me was not from my wardrobe. It was much like the dresses in the portrait. A goblin dress, not a human dress. The skirt was shorter, for freer movement, and it had outer sleeves that went down to my elbows, but below that, just a shift that could be rolled up to bare my forearms. I had to unlace the bodice generously, because I obviously had larger breasts than most goblin women. The bodice and skirt were simple brown wool trimmed with thin gold braid, the only bit of flash.

I understood that the wardrobe had been stocked with dresses for human visitors, but the offering of this dress meant they had accepted me as one of their own. “Thank you for this,” I said. “It’s exactly how I like to dress.”

A spoon and a buttonhook were making attempts to unlace my wet boots. I took their cue and removed them, and my stockings too.

Now a pair of scissors came dancing up to me, snipping at me. It pointed at the painting and snipped, and then jumped up to my hair.

“You want to make a goblin maiden out of me, do you?” I pulled my braids loose. “Go right ahead. It’s a nuisance anyway. Just…” I eyed its vigorous motions nervously. “Be careful of my ears.”

As the towel wrapped around my shoulders, the scissors went to work, expertly shearing away hair it had taken years to grow. Should I have been horrified? Somehow I wasn’t. My head felt much lighter and when a hand mirror came dancing up to me and I had a look, I saw that my dark hair now formed fetching little curls around my neck and shoulders and a few locks tumbled across my brow in a way that looked messy but expertly planned.

“It’s perfect,” I said.

For a moment, I almost forgot how upsetting it had been to lose the brave knife and battle the waters. But the merry mood was fleeting. Time was ticking away, and I didn’t know what to do. I wandered through all the rooms again, searching for clues. The goblins were everywhere, hopping and rolling around, but they could not answer my questions.

The sun set so fast, and before I knew it, I had to return to my bedchamber to wait for Nyar. I picked at my food. Each hour lost felt like a physical pain within me, like I was dying for not being able to save him.

As soon as he appeared, I knew he had no idea one of his subjects had died. They all seemed to know immediately that they had lost one of their own, but not him. They must be able to communicate amongst themselves, but the curse shut him out.

“Sabela.” A small smile crossed his face. “What happened to you today? It appears my people have had some fun.”

“Yes, but first…I have to tell you something. One of the—the kitchen knives—fell into the river. Before I could reach it…it…”

“What?” He pounded his fist into the door. “You were down at the river?”

“To get water for the rose.”

“And…” He seemed to realize something. “You’re still here.”

“Yes, I am, but—“

He looked at me, pained. “So you encountered her, did you?”

“She’s the one who cursed you.”

“Yes. But…” He put his hand to my face. He wasn’t wearing the gloves today, and his touch was careful. “She didn’t hurt you.”

“She certainly tried. She might have pulled me in if the knife hadn’t slashed at her, but…then it fell into the water and…I couldn’t do anything…! Will it die? Or be lost forever?”

“Truth to be told, I don’t know. But it did what it intended to do. I know that much.”

Nyar put an arm around me, his claws slowly tightening around my bodice until I felt the pinprick of them digging into my skin through the fabric. He cursed. “The worst of it is, when the curse happened and all my subjects were cursed with me, I never knew who was who, and they’ve never been able to tell me. I don’t even know who I’ve lost. But I have my suspicions… Garor was my loyal friend and bodyguard. It seems like something he would do. I can hardly mourn him when I’m not sure, though, can I?” He covered his face with a hand. “All of this, and my curse is unabated. I still need you as much as ever, but it seems disrespectful to even think of it.”

I placed my hand on his arm. “Why don’t you relax and let me ease your suffering rather than your taking me?”

“Ease my suffering…” He scoffed.

I drew him down onto the bed, giving him a little shove toward the pillows, ignoring his protests as he would have ignored mine. I unbuttoned his trousers myself and, knowing that it would only pain him to be teased, I took his cock into my mouth right away. It felt so good when he had done it to me last night, I thought he might like the same. I wasn’t used to having something so large in my mouth; it was hard not to gag, so I couldn’t go as deep as he might have wanted, but nevertheless I tried to use my lips and tongue as best I could, and judging by the sound of the pleased little growl in his throat, it was working. Encouraged, I stroked my mouth over him, going a little deeper each time.

His hips started to move with my rhythm, and then he put his hands on my head and started trying to take control of it, and I was forced to stop, with an embarrassed laugh.

“I can’t do it yet; I’ll choke.”

“Then, come here and we’ll finish as we always do. I can’t wait for you any longer.”

Always. I liked that word, it made it sound as if we had been doing this forever and would  keep doing it forever. And that was how it felt to me. I could no longer imagine my old life, before I had been seduced by a goblin king every night.

He was still on his back on the bed. I hitched up my skirts and climbed onto him, immediately starting to ride him. He lifted his legs, putting his feet down, so he had more leverage to encourage my rhythm to go faster. I liked the way my buttocks and thighs felt nested where his legs met his body. I felt safe with him.

“They’ve tried their best to make a goblin maiden out of you, hmm?” he asked me.

“I’m afraid I’ll never look quite as…dangerous.”

“No, but…” He reached up to flick his claw at a lock of my hair. “You still look ready for trouble.”

“I think I’m in trouble right now,” I said, with a grin. I reached for the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoned a few. “I never get to see much of you like you’ve seen me.”

“I suppose I’m in too deep to deny you anything,” he said.

But then I sobered, thinking of the night before. “Last night…when you suddenly got so rough with me…”

“Let’s not speak of it.”

“I know it scares you, Nyar. It scares me, too, knowing I might fail. If I think about it too much…” I clenched my hands around his shirt before shoving it off his pale shoulders.

He pulled me against his bare chest and kissed me. His tongue in my mouth, his hardness inside me…it was almost too much to bear. I wrapped my hands around his back, beneath his shirt, my fingers digging into his slender muscles. With our bodies and legs tangled, he rolled me over, which was just as well because I was starting to get tired. I had never realized how much strength it took just to make love.

This time, we reached our climax at almost the same time, our mouths still locked together, our sounds of pleasure mingling, and even after it was over, he didn’t withdraw right away, but held me close.

“Are you wicked enough to be a proper goblin, I wonder?” he asked me.

“How wicked to I have to be? It isn’t true that goblins steal babies, is it?”

“Oh, it’s true.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, we have been known to steal an unwanted babe here and there. Humans have some useful qualities. Sprinkling in a few of them keeps our bloodline strong. I’ve never done it, though. I have been known to steal a pig for the feast of the harvest moon. But, only from men who deserve it.”

“How do you know the babes are unwanted and the men deserve it?”

“Observation.”

“I might be willing to help you steal a pig someday,” I said. “Only if you swear to me that the farmer is rich enough to manage without it. Even if he’s a nasty sort of man, he might have children who could go hungry.”

“No, I’m not sure you are wicked enough yet.”

“Maybe I’ll have to tame your wickedness instead.”

He kissed my forehead, his golden eyes growing shadowed, and now I knew he was thinking of the unknown but loyal goblin he had lost.

“Will you come outside with me tonight?” he asked. “To light a fire and honor the dead?”

“Of course! You know I’ve been wanting to spend the nights with you.”

“It will be no easy task to restrain myself, but for the sake of a funeral…I don’t want to be alone. That is, I won’t be alone,” he added, gesturing to indicate all the inanimate objects that would probably follow us. “But I’d like another voice.”

“I want to be there,” I said. “I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” he said. “The witch is a formidable foe.”

Hand in hand, we walked through the halls of the caverns and out to the moonlit fields and hills. The moon was a half circle in the sky tonight, still quite bright in the cloudless black sea of stars. He left behind all the lanterns and candles, so it was just the two of us and the silvery light shining down. His subjects followed us out, all except the few larger pieces like the clock. There was something faintly comical about seeing dishes, brushes, and fireplace tools moving through the grass, but as soon as I considered that they were actually people it wasn’t funny at all.

The whole night was, indeed, tinged with a sense of tragedy, the king and all his subjects reduced to a farce by the curse. I still wondered what he had done to deserve it. Tricked a girl and broken her heart? I knew he wouldn’t be able to answer questions about it, but…I thought he had probably made a mistake more so than an unforgivable act. The fair folk didn’t care much for goblins, in any case, so if he had tried to seduce a water faery’s daughter, her vengeance might have been tenfold what was deserved.

He stopped at the site of a fire pit. The charred remains of past fires marked a large circle. Benches circled the pit, but the grass was quite overgrown, up to my knees and almost hiding the benches, and I started stomping down an area around the fire while he gathered brush and twigs, then crossed a few logs like a tent above the kindling.

“We used to have sheep and goats to keep the grass cut, but they’ve mostly gotten lost or stolen by now,” he said. “My castle defenses aren’t what they used to be. Well, here we are.” He flicked his hands at the fire a few times, murmuring a spell. The kindling caught fire, the flames quickly spreading, lending warmth to the night.

I moved to Nyar’s side, and he put an arm around me. I looked up at the stars. “Looks like my bedroom ceiling.”

“The stars in your bedroom will move, just like the sky does,” he said. “We are nocturnal creatures, so stars are important to us. We use them for navigation, for inspiration, for fortunes…”

“Can you tell me my fortune?”

“I don’t dare.”

We stood there together a moment, his arm around me and my arm around him, watching the fire grow more steady as the first blaze of the kindling seeped into the larger logs, providing low, long-burning flames.

“How do you honor your dead?” I asked.

“Without a body…without my people’s voices…the options become a bit more limited. But we could have a song, although I’m not the best singer in the kingdom.”

“No one’s here to judge you.”

“I hope not.” He raised an eyebrow at me before clearing his throat.

His ragged voice may not have been pretty, but it had a pleasant character all the same, as he sang of the goblin’s body nourishing the land while its soul sailed upon the stars. When he came to the chorus a second time, I sang with him, although I faltered on a few words I had not quite caught the first time.

His hand slipped to clutch mine.

“So strange,” he said, “not to know.”

Something about the size of an animal rustled in the grass, coming our way. To my surprise, it was the lute, followed closely by the pipes, a small drum, and a flute. The instruments began to play of their own accord, rendering the mourning song in a beautiful way. We didn’t try to sing with them this time, but simply let them play, as the goblins gathered closer.

Then they began to play a merrier tune, and Nyar bowed to me, holding out his palm. “I do believe they’d like us to dance.”

“Then, we must oblige them.” I carefully fit my hand to his in a dancing position, avoiding his claws, and he pulled me close. He was already hungry for me again, but I knew this was not the time for that yet. This was a moment to savor the deeper connection that was developing between us. He spun me around, my bare feet twirling in the dewy grass, the firelight casting a glow on our skin.

I didn’t know goblin dances and he didn’t know human ones, but I followed his lead easily. Our bodies understood each other so well. The ghostly instruments kept playing, reels and jigs and frolics, some of them meant for crowds and not for two lonely people, but we did our best with them all the same.

I didn’t know when I had ever had such fun in my life. A cruel voice kept whispering in my mind, This might end! I would quickly tamp it down, trying not to let any tears spring to my eyes and disturb the happiness of this perfect night.

“My beautiful Sabela,” he said, holding me against him. “That is—my clever Sabela.”

“I suppose you’re allowed to call me beautiful in such a moment,” I said.

“I wonder if I will stop aching for you even after the curse is lifted.”

“I hope not. Well, maybe not four times a day, but at least once. Or twice. The feeling has been mutual quite a lot of the time.”

“Why did you come here?” he asked. “For coins, yes, but it was more than that, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve always been curious about you.” I twisted a corner of my apron. “I don’t know why. Even though the other townspeople think you just a lascivious goblin, deep down I knew the real story would be more complicated than that. And…I wanted to know what it was. Besides that, I saw a picture of you in a book, a fair likeness, I might add, and…who knows, maybe I just knew I was meant to come to you. I never cared about the coins.”

“There is one thing I believe I can tell you,” he said. “There is nothing you can do right now to solve the final test. You can’t search for it. It will come to you, with time. So, there is nothing for us to do now but wait for it, and in the meantime, you might as well spend your time with me…if you are willing. I will have to claim you more often. It’s easier to restrain myself when I’m not near you.”

“I told you from the start, you can take me as many times as you like.”

“That is the bargain,” he admitted.

“I don’t think I’ll mind. I want you, Nyar…”

“I have accepted that this might be all we have, but—”

“Don’t say that. I forbid you to talk that way.” I was excited that I no longer had to search the castle in confusion, but so frightened I would fail. The test of the rose was so innocent. The flowers called to me, and I had picked it without thinking. But later, it was the man in the coffin who called to me, and I had resisted him. I wondered if this meant there was something else I must resist. What could it be? When the time came, I would have to know it.

“We have a few more nights,” he said. “I promise I won’t speak of the curse any more. We’ll just make the most of them.”

He kissed me again, his claws raking gently down my back. He could have hurt me, but he didn’t and I knew he never would.

But when he took me, there on one of the benches, he was as rough as he’d ever been, ravenous with waiting. I didn’t want to admit it, but in some ways I would miss his curse if it was broken. Oh, I knew it would certainly get tiresome eventually, but in this moment, I was deeply aroused by the idea that he was forced to fuck me, that he could not deny himself and I could not have denied him if I tried. Surely I was wicked enough to be a goblin for that alone, because I certainly was too wicked to be a human anymore.

His subjects started to shuffle back to the caverns, some of them not quickly enough, I thought.

“We are not leaving anything to the imagination if I was to be your bride someday,” I said.

“Goblins and the fair folk have different views of these things,” he said. “In some kingdoms the marriage of a king and his queen must be consummated in view of the court. We will not be doing that, at least.”

“We’ve already done it!”

He chuckled.

Chapter Eight

Sabela was destined to be my bride. I was beginning to believe it might truly be so.

The final nights spent with her were moments I would treasure forever.

In the past, there had been women who came to my door and passed the test of the rose. Others had followed Sabela’s path and plucked the rose, thus setting the clock ticking, but they didn’t cross the river. That is to say, Sabela was not the first to make it this far.

But she was the first one that I was so comfortable around.

“What do you do with your idle hours?” I asked her.

“My favorite thing is to read,” she said.

“Do you read aloud?”

“Oh, yes, I love to read aloud. But usually no one likes to listen.”

“I would enjoy it,” I said. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard another voice for any length of time.”

“Of course!” She took my hand, almost tugging me toward the library, clearly excited. I loved seeing how eager she was. It made me want to give her something to be eager about every day, forever.

“What would you like me to read?” she asked, skimming the shelves with her fingers and eyes at once. She gravitated toward the novels. They would make for better reading aloud. The only trouble was my accursed body. The sight of her darting from shelf to shelf, her slim hands, the nape of her neck bared by her short hair…I was already getting hard again.

She glanced at my face and then at my trousers. “I’ll bet you have a hard time concentrating,” she said.

“You’re probably right about that.”

“What if we get in bed, and I read you something naughty, and when it gets to be too much, you can do what you have to do. But—“ She held up a hand. “You have to wait as long as you can stand it. At least I’ll know we aren’t wasting a perfectly good story on you right now.”

I snorted, but inside I realized she was very understanding, like no other girl I had ever met. She grasped like no other woman had that the curse forced me into thinking of nothing but sex, and so she indulged me as if this was simply the way it was and would always be, without shaming me. Rather than resisting the curse, she flowed with it. She let everything simply be about sex, and in the process, it became easier and easier to open up to her, and let it be more.

We talked, we joked, we shared stories of our lives. We had feasts that were almost as magnificent as the old days, albeit on a smaller scale, because even my kitchen staff seemed encouraged by our affection for each other. She sat on my lap and let me feed berries into her willing little mouth.

I could fuck her every hour and she was always willing. If she wasn’t quite ready for me, I would stroke and lick her until she was, which never took long. With every other woman, I had held back, barely sating the curse. This was the first time I had known satisfaction in ten years.

I’m sure the witch who cursed me assumed that no true connection could ever be made between two hearts and minds when such desire was in the way, but I could imagine still loving Sabela when we were old and wizened. The concern and compassionate she showed to me and my people, her inquisitiveness and good humor, would suit her well to me until the day we died, I was sure.

But she still had one more test to pass, and that was the one where every other girl had failed, even the ones who managed the first two. I was forbidden from warning her. As the petals on her rose began to wither and fall, my dread increased.

Soon, I would sleep without knowing whether she would be the one to wake me.

Chapter Nine

The rose was dying. Nyar said that there was nothing I could do but wait. We had spent one week together, one perfect week.

I stayed up nights now, with Nyar, but he had to sleep as soon as the sun rose. I stayed up a little longer.

Before I went to sleep, I looked at the rose. It was so much worse than the last time I had checked it!  Half its petals had fallen and the remaining ones were turning brown, and I knew in that moment that we wouldn’t have another night.

I was glad he slept. I cried and cried until tears stung my eyes. The goblins hovered a distance away, clearly concerned.

I wiped my face with the hem of my dress. “I hope I haven’t made a complete fool out of myself just now,” I told them. “I don’t know if goblin maidens sob like that. But I’m just…scared.”

The butter dish hopped over to me, and gave it a little pat. (It was hard to know how to interact with inanimate objects in such a way, especially when I imagined some of them might turn into fierce goblin warriors when the curse was lifted.)

More of the goblins clustered around me, and I suppose they didn’t know how to comfort me either.

Then, the grandfather clock chimed, and I knew I had to sleep.

I thought I would toss and turn with worry, but in fact, I fell asleep quickly, only to slip into a very vivid dream.

THE BEAUTIFUL YOUNG faery maiden had just come of age, but her strict mother still refused  to let her leave the safety of their hamlet in Pony’s Brook. Never was the girl allowed to have any fun.

Keely had always been an obedient daughter, but she was beginning to find obedience unbearable, especially at the festival of Beltane. On this night, the humans would leave offerings out for the fair folk. The young faeries would travel from holding to holding across the countryside, in merry bands, taking the offerings, and if they were insufficient, they played tricks. Nothing too harmful, as no one wanted wars to erupt between clans, but little things. Stealing a chicken or a tool from the farm shed, pissing in the well bucket, burning a wall with a brand that meant “fools!” or “stingy!”

Faery clans often met for these occasions, even mingling with the goblins and elves. And when they came back from their pranking, they would enjoy bonfires, feasting, and dancing, until the sun rose over the hills.

It sounded like such fun, such a good opportunity to flirt with young men without being watched and lectured every moment. Other girls were allowed. The rules were lax on that night—unless you had Keely’s mother.

That night, as soon as her mother fell asleep, Keely snuck out to hurry toward the revels.  She met with a large band of faeries just as they were making off with a basket of cakes, and they welcomed her into their fold.

All through the night, Keely had her eye on one young man in particular. She had never seen him before, so he must be from a far flung clan. His clothes were plain, but superbly fitted, and he needed no adornment in any case, for he was certainly one of the loveliest young men she had ever seen. Golden hair, blue eyes, full lips, broad shoulders… She was already dreaming of what it would be like to kiss him tonight. Her first kiss.

Her mother had told her to be careful of young men, to protect her maidenhood, but Keely was just an innocent—what did she know of the charms of young men?

He had a few friends with him, not as handsome as he was, though not bad either. She approached him with a few of her own friends, and soon he had asked her for a dance, as her friends paired off with his friends.

From the first moment, he held her like she had never been held, and gazed at her like she had never been gazed at.

“Where are you from?” he asked her.

“The south,” he said, vaguely.

“Have you come a long way?”

“Long enough.”

“Will you be staying for a time?”

“That depends…” He smiled, and she smiled back, and tried to muster every feminine charm in her arsenal, because she certainly hoped he would stay.

Her friends had moved on to other men, but Keely was losing herself.

“What is your name, sir?” A few dances in, they stopped to catch their breath, and she realized that she didn’t even know it.

“Rowan.”

A common enough name. She nodded, sipping wine, growing a bit tipsy. “Keely.”

“Where do you live, Keely?”

“On the riverbank. We’re water faeries, my mother and I.”

“That explains the blue of your eyes.”

He danced with her for most of the night, and although their conversation remained light and witty, she felt she knew him by the end. She quickly she grew comfortable with the touch of his hands, his dimpled smile, the way he arched one brow at her.

One of her friends tried to pull her away from him. “You ought to be careful of him, Keely. No one’s sure where he and his friends came from and he’s been monopolizing you all night.”

“And what if he is? Isn’t that what such a night is for? Falling in love?”

“But surely he won’t stay. You should dance with one of the young men we know well.”

Keely shook her head. “I know them too well. I have never met a man like him.”

She started to avoid her friends, because she knew they would keep an eye on her to keep her from getting in trouble with her strict mother. She pulled Rowan away, in the shadows of rocks and brush, away from the party.

She started complaining to him about all the problems of her young life, how her mother never let her have any fun, how life by the river was so boring, how she had always wondered what the southlands were like…

It seemed likely that he hadn’t listened to a word she said, and it didn’t matter anyway. He brushed back a lock of her hair and kissed her.

She melted into that kiss. His hands went around her, his strong warm body like nothing she had ever felt.

“Beautiful,” he said, and no one had ever said that to her before either. She was pretty enough for a faery but hardly the most beautiful girl in the clan.

Soon, he had swept her into his arms and put her down upon the grasses. She looked at his golden face, his hair glowing with moonlight. She knew something was going to happen.

“I’m scared,” she said.

“Scared of what? Surely not of me.”

“No…I…I suppose I’m scared of what my mother will say.”

“Well, she isn’t here, is she?” He laughed. His hand stroked her bare leg, reaching beneath her skirts.

“I’m scared you’ll hurt me.”

“I’ll be very gentle with you, pretty one. Unless you’re too scared…”

“Oh, no, no…” Keely was scared, but not too scared. She wanted to know more of him.

He hitched up her skirts.

WHEN IT WAS OVER, he gave her a sachet and said, “You should brew that into a tea, otherwise you might find yourself with a babe.”

“Oh—but—where will you be? What if we wanted a babe?”

He laughed. “We certainly don’t.”

“You aren’t going back to the southlands, are you? After this?”

“It’s Beltane night,” he said. “This is not the night you find the man you’ll marry. It’s the night you enjoy yourself.”

“But—I love you!”

He kneaded the bridge of his nose. “You certainly don’t, be sure of that.” Then he crouched on one knee before her, took her hand, and said, “It was a wonderful night. I’d do it again. But I’m young and so are you. And I don’t think you really want to be my bride.”

“I—I do…I…”

He patted her head but then left in rather a hurry, and at this point Keely started to sob in earnest. One of her friends found her and started scolding her. “There you are! We were all looking for you! You didn’t do anything with that strange man, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Keely said, realizing now that she had been stupid. She had to pull herself together.

She went home, where her mother was waiting, already looking skeptical.

Keely’s mother was no ordinary woman. She was the most powerful water witch for a hundred miles in any direction, and Keely was her only child. Her only disappointment with her beautiful daughter was that she was so gullible, so eager to be liked…and no great talent with magic, either.

Well, in fact, there were quite a few reasons to be disappointed in Keely. But her mother still loved her as fiercely as any mother ever loved a daughter…or at least, she loved the idea of what Keely might be molded into, if she would only behave herself.

“I hope it went all right,” she said.

“It did…”

“You look very pale.” Her mother sniffed. “I smell something.”

Keely was horrified. Could her mother smell what she had done?

But no, it was the herbs her mother smelled. She used them for spells at times, herself. She reached in Keely’s pocket and took out the satchet. “What’s this?”

Keely tried to make up excuses, but her mother found out the truth in no time, and she flew into a rage. She made the brook that flowed just outside their door churn and roll, and then she grabbed her cloak and shoved open the door.

“Where are you going?” Keely cried.

“To find him!”

The water witch was very good at tracking people, for men never got very far in those parts without crossing a stream, and nothing gossiped like water, if you knew how to speak its language. She borrowed the swiftest horse in the village and rode until she found him.

But the water witch did not see the beautiful, golden fairy her daughter had slept with. She saw an ugly goblin with horns and fangs, riding along and laughing with his companions as if nothing had ever happened.

“You!” she cried. “You defiled my Keely!”

He turned. “Defiled? She very much enjoyed it.”

“A goblin? She enjoyed a goblin?”

“Well, I didn’t quite look like this at the time…” He snapped his fingers and produced a glamour, and now she saw what had turned Keely’s head. “But it was never my intention to hurt the girl. She was hungry for her first taste of it, I’d say.”

“You’re the young goblin king from the Green Caverns, aren’t you?”

“At your service, madam. We just like to have a bit of fun on Beltane.”

The water witch had never been so angry in her life. This young man had upset her precious, rather gullible daughter, and he didn’t even seem to realize it. They said the newly crowned king had been putting off taking a queen, having fun with the young women instead.

The water witch had not one shred of patience for a goblin trickster.

“You like the ladies, do you?”

“Ah, you can hardly blame him,” one of his friends said. “He’s been locked up with old tutors, teaching him swordsmanship and politics.”

“I am, after all, a goblin,” the goblin king said, unapologetically. “We’re meant to have a bit of fun.”

“I can blame him, and I shall. If you like women so much, goblin king, you will have more of them can you could ever imagine.”

The water witch began to cast a curse, a curse that went far beyond her usual skill with magic. Her rage fueled her, allowing her to tap into deep dark magic, and water swirled around her as lightning crackled, so that even the cavalier young goblin king started to back away, drawing his sword.

“I shall lock you in a prison of your lust!” she screamed. “Your subjects will tend to your every need but they will never speak to you or even offer you the warmth of their gaze! Meanwhile, you must make it known that you will rut with any girl who comes to your door and give her a gold coin for every night—as long as she is a human girl!” For the witch knew that no one found goblins uglier than humans, and she didn’t care much for humans herself. She didn’t want any other faery girls to suffer, that was certain. “You will be consumed with your desire every waking hour, and the only girl who can set you free is a girl who loves your true heart more than beauty or money—if you have a true heart, you dirty goblin.”

The goblin king spurred on his horse, trying to outrun her, but the curse had already taken hold. As soon as he reached his home, he found that all of his subjects had turned into objects, and a sensation of desperate desire was already sweeping over him, a desire which he was unable to ease, but he could not go past the gates of his holdings. All he could do was send messenger birds to the nearest cities, laying out the terms that the witch had set for him, pleading for any woman who could ease the ache in his loins.

But the witch had also underestimated how much the curse would take out of her. It was not enough to cast the curse, she had to go to the goblin king’s cavern and see how he suffered. She dove into the river and let her body transform into water, flowing to the Green Caverns. She was so focused on her revenge that once she got there, she realized she was trapped herself—not by a physical curse, but by fury. Because she could not let go of her anger, her anger held her in the goblin king’s river, and as the years went by, her fury increased. If ever a girl managed to break the curse, the water witch vowed to kill her.

I WOKE from my sleep in a panic.

The dream—

Who had given me such a dream?

If Nyar had meant to send it to me himself, he had not portrayed himself in the most flattering light. The young goblin king was, indeed, a trickster, to have used a glamour to fool naive young fairy maidens. I saw some of the Nyar I knew in the dream, but he had certainly grown with the years. I couldn’t imagine him acting the same way now.

If the water witch was the one to tell the story, that also seemed odd, because she was not the hero of the piece either. The vengeful witch had ruined her own life along with the man she hoped to punish.

There was one other person in the dream, and her fate was unknown, but the dream seemed like her memory, more than anyone’s. Keely?

I wondered what had happened to her, after her mother disappeared. Did she still live? She would be Nyar’s age, then, still fairly young.

This did make one thing clear—Nyar and the man in the coffin were one and the same.

I understand—I was right about the second test. If I had gone to Nyar’s beautiful form, I would have chosen his appearance over his mind and heart—and failed.

As soon as I got to my feet and looked to find my breakfast, my heart dropped to my toes. There was no breakfast, just a brown satchel—and a note.

DEAR SABELA,

YOUR ROSE HAS WILTED. You have made it this far. Please take my gold back to your family, with my well wishes.

—THE GOBLIN KING

THE BAG WAS PACKED with gold coins, and on top, buttered oatcakes tied up in a cloth. The water flask I had brought with me was here too, filled with water.

“No…no…”

‘The Goblin King’…not Nyar? What did it mean?

I didn’t pick up the money, but turned on my bare foot and ran down the hallways in my nightgown, calling Nyar’s name, calling for the goblins, but the whole castle had gone quiet. I almost sensed that they were mourning and could not bear to see me, although perhaps they were forbidden in any case. The rose was just a withered brown stem now. I was reluctant to go to the grotto, but finally it seemed my only option. The river was churning and splashing, and I could hear the water witch laughing.

You have failed, pretty human. Go home to your family!

“No!” I cried. “Why do you do this? Why are you still tormenting him this way?”

I will torment him until the day he dies. And I will be happy to send you to an early grave, if you come a bit closer…

I shied back, shaking my head, and ran back up the stairs.

Was this really it? Was it all over for me?

I returned to my room, regarding the bag of gold.

This gold would save my family’s fortunes.

Or would it? I wondered.

If my family was sensible, the gold would keep them in comfort for the rest of their lives. But they were not sensible, not content with ‘enough’. My sisters expected luxuries. They needed a regular income, not a sack of gold, which they would run through in no time.

More than that, I couldn’t bear to take Nyar’s gold. I had never come here for the gold. It was always the thought of him that lured me, and now I couldn’t imagine living any other life but at his side. I decided I would not give a single piece of Nyar’s gold to my family.

I poured out the gold, packing only the food and water in the satchel. I even left behind the coins I had earned. I didn’t want anything from him except…him. I dressed in the clothes I had brought from home. The only thing I stole from Nyar’s house was the healing stone that was shaped like his cock, because I wasn’t sure I could bear to go a night without something to remind me of the way he felt inside me. I thought he would approve of this small bit of wickedness. It seemed very goblin-like.

I laced up my boots, trying my best to shove away the heavy feeling of despair inside me. I still had one glimmer of hope.

I needed to find the water witch’s daughter.

Chapter Ten

The journey back felt much longer than the journey there. For one thing, there was no rain this time. The sun was bright and hot, and I was no longer used to it. I had been adjusting to the soft, sparkling lights of the caverns, and the consistent, cool temperature. Now I could feel heat beating on my back with every step. I had to keep my cloak on and the hood up to prevent sunburn, but it was so heavy.

Of course, worse than any weather was the feeling inside me, that I might never see Nyar again, that I had failed him and his people, and all I had to look forward to were my selfish sisters and the same old life I had known, where my ambitions and curiosity was discouraged.

I recognized landmarks along the way, the ancient stones and familiar trees, and by late afternoon I was passing through the hamlet on the way to Fairhaven. People looked at me with blatant suspicion now. They already suspected I’d been off to see the goblin king, I’m sure, but with my hair cut short, I no longer fit in with the villagers.

In Fairhaven itself, it was even worse. As I walked into town, people stared at me and whispered. I saw the brewer’s wife, a woman I had bought small beer from many a time, and she only glared at me without any greeting.

I reached my own house, and stopped outside, putting a hand to my stomach to calm the churning dread inside me. Then I opened the door.

Clara immediately hurried forward to greet me. “Sabela! It’s been a week! Does that mean you got the coins?”

“I have nothing.” I was curt.

Father and the twins entered the room now, asking the same questions.

“What do you mean, you have nothing?” Marta asked. “What about the coins? Did he trick you? You were gone an entire week, so clearly he liked what he saw!”

“You couldn’t even steal a single trinket?” Trixy asked. “You can’t possibly have felt bad about it, after what he’s done.”

“Or were you terrified of him?” Clara asked. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Finally, a bit of concern for my welfare,” I snapped.

“Of course we’re concerned for your welfare,” Clara said. “But you do look well enough, except for your hair. What will Mr. Vedast say about that?”

“Mr. Vedast?” I asked, wondering where that had come from. Mr. Vedast was another merchant in the town, better off than my father, but quite cutthroat in his business dealings.

Father looked uncomfortable. “Beauty, while you were gone, word got out about where you went. Everyone thought it was very selfless of you to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the rest of us. But Mr. Vedast so admired what you had done that he was moved to ask for your hand.”

A horrid shiver went through me. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. He came to me and—”

“I mean, I don’t believe he admires what I’ve done. That man? He’s ruthless!”

“He is tough as a merchant, but that’s why he’s the richest man in town,” Father said. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have personal convictions, qualities he admires in a bride. Clearly he isn’t moved by mere beauty, or else he would have offered his hand to you long ago. What he admires is your courage, your sacrifice. It couldn’t have worked out any better if I had planned it.”

“It just figures that sleeping with a goblin is what gets Sabela a husband,” Trixy pouted.

“I don’t want to marry Mr. Vedast,” I protested. “I…I think I could marry the goblin king. I just need to save his life. He’s not the man you think he is. He was cursed by a witch.”

“Cursed?” Clara sniffed. “Sabela, listen to what you’re saying. Cursed or not, why do you want to marry a goblin king—king of what? A hill? Rather than a prosperous merchant?”

“You belong here with us, Beauty,” Father said. “This is your home. This is the life you’ve always known.”

“Goblins are ugly,” Marta said. “Mr. Vedast is handsome enough. I can’t believe you don’t even want to marry him. I wish he would ask me. It’s not fair; Sabela gets everything.”

“Maybe we’ve thrown too much at her too quickly,” Father said. “She’s been through quite an ordeal. Why don’t you go to sleep, and things will look better in the morning. I’ll have Mr. Vedast over for dinner tomorrow so you can have a proper introduction.”

“Don’t spend the gold, Father, please. It’s to pay for the rent! I’m not going to marry Mr. Vedast. You’ll waste it.”

“Dearest, you’re tired. Try to put it out of your head.”

Put ‘it’ out of my head?

He meant Nyar.

I could never put him out of my head.

Really, I could hardly stand the sight of them, chattering about money and connections, grumbling that I had not brought the coins because they needed money for the feast they would put on to woo a man I hated.

My sisters urged me to sit down and have a little warm stew and drink, and then get some sleep.

I went to the bedroom I shared with Clara, and I felt as if I hardly recognized the place anymore. I was so homesick for my bedroom in the caverns, for my ceiling of stars. I sat down at the dressing table, regarding my face in the small mirror. I didn’t look like the same girl anymore either. My short, curling locks had a very different character from my long, heavy mane of hair. I looked just as rebellious as I felt. But even my face itself seemed older, less of an innocent girl. Did they see it? Or was it something I only felt inside?

Downstairs, I heard my sisters still murmuring about me, but a moment later, Clara came up.

“It will all be all right,” she told me. “Get dressed for bed. You look exhausted.” She plucked her own nightgown off the peg where it hung.

I didn’t want to share a bed with Clara anymore. But this was my life here.

Tomorrow, you can go to the library and look at the maps, then set off to find Keely.

I changed into my nightgown in the corner of the room, opposite from Clara, and realized she was looking at me. She glanced down when I caught her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to stare. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t harm you.”

“He didn’t, Clara. Truly. He treated me well. At first, he was a little rough. He didn’t trust me. But by the end, it was…very loving.”

She looked at me with distaste. “He didn’t trust you?”

“I tell you, Clara, he doesn’t have a choice. I expect he might have given up a long time ago, if it weren’t for his people.”

Clara sniffed. “Well, either way, you don’t belong there. I can’t believe you cut your beautiful hair.”

“It was too heavy anyway.”

With a sigh, I got into bed. She soon followed, keeping well to the edge, like she thought I was tainted now. And maybe I was. Even though I was weary to the bone from walking back, I couldn’t sleep. I missed Nyar so terribly. I would have given the world to feel his hands on me, his body against mine, to hear the purr of his voice in my ear.

If I had lost him, that meant some other woman would go to him after me. The thought pierced me like a physical pain.

I didn’t care about the women who had come before me. Remembering how coolly he had treated me at first, I knew it had been a long time since he had kissed or held anyone the way he had me. But after—

After, I couldn’t stand.

Before long, I heard Clara snoring softly. The room felt warm. I would have to spend the entire night here, without Nyar’s touch.

I didn’t dare toss and turn, and wake Clara up, but the longer I laid there in the quiet, the more my body hungered for him. I felt so empty. Moving very carefully, I dared to reach for the stone I had stolen and pushed it inside of me, but then it was almost worse. I clenched my muscles around the stone, slowly drawing sensation from the gentle friction, but I knew I would never reach the heights of my lovemaking with Nyar. I was sweating. I reached my hand down to my clit and began to stroke. My muscles clenched harder, and although I was afraid to make too much motion in the bed, I tried moving the stone up and down inside me…

Oh please…just let me have a release. It was like the curse was contagious and I’d caught it myself.

“Sabela?” Clara’s snoring stopped abruptly.

So did my hands. “Yes?”

“What are you doing over there?”

“Nothing.” My cheeks flared with heat. I don’t think I could have felt more guilty if she had caught me murdering someone.

“Are you…are you thinking about the goblin king?”

“No.”

She made a small grunt of skepticism. “I am starting to think we don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“It was your suggestion for me to go to him. You know I’ve always dreamed of a life beyond Fairhaven. What did you think would happen, Clara? If you didn’t think I’d enjoy it, then you must have expected it would be torture. Either way, you didn’t think much of me, did you?”

“I thought it would teach you a lesson.”

“Oh, it did,” I snapped. “Goodnight.”

I TACKLED the morning with renewed force of will, getting dressed and pinning my hair back into something faintly respectable, planning to head off to the library.

My foot had barely hit the bottom stair when Father said, “Sabela.”

I froze. He never called me by my name. Clara was sitting in mother’s old chair, her hands crossed on her lap, looking prim and resigned.

“I’m sorry, but you are not permitted to leave the house,” Father said. “Mr. Vedast is coming for dinner, and I’m just not sure I can trust you right now. I’m afraid the goblin king may have placed some sort of spell on you.”

“Please—I just want to get a little fresh air!” My eyes shot to Clara. I knew she had told Father at least something of her suspicions about last night. Damn me, I should have controlled myself.

“Then feel free to open a window,” Clara said. “Sabela, it’s for your own good. We don’t want you to get hurt. You have a respectable suitor now; there is no reason to keep thinking of the goblin king.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“Sabela, please. I know you’re upset, but I am your father, and I agree with your sister. You did what you needed to do with the goblin king, but you’re a human girl. You don’t want to turn off Mr. Vedast by seeming ungrateful for his proposal.”

I threw up my hands. Clearly, there was no reasoning with them. “So, you’re going to forbid me from leaving the house?”

“Yes, if we must,” Clara said. “You can help me get the house ready for the dinner. Some hard work will be good for you.”

She rose, giving me a distasteful look. “The dining room needs a good scrubbing and dusting.”

“What have you been doing while I’ve been gone?” I asked, but she brushed me off with some vague excuse.

I followed her to the water pump outside to fill buckets, but I was plotting how I could sneak away from her. She obviously knew this, because she hardly let her eyes leave me for a moment.

I tried to look like I was behaving myself. In fact, I tried to work hard because I knew this would annoy her. Clara, for all her pretensions of being the lady of the household, hated housework more than the rest of us.

“Why don’t you do the floor and I’ll dust?” she asked, airily, but I knew it was because she didn’t want to get down on her hands and knees.

“Fine with me!”

I grated soap into the bucket and dipped the rag into the water. Clara stayed within sight but well out of my way, wiping dust off of all the decorative china in the hutch. There wasn’t much of it anymore. She had spread out the few remaining pieces in a desperate attempt to make the space look filled out.

The twins were out shopping, and Father stopped in to check on us and said, “Clara, will you be all right if I go out for an hour or two?”

“I’m sure Sabela will behave herself,” Clara said, nodding at me like, You will, won’t you?

“I’ll be back.”

I wondered if I could knock my sister out with a candlestick. But I might really hurt her. Or I might not succeed, and then she would probably throw me in the cellar for the rest of the day. It wasn’t as if I had any experience knocking people out. If only I had a drug to put in her tea!

Just as I was considering my limited options, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. It made me think of the goblins. If only I had them here. I might be able to come up with a plan if the candlesticks and tea cups were on my side.

Or…perhaps one of them was here. A handkerchief crept into the room, moving almost as if its folds were legs, and climbed into my lap.

My eyes widened. It was the handkerchief that had been wrapped around my biscuits yesterday morning.

“I didn’t know you could leave the caverns,” I said, in the barest whisper.

I clutched my hands together in a silent plead, and shot a meaningful look at Clara. Can you distract her? I mostly mouthed the words.

Maybe if the handkerchief covered her face, it would startle her enough that I could run out.

The handkerchief lifted a corner like a finger, then crept over to Clara.

“So many nice things,” she was muttering to herself. “It’s a shame we had to sell so many of them already. Mr. Vedast would have been more impressed by the silver…”

“No use having the silver without servants to polish it,” I said, stretching my back, getting ready to make a move. “You wouldn’t have wanted to do it. You grumble enough about the lamps.”

“Well, we all should learn the value of a little sweat,” she said, as if I was the one who had been complaining.

She put the plate she had been dusting away, then put her hands on the doors of the hutch to close them.

Quick as a flash, the handkerchief flew up and wrapped itself around her wrist and the handle of the hutch.

“What on earth?” Clara tried to tug her hand away and the handkerchief twisted itself as tight as it could and tied into a viciously tiny, tight knot.

This was not quite what I had in mind, but—it would do.

Clara was trying to undo the knot with her free hand. “Sabela, is this some witchcraft?”

I bolted for the door.

I could hear her behind me, yanking on the door of the hutch, trying to pull free. “Sabela!”

I ran into the street, racing for the library. I was tempted to simply pick one of the roads leading north and try my luck, but I didn’t have much money, and Father could send a search party after me. I didn’t have time to get lost on the roads. Checking a map first was necessary. All I needed to know was which road ultimately led to Pony’s Brook.

I ducked down a back alley, hoping to avoid notice. I had to slow my steps before entering the library, so I didn’t look too suspicious. It was quiet inside, as usual, with the sweet smell of paper. I used to think it was enormous but Nyar’s library was the same size, and better, because it wasn’t full of men who gave me a glance like I didn’t belong there. The library was technically open to women, but men always outnumbered them. Men were more likely to be encouraged to educate themselves.

I knew the library well, so I moved straight to the books of maps and pulled out a book covering our region. It was hard to do the tedious work of looking up indexes and scouring maps when my heart was practically springing out of my chest, sure that at any moment, Clara would come bursting in to drag me home. My head kept darting toward the door, like a squirrel or a rabbit who always looks up while eating, watching for predators.

My eyes swept over the pages. There. The small creek was only about a day’s walk north of here. I had no food or money, so I wasn’t looking forward to the journey, but I’d get there if I had to beg, borrow, or steal.

The door to the library banged open and out of pure instinct I dove under a table.

It was Clara, with one of the city guards. “There she is,” she said, pointing at me.

I might have been able to elude Clara, but I wasn’t about to have all the men in the library see me dragged off by the city guard. They were already staring. I crawled out from under the table with as much dignity as I could muster, and walked up to them, surrendering myself. I met Clara’s eyes.

“Are you here to arrest me? On what charge?” I glanced at the guard, a clean-cut young man.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing.” She leaned closer to me. “Do you want to be known as a witch?”

“You know perfectly well that I’m not a witch. If I was, I would have had a much easier time getting away.”

“Come on, miss,” the guard said, urging me toward the door. “It sounds like you have a busy evening ahead.” He sounded more bemused than anything. I suppose guards dealt with more family squabbles than I expected. Fairhaven was usually a pretty peaceful place.

I was escorted home in humiliation, trying to smother my panic. Clara would never trust me again, which was just as well, because I didn’t trust her either, but I still needed to get away.

“Where is the handkerchief?” I asked her.

“The handkerchief that attacked me? I don’t know. It escaped.”

At least that was one relief. I was afraid she might have burned it or cut it to bits. I had already lost Knife.

Although no one knew what I had been doing at the library, everyone guessed I had been plotting escape. My family didn’t understand, and how could I blame them? They didn’t know the beauty of the caverns or how the pain of Nyar’s situation ripped at my heart, the magic of the moonlight or anything else I had experienced.

When Father got home, he locked me in my room and told me, his voice tinged with regret, that I had to wait there until Mr. Vedast came. “And you had better be on your best behavior when we let you out, my Beauty, please. We’re all counting on you.”

Although my bedroom was on the second floor, I still considered jumping out one of the windows. But if I broke my leg, I really wouldn’t be able to help Nyar.

As I was pacing the room, the handkerchief crawled out from under the bed. It moved nervously, reminding me of a shy animal, but I was happy beyond reason to see it. “There you are!” I whispered. “Thank you for earlier.”

It folded over in a sort of bow.

“I’m keeping you close,” I said. “Hopefully I won’t need you again. I have a plan.” I explained my plan to find Keely to the handkerchief, even though it couldn’t respond. It might like to know what it was getting into. Then I tucked the handkerchief in my apron pocket.

Before long, evening was coming on and I could hear a carriage pulling up outside and bustling downstairs, as Father and my sisters prepared for their visitor. The door opened, followed by a burst of enthusiastic welcomes.

“Let me get Sabela,” Father said. His footsteps creaked up the stairs.

When he opened the door, I was sitting on the bed, trying to look harmless enough. “Mr. Vedast is here. Hopefully you’ve had some time to calm down.”

I refused to show how nervous I was, but my clammy palms threatened to betray me. I swiped them on my apron.

Mr. Vedast was standing in the center of our parlor. He was tall and good-looking in a conventional sense, with thick brown hair and green eyes, a strong jaw, expensive clothes that fit well to his broad frame. For a merchant, I thought, he was not just a man who sat behind a desk.

He smiled when he saw me, in a confident way that suggested he didn’t expect any trouble from me at all. Taking my hand, he gave the top of it a peck and said, “Miss Sabela. You are truly as beautiful as I remember.”

The compliment had always left me cold, but especially now. With the eyes of my entire family on me, I just curtseyed in response. I could at least endure this dinner with politeness.

“But, as your father may have told you, I was particularly impressed by your bravery. For a girl of your station to venture alone to the goblin king’s lair, well, it must have taken no small measure of courage.”

Lair? I would not call it that. The word suggested more of a dirty hovel than the glittering, spacious rooms of Nyar’s caverns. I just smiled.

“Sabela has always been courageous,” Father said, before hastily changing the subject to the current market for spices and urging Mr. Vedast to sit down. Clearly, he didn’t want me to talk much.

The dinner itself wasn’t so bad, all told. The cook had prepared a magnificent spread of roasted chickens, potatoes with cream, and spring vegetables, just like the old days, and since I could tell no one really wanted me to say much, I could just focus on the food as my sisters chattered away. I think Marta really hoped he would somehow fall in love with her instead. Father seemed to genuinely enjoy discussing business with the man.

So maybe there was nothing wrong with Mr. Vedast. I was just…left cold, that was all. I had seen another world.

After dinner, we moved to the parlor for some after-dinner drinks. More of the same.

I’ve almost made it, I thought.

Mr. Vedast got to his feet. “I should probably be heading home…” He looked at me.

“It was nice to meet you,” I said dutifully.

“Beauty, perhaps you’d like to see Mr. Vedast to his carriage,” Father urged.

Was he going to try to kiss me? Ugh. I was already planning my polite rebuttal, but I followed him out. The night air was cool tonight. I shivered, unable to help it. He started to take off his jacket for me.

I held up a hand. “Please, no, no. It’s not bad. I’ll be going back in soon enough.”

“It depends. I have a few things to say to you.” I didn’t like the serious look in his eyes.

“Mr. Vedast…” I sighed. “I don’t know what my father told you, but…I don’t feel ready to get married. I really shouldn’t get married before my older sisters, in fact. I just got home from a rather intense experience—”

He took my hand. “Sabela, I hate to think that you were driven to offer yourself like that. No girl as beautiful as you should ever stoop to that. But it shows your loyalty to your family. Personally, I’ve been thinking for a while that we should take care of the goblin menace once and for all, and hearing your story, I’m resolved. I have a group of strong men ready to ride for the hills. Many have tried and failed, but perhaps the gates will open for you.”

I could only imagine the look on my face. I had to clutch the handkerchief in my pocket. “Mr. Vedast, you don’t understand. There is nothing menacing about the goblin king. He only accepts women who come willingly. And—he’s cursed to do it. Otherwise, we would never hear from him.”

“You seem quick to defend him. Don’t tell me…you liked it.” He gave me such an expression of disgust that a chill went through me. I knew he would do something terrible if I didn’t play along.

“No,” I said quickly. “No, I didn’t like it at all. I just pity him.”

“He doesn’t deserve your pity either. A curse? A curse to have all the human girls he likes? Most men pay for that. Even if the women come willingly, they are certainly desperate, as you are. We should be rid of him. It’s a scandal that we have allowed a trip to the goblin king to become acceptable behavior.”

“But then what do desperate women do?”

“They can come to me. Once I have eradicated the goblin king and taken his gold, I’ll use the money to open a charity for women in dire straits. Much better for everyone.”

“You would choose who to give the money to, then. At least women could choose for themselves whether they wanted to go to the goblin king.”

“So you approve of prostitution?”

I stammered. Maybe he had a point; it wouldn’t be a terrible thing to offer help to women in the town who were struggling. But I also didn’t believe he would really do it. I knew he was just trying to placate me.

“You must come with me. You must know something about his caverns.”

I had a terrible feeling of dread. Inside, my stomach was starting to churn. Now I wished I hadn’t enjoyed the dinner. I shouldn’t have had dessert.

Mr. Vedast admired my supposed courage, then, because it fit with his own ambitions. He wanted to kill Nyar and steal his treasures. If I ran away to speak with Keely, by the time I got back, he might have already raided Nyar’s home. Maybe the cavern would be closed to him, but it was a risk. Keely was two days away by foot. On horseback, Mr. Vedast could be at Nyar’s door within hours.

If I went with him, at least I would have the chance to warn Nyar…

Or would I merely have the misfortune of seeing him die?

I realized I would rather die at Nyar’s side than live with myself, knowing I had abandoned him and even helped lead to his death.

“You hesitate,” he said, his lip curling. “I feared as much. That goblin made you his whore.”

“No, no, I…if I go with you, and you succeed…” My voice was shaking. “I want to run the charity myself. I want to help the women who have suffered.” I thought this was the only thing I could say that he would believe.

“Of course,” he said. “In fact, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Be ready tomorrow morning.”

Chapter Eleven

In the morning, I wrote a brief letter:

DEAR KEELY,

YOU DON’T KNOW ME, but I wonder if you might have sent me a dream. My name is Sabela and I spent a week with the goblin king. I know that ten years ago, he seduced you and your mother was furious…but it seems as if she also imprisoned herself in her rage. I wonder if maybe I saw a vision of your story because you wanted to save your mother. If you are ever going to help her, this might be the time. The men of Fairhaven are leaving this morning, to kill the goblin king.

I KEPT THE NOTE VAGUE, as far as my feelings about Nyar. I didn’t know if Keely might still love him herself.

I would need Mr. Vedast to take me to a messenger post. I couldn’t trust my family, because they would certainly know I didn’t have a friend named Keely at Pony’s Brook.

“Take good care of her,” Clara told Mr. Vedast when he came that morning. I knew she was really talking about me, suspicious that I had ulterior motives for going with him.

“I certainly will.”

I was trying my best to look demure and a little ashamed, like I was wrestling with my thoughts. All I was really wrestling was fear, that I would fail Nyar and his people.

Somehow I had expected Mr. Vedast to have a carriage, because wealthy men always had carriages. But outside of our house was a dozen or so well-armed men on horseback. They wouldn’t want to be burdened with a carriage if they were riding with all speed to attack Nyar’s caverns.

I didn’t think I could get any more nervous than I already was, but I was wrong.

Mr. Vedast helped me into the saddle. He seemed very focused. One thing I would say about him, I don’t think he was moved by my beauty in the least. I think he just wanted Nyar’s riches. A man who loves money, not people, I thought. It would explain why he was so rich, and still unmarried. He probably didn’t want to take the time.

But as his hand settled at my waist, maybe I was wrong. His touch was possessive, his fingers gliding down my side to my hip.

“Mr. Vedast, I have one favor to ask before we leave the city,” I said. “I have kept a long-running correspondence with a dear friend, and when I was away with the goblin king, I didn’t write her any letters. She’s been worried sick over me. I want to reassure her that I’m all right.”

“We don’t have time to worry over the post. You can send it when you get back.”

“Oh, please!” I gave him my best beseeching eyes. “She’s already been waiting for days.”

“What is this letter? Let me see it.”

“It’s—“ Now I hesitated. I could tell by his tone that he was going to tear the letter open.

“Let me see it!” he barked.

Reluctantly, I took the letter from my pocket. The handkerchief was wrapped firmly around it, so I couldn’t take out the letter without taking out the handkerchief too. As soon as I had it out, the handkerchief tugged from my hand, tumbling on to the ground with the letter caught up inside. It started rolling away, as if caught by the wind.

I drew in a sharp breath. Would Mr. Vedast see that the handkerchief was enchanted?

The handkerchief was quickly tumbling off in the other direction, getting filthy in the street.

“My—my—handkerchief—“

Mr. Vedast seemed relieved. “It’s too filthy to bother with. You can have one of my handkerchiefs.” He thrust a clean monogrammed square into my hand. “We didn’t have time for letters anyway. Come on, men!” He pointed his gang to the street ahead, and spurred on his horse, causing a little boy to have to dash out of his way.

I cast one look back and saw the handkerchief leap onto the back of a passing carriage. No one else noticed.

I would have to trust that the goblin would find its way north, and on the other hand, it might not even matter. Keely might not be willing to help. Mr. Vedast might kill Nyar before she could get there.

I could only count on myself.

Mr. Vedast and his men conversed on the way about how they might take down the goblin king. They tried to ask questions about his caverns. I played dumb as much as I could. “He doesn’t have any servants, sir. The castle must be enchanted to stay clean by itself.” “I don’t know where he keeps his gold…truth be told, I was locked in a single bedroom the entire time I was there.”

“You are not very forthcoming.” He spoke into my ear. He was riding a little ahead of his men now, and suddenly his hand dropped between my legs.

I went rigid.

“What are you in a twist about?” he asked. “You are no virgin now. At least I’m a real man, not an ugly trickster who lives in a hole in the ground. And soon you will belong to me.”

I wanted to throw myself off the horse to get away from him. But I forced myself to remain calm. “Please, Mr. Vedast. If we are to be married, at least let me see that you will treat me like a proper bride. You know I did it to help my family. Our wedding night will be more precious for waiting.” I almost choked on the last sentence.

“We will arrange things immediately when we get back,” he said.

The journey was so much faster on horseback. The roads I had slowly trudged down in the rain and mud now flew by. We passed the sacred stones and I knew it would only be a matter of time. Would the gates of Nyar’s castle even appear?

My heart stopped when we reached the bend where I had first seen the entrance. And there it was. The open gate, guarded by gargoyles.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Mr. Vedast asked me, and I had to nod.

I cringed as the horses passed through. Their hooves sounded to me like an army. It was still daylight and Nyar would be sleeping in his coffin of glass, helpless—guarded by the river spirit, but she might be perfectly willing to let them cross and drive their swords into Nyar’s heart.

The men slowed their horses to a walk as they came upon the rose garden. It was still every bit as enchanting, and even now a part of me wanted to pick another rose. The men seemed to have no such temptations.

I had some hope that perhaps Nyar’s castle had inner defense mechanisms, that perhaps the doors would disappear and the men would have to dig their way in to find him. Unfortunately, not only were the doors visible, they were thrown wide open.

If it were me, I thought, and I came to a man’s castle to raid the place and the doors were wide open, I might be suspicious.

But the men had no qualms. They hitched their horses at a row of hitching posts I had not even noticed the first time—admittedly, they were somewhat concealed by the tall grass—and headed for the door. They all had swords at the ready and packs that I assumed were holding more weapons and supplies. Mr. Vedast took my arm. “Stay close, Sabela. I promised your family I’d take good care of you.”

I barely suppressed a scoff.

The caverns were utterly quiet. The lanterns and candles that helped light my way were not just unlit, but nowhere to be seen, although the walls still sparkled and glowed. The goblins seemed to be hiding.

The passage shuddered.

You have passed my tests, you foolish girl…you resisted the beauty of the fair man sleeping in the grotto, you resisted the bag of gold, and now you have returned.

I looked up and so did everyone else.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Vedast asked. “You resisted a bag of gold?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about. I was never offered a bag of gold!”

“You expect me to believe that? I’ve known all along, you’ve had your hands on his gold…”

The river fairy laughed.

Someone is with you? Oh, this is rich. You have passed the tests, but you brought an army with you…willingly, or unwillingly? The latter, I suspect. Before, it seemed you would do anything for the goblin king. He will not wake until you come and give him a kiss. Come and get him, if you dare.

“Do you know where he is, Sabela? Who is speaking?”

“The witch who cursed him.”

“You are the witch who cursed the goblin king?” Mr. Vedast called.

Yes, indeed. He took my daughter’s maidenhood.

“Then I assume you won’t stand in our way if we raid his gold and kill him in his sleep.”

Curiously, the river witch did seem to hesitate. Send the girl first, she said. Do not kill him in his sleep. That is too merciful a death.

Mr. Vedast looked at me like he thought this was a trick I had planned with Nyar.

“Now she’s telling the truth,” I said. “She almost killed me before, when she thought I was trying to help the goblin king.”

“Twelve against one,” one of the men said. “That shouldn’t be too hard. There’s obviously no one here. If they were here, they would have to come to town to trade for supplies. But no one’s seen a goblin in these parts since the king started demanding those girls.”

“Let’s find the gold first and get it loaded in our saddlebags,” Mr. Vedast said. “Just in case we need to make a hasty retreat. And as for you—” He took a length of rope from his pack and twisted my arms behind my back, tying my wrists securely. Then he tied my feet together so I could only hobble.

“I never trusted you,” he said. “But I don’t blame you. You’re just a susceptible young girl. When all this is said and done, I’ll still share the gold with your family. You might be useful yet. And I will still be happy to make you my bride. You won’t misbehave anymore when I’m taking such good care of you and your family, will you?”

I glared at him.

They strode forward into the main hall. Mr. Vedast put a hand on my back to make sure I moved along, and let it linger there possessively. “What a gloomy place,” one of the men said, as if he could judge fairly when the fireplace wasn’t burning.

Another one sneered at the painting of goblin maidens. “Do you suppose that’s worth anything?”

Mr. Vedast shook his head. “Probably something, but we’re not carrying that home. Find the gold first and we’ll worry about the rest later.”

They started raiding the room. Drawers were thrown open, furniture moved around in a quest for secret passages. Twelve men made more of a racket than I could have dreamed. I watched them raid the place in paralyzed horror, their dirty boots stomping on the rugs, the goblin maiden painting yanked off the wall and tossed into a corner. They dented benches, shoving them around, threw a whole shelf of baskets onto the floor.

These things felt like mine. This is my home!

But I couldn’t tell them to stop. They wouldn’t listen to a word I said at this point. In fact, I might only encourage them.

I was very worried for the goblins, though. What would happen when they got to the kitchens and pantries? I imagined all the goblin plates shattering as the men continued their careless raiding. Would it kill them? I couldn’t risk that.

I wondered if the river witch would really allow Mr. Vedast and his men to kill Nyar. She had given up her entire life to have revenge on him. It seemed to me she would want to kill him herself…

They moved on to the next few rooms with their plundering—a grand bedroom, a sitting room, a smaller reception room. They were getting less thorough and more careless by the moment.

“Nothing here!”

Then, the library. They started knocking over bookshelves. Bookshelves were a popular spot to hide secret passages, and clearly they expected to find something behind them. I felt almost faint seeing fragile old books tumbling from shelves, only to see those same shelves thrown on top of them.

“Even if I fell in love with the goblin king, don’t you think I’d take home my seven gold pieces so my family wouldn’t lose their house? But I didn’t, because I wasn’t given seven gold pieces,” I said. “You think I’m lying, but did you ever consider that maybe the witch is lying to you because she doesn’t want you to kill the goblin king?”

At the least, I had gotten their attention. They weren’t raiding the library anymore.

“Why wouldn’t she want us to kill him?”

“Because, she has devoted her life to torturing him. She is the one who makes him have sex with every girl who offers herself to him. If you kill him, she won’t have any more satisfaction in watching him suffer. She will have nothing to live for. Why would she have set all of this up if she didn’t like the game?”

Mr. Vedast turned on me. I could see that he was starting to believe me.

I continued, “It’s true. I did have some feelings for the goblin king. But I was never given any gold. She didn’t need to give me any gold because I was already planning to come back to him. I never saw a single coin. If anyone knows where it is, it’s the river witch.”

“Where is she?”

“In the grotto.”

“Give him a kiss, eh? That’ll wake him up?” Mr. Vedast took hold of my arm again. “Show us to the grotto.”

I was sick with terror, knowing this plan might kill me and Nyar. At this point, all I could think was that if I could lift the curse, Nyar’s subjects would be freed. Even if I died before they could rescue me, at least they wouldn’t be shattered into a thousand shards of china.

He led me down the stairs, my feet almost tripping on the rope he had tied me with. “I can’t move that fast,” I growled.

He ignored me entirely. We got to a convergence of paths.

“Which way, goblin whore?” One of his men prodded me with a sheathed knife.

“Down.”

As we turned the bend, I heard faint clinking in the distance, like the way a set of dishes might sound if it was trying to sneak around.

The goblins, I realized, surely heard us. They might try and save Nyar and myself, even at the cost of their own lives.

“Goblins!” I cried. “Don’t follow me! Please!”

“Goblins?” The men all looked around. “What goblins? Where?”

Mr. Vedast grabbed my arm again. “What do you know?”

“The ghosts of the goblins live in the walls,” I said. His grip dug into my flesh, hurting me. “I don’t want them to get involved…because…” I scrambled for ideas. “…they might make the entire cavern collapse if you anger them.”

“You might have mentioned that earlier. What will they do if we were to kill their king?”

“I don’t think they’ll mind if you have an honorable duel with him. After all, they’re ghosts themselves, so they probably would like him to join them. It just has to be fair.”

“Hmm. All of this is sounding pretty fishy. If I find out you’re lying, girl, I’ll poke out your eyes.”

Chapter Twelve

We descended to the grotto. The air was chillier here than I remembered. The slick rocks were even harder to traverse when my feet were bound. I couldn’t spread my weight as far as I wanted to keep my balance.

“This is it,” I said. “The river. The goblin king is…there.” I could hardly finish my sentence as I got close enough to see the coffin. The beautiful prince was gone. It was just Nyar there now. My Nyar. It was painful that I couldn’t rush to his side right this moment.

The river was calm, but bubbling at the edge.

You may safely cross, the river witch said. She sounded excited.

“Croth, Baynard, come with me. The rest of you should remain on the other side to guard the entrance and watch the river.” Mr. Vedast told the other men, and he urged me into the water. “You first.”

The banks of the river dropped off rather abruptly. Because my feet were bound, I had to actually hop in to the water. I knew the river witch could easily speed up her current, lash her waters at me, and carry me away if she wished, the way she had taken Knife. But for now, the water was warm and pleasant. I took small steps. The current dragged at my skirts, making me a little unsteady, especially when I was in up to my thighs. Mr. Vedast was behind me now. The water was frothing and foaming along the rocky banks now. The river witch expected this to have an outcome she was going to like, which did nothing to calm me.

The opposite bank had more of a gentle incline, so I was able to walk slowly out into the dry air. Now my skirts were wet and heavy. I wished I still had the goblin dress on, which wouldn’t have been so long.

I tried my best to rush to the coffin, so I could get one look at Nyar before Mr. Vedast was right behind me.

He was more perfect than I remembered. His face was peaceful, but his mouth was open just a little so I could see the edges of his fangs. His hair was in some disarray, sweeping one direction across his brow and another way behind his head. He was still wearing the clothing I had last seen him in, complete with a few buttons still undone—by my hand, I thought. He had a sword at his side now, I was glad to see, because he certainly might need it. His hands were that ghastly pale color with knobby knuckles and sharp claws.

He was a mess and I loved him.

My hands tugged at my bonds behind my back, desperate to touch him.

“Ugh. Look at him.” Mr. Vedast grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back. “Like a corpse mated with a wolf.”

“You want to mate with that?” One of the other men poked the coffin with his finger, laughing.

They were hoping to make me cry, to force me into displaying shame for what I had done, but I would never be ashamed for any of it. I held my head high, even as a slight tremble passed through my jaw.

Mr. Vedast pushed up the glass lid of the coffin. It actually seemed too light, for what it was, but I suppose it was enchanted not to be too heavy, so I could have lifted it myself. He brandished his sword at Nyar’s prone form.

“Go ahead and kiss him, then,” he told me.

God help us. Let us get out of this somehow. I prayed before I leaned forward.

My lips met Nyar’s. He was warm, his taste so familiar.

His eyes opened. Golden and heavy with sleep. Then, a blink, and they came alert. He saw Mr. Vedast almost immediately, and sat up—in fact, I could tell he would have been on his feet with his own sword drawn, had Mr. Vedast not put a hand on his chest before he could get that far. I had certainly learned that Mr. Vedast was quite keen on using his hands to restrain, shove, and grab.

Nyar, now upright within his coffin, glanced at me briefly, with hope but also a hint of caution.

I gave him a look back that I hoped would tell him everything—most of all, that I hadn’t betrayed him.

“Sabela,” he said. And I knew he understood.

The curse has been broken, the river witch said. Her voice had a funny hitch to it, like she didn’t know what to do with herself. And now the fun will begin.

Nyar’s eyes shot to Mr. Vedast.

“Goblin King,” Mr. Vedast said. “I’m here to avenge all the young women you have taken advantage of over the years. Tell me where your gold is, and I will spare your life.”

Nyar raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He glanced around the room. At the frothing river. At me. And the twelve men with their swords drawn.

“It’s right here,” he said. “Underneath the coffin.”

Mr. Vedast’s eyes were darting around. In fact, he reminded me of when I was in the library trying to look at the maps. He expected a trick. “Get up,” he said.

Nyar climbed out of the coffin in one nimble motion, standing beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. Underneath where he had been laying, there was an obvious wooden panel that Mr. Vedast lifted up, and just as promised, there were sacks of gold coins.

“Take them,” Nyar said. He took a step back.

“Put your sword down,” Mr. Vedast said. “Three against one.”

Nyar lifted his hands in a gesture of peace, and then took off his sword belt. Is this a good idea? I wondered. He must know what he was doing.

Mr. Vedast motioned for his two men to reach for the gold first. They took a heavy sack in each hand.

“Get them across,” Mr. Vedast said.

They carried the sacks across the river, as the waters remained calm.

As soon as Mr. Vedast saw it was safe, he grabbed two more, and the he tried to manage two in one hand so he could take a third. While Mr. Vedast was distracted with the gold, Nyar’s claws tore the strands of the rope that bound my hands. I rubbed my chafed wrists, but kept my hands tucked behind me so Mr. Vedast wouldn’t notice.

I wondered why Nyar was letting him get away with all this. Mr. Vedast was obviously getting more arrogant, caught up in his impatience, and I was sure it was a trick and that any moment Nyar was going to attack him while his hands were full.

But maybe he didn’t care about the gold.

I had just had this thought when I heard a commotion outside the door. The men who were guarding it took a step back. “Goblins!” they cried. “Real goblins—not ghosts.”

“Was this your plan all along?” I whispered to Nyar.

“I wouldn’t call it a plan, so much as…a circumstance. I knew they would return to their true forms as soon as you kissed me. But I don’t want them hurt. Halt!” He shouted. “Be cautious, my people!” He looked at Mr. Vedast. “They won’t hurt you if you won’t hurt them.”

Mr. Vedast dropped the sacks and drew his sword again. “I know what you’re planning. You think I’ll cross the river, and as soon as I cross, your men will kill us. But I’m staying right here. If your goblins dare to hurt my men—“ He pointed his sword at Nyar’s heart. “I will run you through.”

“The thing of it is,” Nyar said, “I’m going to die one way or another. The river witch has become so obsessed with her curse that I’m not sure she even knows how to take on a human form anymore. She is waiting to drown me as soon as I cross. So if you kill me, it won’t make much of a difference. You will have to cross the river sooner or later. My people, on the other hand, deserve the gold. If you would be kind enough to leave it on the opposite bank for them, I’ll tell them to leave you alone.”

“I came for gold,” Mr. Vedast hissed. “How many goblins could there be?”

“Well, sir—quite a lot, I think,” one of the other men said. “Maybe a hundred?”

“A hundred?”

“I can hear them out there having a discussion. I think we’re outnumbered. You’d better just give it up.”

“Fine,” Mr. Vedast spat. Now he pointed his sword at me. “I hope you enjoy drowning with your goblin.”

“I will,” I said, although…well, I’d rather not.

Mr. Lock put one foot in the water and immediately it sprayed a forceful plume of water at him. The waters began to churn.

Greedy man, the river witch said. I don’t like you either. I think I’d like to see you fight the Goblin King. Who will win? I don’t care. I will enjoy the show.

Mr. Vedast went pale, but only for a moment. He realized that Nyar’s sword was still on the ground, while he was holding his own, and moved to strike.

Nyar dodged the first strike, but it carried him even farther from his own sword. Mr. Vedast seemed to have angled him that way on purpose. Nyar hit the side of the coffin, and darted around it, using it as a shield. Mr. Vedast chased him around the coffin, slashing perilously close. He was a good fighter. Nyar was agile, managing to evade but not to get into a position where he might use his claws.

I hobbled toward the sword, still pretending my hands were tied.

Nyar knew what I was up to. He managed to lead Mr. Vedast back around, closer to me, and I quickly picked up the sword by the blade so I could get the hilt of it right into his hand.

I was so urgent, and the blade was so sharp, that I slashed my palm. It stung like anything, blood leaking from the gash immediately, but I wrapped my apron around the wound. “Don’t worry about me!” I cried, when Nyar looked at me with concern.

He barely ducked from Mr. Vedast’s latest attack. One of the tips of his horns was slashed off and rolled into the river.

But now Nyar had his own sword, and he could give as good as he got. I knew just how strong he was, and I knew he still practiced, so I expected him to be good with a sword, and he was.

Their blades clashed, ringing in my ears, neither seeming to have the upper hand at first—but Nyar was on the defensive. By choice, I hoped. Mr. Vedast seemed ready to burn his energy. Every muscle in my body tensed, watching how close that fierce blade came to the man I loved. In one horrible moment, it could all be over, and it was all so fast.

Nyar blocked one of Mr. Vedast’s more vigorous assaults. Their blades were crossed, arms straining, Mr. Vedast trying to knock Nyar down while he dug in his heels.

With a grunt, Nyar shoved Mr. Vedast back again, and they were back where they started, striking at each other. I could see Mr. Vedast had lost the vigor of his initial assault, but he was not an opponent to underestimate. As he tired, perhaps he was also considering his strategy better. He still had Nyar on the defense.

But Nyar looked relaxed, nimble on his feet, his golden eyes slightly narrowed.

Mr. Vedant rushed at Nyar, and to me it looked like he might strike his side. I gasped, unable to do anything but watch.

Nyar blocked in the nick of time, and grabbed Mr. Vedant’s sword by the hilt before he could recover from the force of his blow. He twisted the sword out of his hand, and now Nyar had both swords.

I clutched my hands with sudden joy and admiration of his skill, before I remembered we were all trapped here, on the opposite bank of the river. It didn’t really matter who won. The river witch would have the last word.

A moment later, the doors burst open. Mr. Vedast’s men didn’t even try to hold back the wave of goblins who rushed in, armed with swords and knives and other various weapons. The ones in front had shields, forming a wall of metal. A hundred seemed a fair assessment. My heart thrilled at the sight. Finally, I could see the faces of my friends. Mostly men in this front wave, but a few scrappy-looking women with surprisingly strong arm muscles were in the gang. I assumed that only the fighting goblins had come through the doors.

“My king!” A few of them rushed to the shore.

“Garor? So you are alive. Who was the knife, then?”

Garor, one of the burliest of the goblins, with a scar on his face, looked pained. “It was my lady Selnay, my lord. I was the butter dish.”

“The butter dish?” I asked, flashing back to when I had patted the butter dish while wondering if it was a goblin warrior in real life. I had been right on the mark.

“Selnay?” Nyar cursed. “Don’t cross the river. She’ll kill you.” He looked at Mr. Vedast. Both of them had paused their fighting when the goblins surged in. “You can surely see that your men are outnumbered and out armed. Let my people have their gold. My sins were never theirs to begin with.”

“And what about me?” Mr. Vedast shot a furious glance at the rest of his gang.

“I’m sorry, Vedast, I didn’t sign up to fight an army of goblins. I thought we were going to plunder an abandoned cave.” One of the men held up his arms. “Have your gold. Just let me get out of here.”

Mr. Vedast’s other men quickly followed suit, putting away their weapons and spreading their hands.

A younger goblin poked one of them with a clawed finger and jeered, “Yeah, get out of here!” before getting cuffed by one of the more seasoned soldiers.

“I’m going to die with you? Like hell!” Mr. Vedant flung himself across the river. He managed to get his arms on the opposite bank, and started clawing himself up.

The river roiled, splashing his face. The river witch cackled.

“Help me, damnit!” Mr. Vedant yelled at his men. One of them approached, holding out a hand, and was immediately met with another wave. He, at least, seemed braced for it.

“Hurry!” he shouted. “Get my hand!”

But the water was surging where it entered the grotto, and a current rushed at Mr. Vedant, while an undertow seemed to pull him beneath the water. He thrashed, his friend still making a valiant attempt to reach for him.

“Stop!” I cried. I didn’t want to see Mr. Vedant drown, even if he had tried to kill Nyar. I didn’t want to see anyone drown. Especially when we might be next.

Nyar put an arm around me.

It was too late for Mr. Vedant. His body was sucked under and dragged across the rocks. I had to bury my face in Nyar’s chest. The river witch was enjoying herself, laughing as she carried him off the same way Knife had gone. You’re better off without him anyway, wouldn’t you say?

“Even a criminal deserves a trial,” I said. But it was obviously too late for that.

Mr. Vedant’s friend hastily backed away from the river. Friend? Maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘friend’. No one seemed all that upset by his death. He was not well liked in the town, that was for sure.

“We’d better just go,” the man said.

“I’d say so,” Garor said, picking up one of the bags of gold almost like he was going to slug one of the humans in the head with it.

The human men retreated hastily now, and the goblins cleared out of the way to let them pass.

Then they approached us, gathering on the opposite side of the bank. Nyar and I stood alone, in a small, dark, cavernous space, with nothing but the glass coffin. Obviously, the river witch had allowed Nyar to cross the river every morning to sleep, but now her waters danced menacingly.

“We could get a rope,” Garor said.

“Garor—my friends—all of you. Please, listen to me. Are the rest of you out in the hall? I hope they can hear me,” Nyar said. There was not much room left in the grotto to fit more people, but I assumed there must be other goblins who had not joined the fight. “I might not make it out of this. Before anything else, I just want to…see your faces. And offer you my sincerest apology. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t thought it was a good idea to put on a glamour and run around with faery maidens. I was young and stupid, and not a wise ruler.”

“But you were a fun ruler!” one of the female fighters said.

“We are goblins, my lord. Don’t hold yourself to the standard of some stuck-up faery witch,” Garor said.

Nyar half-smiled. “Well, I should’ve kept my fun more honest, let’s say that much. I’m sorry I was not able to give you a son.”

“It’s not too late!” one of the men shouted out. “Get busy with Sabela and give her a babe. If worse comes to worse, toss her to us, we’ll keep her safe.” There was a chorus of agreement that sounded quite serious.

“Oh my goodness,” I said.

Nyar took my hand. “You’re a goblin now,” he said. “You’ll get used to our deeply practical views. They’re not wrong, are they? I don’t think I can get out of this. The water fairy will surely destroy any ropes of bridges we might try to build. But if I threw you across—“

“That is the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard,” I said. “If someone could tie a rope to one of the stalactites…”

The water faery started laughing again. You are funny with your plans, little one, but I can make water leak from the ceilings. I can freeze you to death. I could drown all of you right now if I liked, and I suppose the time has come…

Water started pouring in to the grotto. The water faery was mustering all of the water, drawing it in from where the river flowed. It was an impressive sight, the way it barreled in, almost taking form. The waters were rising quickly.

Nyar picked me up.

“No!” I wrapped my arms around my neck. “I won’t leave you.” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Keely! What about your daughter Keely?”

My daughter…what do you know of her? Who told you her name?

“I had a dream! I saw Nyar seducing her, and I saw you cursing him. But what happened to her? You left her alone!”

I had to…she was never going to be a water witch, the silly creature. All I could do was punish the man who ruined her.

Suddenly, from the other side of the grotto, where the water usually flowed out, the current slammed in instead. Waters rushed in and up, forming into the shape of a girl. She was riding on the rising waters like a buoy, her feet still rather liquid.

“Never?” she asked.

Chapter Thirteen

Keely? The waters immediately receded somewhat.

“Mother.”

Nyar set me down.

“Did you get my letter?” I asked, with renewed hope—but also some hesitation.

“Yes,” Keely said. “I was able to get in, thanks to the handkerchief. When my mother first disappeared, I tried to come for her then, to beg her to come home—but the doors to this place were locked tight. I tried to speak to the water, but I didn’t have much skill then—or maybe she just didn’t want to listen. I went home to a lonely house. I didn’t even drink Nyar’s tea—I thought I would like the company of a child—but I wasn’t pregnant. Which was certainly for the better, in hindsight.

“I didn’t understand how my mother could be so upset as to abandon me. I blamed myself, at first. I thought I needed to learn magic to impress her. So all this time, I have been studying. I did all the things she told me, the lessons I used to ignore. In the process, as I grew stronger, I realized that it hadn’t been my fault. I have grown confident in my own merits. Mother, I started to understand you better—at least, as I had known you. You were strict—too strict, I think—but you wanted what was best for me. Now, I don’t know what you’ve become.”

“Did you send me the dream?” I asked.

“Yes,” Keely said. “I’ve never been able to get inside the caverns, but as my own magic has grown, I’ve been able to speak to the waters. My mother can’t control every drop. I knew that you had come to the grotto and resisted the lure of the goblin king’s faery form— I heard that a goblin had been swept down the river in an attempt to save you. I had hope that you might be the one. I searched the shore and found your friend the knife.”

“Selnay still lives?” Garor asked.

“Yes.” Keely smiled. “Selnay and Huldie—your handkerchief—are making their way here now. They’re a bit behind because they couldn’t ride the rivers as I did, but of course I did not dare waste any time. I knew you must be so close to breaking the curse. I sent you that dream in the hopes that you would understand what you needed to do. It was the only way to get close to you.”

Keely… The river’s voice, for the first time, seemed uncertain.

“Mother, please—return to your true form. Come home with me.”

I’m not sure I know how.

“I don’t believe it. You’re more powerful than I’ll ever be. If I can change forms, you certainly can.”

They will not forgive me.

“I would be willing forgive you,” Nyar said. “We live in the moment more than the past. All of my people are alive and well, as it turns out. It’s easy enough to forget ten years of misery when I’ve had a week of happiness and the prospect of more. I’m ready to be a thoughtful ruler now. Certainly I have no taste for killing you, and I’m not sure you ever really had a taste for killing me. You could have done that a long time ago. Let’s forget this nonsense and go home to our families.”

The river drew back even more, until it was running so slow that it could barely have supported a leaf race. Keely no longer rode the waves, but let her feet fully form and drift to the bottom. Her dress seemed like it was stitched from water, flowing and blue. She was still quite beautiful, with white-blonde hair, skin like a blushing rose, and delicate features. I tried not to be jealous. Nyar didn’t seem to be scrutinizing her half as much as I was.

“Please, Mother,” Keely said. “I have kept up our little house. It’s still waiting for you to come home.”

I’m not sure I know how to be a person anymore.

“I’ll help you,” Keely said. “I just want you to come back. I have magic to learn from you. I’ve gotten as far as I can on my own.”

The river slowly bubbled up, forming a swirl, almost like a cyclone, that rose up as tall as a woman, and then it formed into the water witch. She looked a little older than she had in the vision, more fragile, her face lined and drawn.

Keely rushed to her side and caught her hands. “Mother! Mother—“

“I’m so sorry, my daughter. I meant to defend your honor, but…I was really judging you unfairly. I was angry because you disappointed me, but now I’m the one who should beg you for forgiveness.”

“It’s all right,” Keely said. “Let’s just get you home.” She helped her mother to the bank. “And we’re going to walk,” she added. “It’ll do you good to get your legs back.”

She turned to Nyar. “I wish you a happy marriage and a prosperous kingdom,” she said. She gave me an impish look, briefly, and added, “But you really are ugly.”

I was glad to hear it. I didn’t need any faery maidens sniffing around.

He smirked. “And I know better than to ever deal with faeries.”

The goblins watched them go. I’m not sure they were as forgiving as Nyar, but they held their tongues. As soon as they had left the grotto, Nyar swept me into his arms again, and the goblins cheered my name as he carried me across the river. We were both soaked almost to our waists now. One of the goblins was already holding a pair of shears and cut the ropes around my feet.

“Your future queen!” Nyar declared. “At least—“ He looked at me for my reaction. “I assume.”

I laughed. “You did do that backwards, didn’t you? But yes. Of course.”

I put my arms around him for the most glorious kiss. The room broke into even more raucous cheering. I wasn’t used to so much attention but I couldn’t stop beaming. The goblins cleared the way for us to exit the room.

“We must have a feast,” Nyar said. “But let’s keep it simple. Get the fires burning and we’ll roast potatoes and—“

“We have enough cured hams to feed everyone, sir,” said a tall, skinny young goblin woman with her hair tied back with a white kerchief. “But we must go to the market immediately. We haven’t been keeping stores to feed the whole castle.”

“Don’t worry about it too much today, Prim.”

The hallways were so crowded now that we were getting jammed in the corridors. The goblins were practically falling over themselves to get the candles lit, fix the damage Mr. Vedant had done, and get the feast under way. It was wonderful to see the caverns coming to life.

“Selnay and Huldie are here!” someone shouted ahead.

“Let them through!” Nyar said.

Two young women were nudged to the forefront.

“Selnay!” Garor threw his arms around one of them.

Selnay was dressed in rather boyish garb, a plain tunic that fell mid-thigh and cut off trousers with leather boots. She looked as goblin-y as a goblin maiden could be, with a few twigs in her messy hair, and a vicious smile very much like Nyar’s. But she was beaming ear to ear, and threw her arms around me like we knew each other well.

“You!” she cried. “Thank the gods you didn’t cross that river.”

“You saved my life!” I said in breathless response. “I’m so glad I get to thank you for it properly.”

Huldie was a little rounded looking for a goblin, and clearly more shy. She wore a blue wool dress and an apron, and curtseyed to me.

Selnay elbowed her. “Don’t be bashful. I never thought this one could be so brave.”

“It was easier to be brave when I was a handkerchief and I didn’t have to talk,” Huldie said.

I gave her a hug. “We would have drowned if you hadn’t managed to get to Keely,” I said.

“You will both be rewarded, once we’ve sorted everything out,” Nyar said, giving them both a graceful bow—or as graceful as one could be, in the crowded room.

As everyone was bustling around, Nyar pulled me into my bedroom—or was it our bedroom now?—and shut the door behind us.

The moment the latch clicked, he kissed me again. His teeth grazed my lips. His tongue thrust into my mouth and I eagerly met it. His hands moved to my shoulders, thumbs hooking under the edge of my bodice, and he shoved it off me, baring my breasts. He took one last long deep taste of my mouth before he dropped to kiss and then suck at my nipples.

I groaned as I felt a gush of wetness between my legs.

“Are you still cursed?” I gasped.

“It is hard to tell the difference, where you’re concerned.” He pushed me against the door and looked down at me, his eyes glittering. My breasts were still bare, wet from his mouth, hard and sharp as the tips of arrows. His erection dug into my stomach.

“Now,” he said, “I can finally savor you slowly. So very, very slowly.”

“Not too slowly…”

“Oh, my dearest girl, I will make you weep with wanting.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Sorry to trouble you, my king, but we don’t have a single potato. We only have yams and turnips and carrots. And parsnips. But they don’t look very good. So I might advise the yams, mainly, and then perhaps—”

“Yams are fine,” Nyar called.

“I know you asked me to keep it simple, but I do think, along with the yams and the hams—oh dear, that rhymes—we might have a vegetable stew.”

“Fine.”

“And what about dessert? What do you think of rhubarb?”

“Prim, you do whatever you think is best. You don’t have to ask me.”

“All right.” She added, “You told me to keep it simple so I didn’t want to make it complicated without asking you first.”

“If you truly want to make it complicated, then go right ahead.”

She finally moved away, and I laughed.

“Maybe there was something to be said for the days when they couldn’t talk,” he growled.

His hand dropped to my breast again. He tugged on my nipples and I groaned once more, the sound barely audible over the hustle and bustle on the other side of the door. Then he rolled my nipples between his fingers. My head slumped against the door, and I leaned into his touch, thrusting my breasts forward. The sensation was shooting straight down between my legs. My clit throbbed.

Someone else pounded on the door, vibrating through my skull. “Sir? Could I get you down in wine cellar for a moment? Get your opinions? Should we open the vintage cabernet or save that for the wedding?”

Nyar stood up straight with his brows drawn into quite a glower. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Resigned, I hoisted my bodice back up. “It looks like you might be weeping with wanting yourself.”

“Hmph.”

Chapter Fourteen

Before long, we were all gathering out under the stars. The numbers of goblins seemed to have multiplied. The goblins who had joined us in the grotto were mostly the palace guards and warriors, but there was of course, a large palace staff, scholars, smiths, carpenters, and every other sort of worker a town would have. I leaned that many of the workers and the farmers normally lived in smaller caves posted outside the goblin king’s holdings. Most of them had all ventured to the palace when the curse occurred, so they could stick together and protect each other, but Nyar assured me that the palace would not always be so crowded.

There was much to repair, lost animals to replace, gardens to plant. Everyone was overjoyed to be alive and whole, but it was not without sorrow. None of the goblins had aged except Nyar, but they said they had been able to speak to each other—just not to Nyar or any living people. Babies and small children had grown up in their strange forms, had learned to speak and work in the palace. Now they were thrust back into their old bodies, leading to the very disturbing sight of infants who could speak and knew how to make a pastry but weren’t sure how to walk on two legs.

“We will have to venture to the most powerful wizards in the land and try to find help for them, to age them as they should be,” Nyar said. “And now we have a lost generation. But it will certainly keep us busy.”

“Goblins really are very forgiving, for all your bad reputation,” I told him.

“We do live in the moment more than humans,” he said. “That’s probably why we have a bad reputation. We aren’t as likely to consider the ramifications of our actions. Although I think I’ve changed…”

“Living in the moment…considering consequences…it’s probably best to have a little of both.”

While the hams roasted on spits, the yams nestled in the ashes slowly roasting, and Prim commandeered children to stir the soup, the musicians played songs. The goblins danced and sang, bare feet in the grass, and I was happy to join them, clapping my hands, the air cool on my flushed face as the fires danced and sparked. Even Nyar had shed his boots and rolled up his sleeves.

Selnay grabbed my hand to dance at one point. “My lady,” she said. “I wonder if you’d let me protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“The queen will need a bodyguard or two. My father is Nyar’s bodyguard already. I’m good with weapons and you’ll want a few female guards who can sleep in your room with you if you ever have reason to be afraid. And Huldie, well, she’d rather I ask because she’s always shy with new people, but she would like to apply to be one of your ladies in waiting.”

“Goodness, I wasn’t even thinking about choosing staff,” I said. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous before I’ve even gotten married. But—I would love that.”

“I’ll teach you how to be a right good goblin maiden.” Selnay hopped from foot to foot.

“I have no doubt.”

“You could still call me Knife, if you want. I’ve never been much of a Selnay.”

“I will call you anything you like.” I suppressed a smile.

Just as I was getting too exhausted to dance one more step, the food was ready, and we feasted like barbarians, plates on our laps as we sat on benches, juices dripping. The goblins hadn’t tasted food in ten years and they cleaned out every pot and ate every tiny scrap of meat off the ham shanks before sucking out the marrow.

The wine, too, was enjoyed in large quantities. I drank more than usual and before long was warm and sleepy on Nyar’s lap. The goblins sat around the dying embers, telling stories of their glory days. I wasn’t sure I’d remember them, but I was also sure I’d hear them again.

Before I knew it, I must have fallen asleep, and Nyar was carrying me to bed. I curled up against his chest, pressing my ear against him to hear his heartbeat.

He kicked open the door. “Can’t expect a man to learn how to wait forever, in just one day, can you?” he said.

“No,” I said. “I suppose that was pretty cruel. But I’m very tired.”

“It’s the wine. But you’re going to wake right up.”

He tossed me on the bed, and I bounced, then fell back and stretched out my arms and legs, content as a kitten. Home at last.

He climbed into bed with me, prowling toward me. His clothes were already inviting me to take them off. As he had gotten warmer dancing himself, he had shed his jacket, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, and cuffed the legs of his pants to keep them from getting grass-stained, although that plan had certainly failed.

“My future queen,” he said. “Where was I?”

He tore my bodice away from my breasts again, and cupped them with his hands, then ran his tongue up my neck to my ear. His fangs nibbled lightly on my earlobe, and his warm hands rubbed my breasts, pushing them up, relishing their fullness. I pushed my pelvis toward him, wanting to feel how hard he was, wanting him inside me already. But I knew he was going to torture me for a while first.

“Nyar…” My voice came out whispery. But he was right. Already, I wasn’t feeling nearly as tired.

His fingertips returned to my nipples, pinching and stirring all my sensations before his claws began to lightly trace the tight ripples in my flesh there. His claws seemed so sharp at a distance, or when they moved quickly. But they felt more blunt now, when he was being so slow and careful.

I pulled off his shirt. “I want to see you,” I said.

“You’re the only human girl who ever says things like that to me.”

“I’m also the only human girl who ever broke your curse. How is that for a coincidence?” I helped him get his shirt off. “Besides, I don’t know what they’re missing.”

Perhaps beauty was in the eye of the beholder where his face was concerned. But I didn’t think his body would give anyone reason to complain. He was magnificent. His skin had a grayish pallor under the glaring sunlight, but in the moonlight he was luminous and perfect, like a statue, sculpted into lean muscle.

And his cock— When he unbuttoned his trousers, I had to run my hand over it. It was hard not to believe that men weren’t made out of iron, feeling the unyielding hardness of it just beneath the soft skin.

He leaned in closer to me, his arms wrapping around me. My bare breasts met his skin. I licked his neck the way he’d licked mine; I couldn’t help it, I wanted to taste him everywhere.

His hand stroked my cheek and then we were kissing again, a wild and passionate tangle of tongues. I reached down to clutch his buttocks, trying to urge him to rub his erection against me, but he resisted me. His fangs grazed my lip and I tasted blood but felt no pain.

He licked the blood from my lower lip. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I think just maybe you did.”

He gave me a knowing look before dropping more kisses on my cheek. His hand reached down. “Hold still,” he said, because my hips kept twitching eagerly. His clawed finger carefully parted my fragile lower lips, tracing my slickness. “Very very still…”

Where his claws had once touched me, safe behind the leather gloves, now he stroked his claws up and down, around all of my delicate folds. I was frozen now, forcing myself not to move, but it grew more and more difficult with each swipe of his dangerous fingers. I felt the edges of him, different angles of his claws—the gently curved underside almost tugging on my clit before the blunter top of the claw stroked the other way.

It was astonishing how tender his touch could feel on the edge of danger. When we were together like this, I felt like he was the whole world, and I was his whole world.

“Too much…” I was shivering with the pleasure, the torture of not being able to move.

It seemed as if he teased me forever that way, the world slowly tilting before my eyes as I sank into the feeling of it.

When he finally stopped, I was sweating. “Please,” I begged him, without being quite sure of what I wanted. Did I want him to keep drawing it out forever or would I rather just be fucked?

He took a deep breath.

Chapter Fifteen

Nyar

I COULD HARDLY BEAR how beautiful she was, how the sound of her pleading cut to my heart. I wasn’t used to waiting. I wanted to take her right now and fuck her until she couldn’t get out of bed tomorrow—theoretically. In truth, I knew that was hardly possible. Gods, I’d already tried.

But I had promised myself I would tease her tonight, give her a five course meal of pleasure before shattering her.

My cock felt like it might just climax all on its own. This was another sensation I wasn’t used to. Under the curse, I could only find release inside a woman. Pre cum beaded from the tip, and Sabela was looking at it with that expression in her eyes I loved so much—playful and intrigued.

She bent forward, licking the tip clean with a flick of her small tongue. Then she smiled at me. I made a low, sound of frustration. I wanted to grab her hair and fuck her mouth.

Instead, I adjusted position, sitting up more so she could easily reach my cock. She crawled toward me, on her stomach now, so I could see her gorgeous ass. Her feet waved in the air a moment before she cupped her mouth around my erection. She sucked the head, her hands stroking my thighs. Her lips and tongue were tight and wet around my hard shaft and I feared I might climax right then and there. With every movement she went a little deeper, but she was also careful, letting her mouth and throat relax to take the full length of me. I was breathing fast, trying to hold back, so she could take her time.

My body felt new to me. Sex was entirely different without the curse. I had control again, I could hold back if I must. It certainly broadened ones options. When I was cursed, it was almost unbearable to let a woman’s mouth pleasure me. I didn’t have time for that; I had to fuck her.

“It’s been so long…” I tangled my fingers in the dark, soft curls of her hair.

Soon she was taking the whole length of me, and just I was starting to tip toward a release, she stopped. She looked at me and said, “You will never have anyone but me, ever again.”

Oh, yes. I liked that very much. She was going to make an excellent queen.

“No,” I said. “Never. I like you staking your claims, my dearest. It never hurts to say things aloud.”

She opened her mouth and ran her tongue across her teeth. Her eyes said, I’m ready for you, for all of you.

I slid my cock back inside that waiting mouth and started taking more control, thrusting into her, forcing her mouth open wider. At first she used her tongue but after a moment she just surrendered to me, letting me do with her what I wished. I felt as if every drop of blood in my body was rushing to get inside of her mouth. I was about to lose it.

“Sabela…Sabela…” I murmured her name as I exploded into her. My cum dripped off her full lips. She waited for me to draw myself back, before swallowing my essence.

“I don’t know if that was entirely fair,” she said.

“Oh, I’ll make it up to you. Get on your back.”

She rolled over and adjusted position. Even with her legs closed, I could see her swollen inner folds poking wetly out of her lips. I parted her thighs. Her sex was swollen and dripping.

She writhed, yearning to be touched. “Please,” she said again. “Touch me, Nyar, I beg you.” The sound of her pleading voice cut right to my heart.

“You dangerous girl,” I said. “You’re going to get whatever you want from me for the rest of our lives, aren’t you?”

Chapter Sixteen

Nyar’s tongue was a little rough, not as rough as a cat, but perhaps a little rougher than a human. Although my experience of human tongues in my most sensitive places was, admittedly, nonexistent. I felt every tiny tastebud rubbing against me. I could feel my body pulsing beneath him.

Then, his fangs began to nibble at me gently. Their sharp edges gently bit my inner lips in between sliding motions of his tongue. Then he gently clamped his fangs around my clit itself. The barest tug on the tender nub was agonizing, producing a scorching desire. It was a repeat of his claws, only worse, because his mouth was even better. His breath, his warmth—pain and pleasure mingling in the core of my being.

And his hands were free to trace along my thighs, my stomach. He came close to my breasts but did not quite touch them before his hands slid down my belly again. Oh, how I tried to be patient, but my moans were becoming more primal. My body slowly pumped beneath his touch. I had no control of myself anymore. I felt like an instrument, being played to produce sounds and vibrations. Did a violin have any say in what was done to it? No, and neither did I.

My breath came faster and faster. His tongue swirled around me, tracing circles and loops, drinking in the wetness that was pouring out of me now. I was almost sobbing, “Please, please…Nyar…”

He sucked on my clit and it all happened very fast. I couldn’t hold back. My climax was like an explosion inside me. It was like being broken apart and put back together in the space of seconds.

And I already knew what was coming, knew I would hardly have a chance to recover from the pulsations before he filled me with his cock.

My legs spread, ready for him, even as I was cringing at the thought of his rigidity slamming against my soft, tender body.

He grabbed my hips and the entire length of him took me in one thrust. I screamed with pleasure, my pussy clenching against him. His claws pricked my flesh. I felt raw and helpless and yet I was still trying to draw him deeper inside me, as if there was any need at all for more of him.

“Sabela, I feel like I’m fucking a wood stove. You’re burning up.”

“I am. I’m so spent…” This was more exhausting than the nights when he took me on the hour, because then it had been over so fast.

“Come for me one more time. Then you can go to sleep.”

His command worked on me like magic. I climaxed right then and there, my body throbbing wildly around him, and as soon as that began, he was sharing it with me. We clutched each other, and then, we laid like that for several minutes in silence.

“I will love you like the bonfires, burning flames and dying embers. And then, like the stars, eternal,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Thank you for saving my people.”

“I understand where I was always meant to be,” I said. “I love you, Nyar.”

We fell asleep, so heavily, that in the morning we were in the same position.

Chapter Seventeen

The goblins went straight to work, preparing for a wedding. Some of them went to trade and shop in the nearest towns while others scoured the goblin king’s land for some of the missing livestock. The children gathered wildflowers along the hills and meadows, so we would have flowers everywhere.

No time was wasted. Our wedding was held at the end of the week, in the evening, which was considered the morning by the largely nocturnal goblins. Huldie helped me to get dressed in one of the finer gowns in the wardrobe. It was long and regal, the color of fresh cream, with a gold necklace and girdle. I was not a goblin, so I couldn’t wear the little horn ornaments that a goblin queen might wear, but the goldsmith refashioned them, attaching them to a circlet, so now they almost looked like little horns growing from my own head.

I had a cape of forest green, edged with red ribbons made out of an unusual type of lace that was a specialty of goblin maidens; it reminded me of vines. My feet were left bare.

Huldie explained, “The woman’s feet must touch the earth. It helps you to bear strong children. Anyway, you’ll see, it’s a trick to get any of us to wear shoes in the spring and summer.”

The ceremony was fairly simple. I walked through arches of flowers. The air smelled sweet no matter where one turned. Nyar waited for me, and he was also dressed more finely than I had ever seen him. His long coat was forest green to match my cloak, and he wore a belt of gold with his sword, tight britches and boots.

Our vows were briefly interrupted by a goat wandering into the area and letting out a loud series of utterances, until someone hauled it off. It made us all laugh.

I trembled when he slid a ring on my finger. I was, by this time, almost too happy for words. I could feel how all the goblins took happiness in our happiness.

Once again, we danced the night away, and one by one, I was getting to know my new ‘subjects’, although I could hardly think of them that way. The very idea of me, being a queen, even to a goblin clan.

But when I said this to Nyar, he said I shouldn’t be afraid to be a queen to them. “My father ruled the people with a firm but very just hand, putting the clan ahead of himself, and never playing favorites. That’s the kind of leader I aspire to be from now on, but I know you will help keep me in line, if need be. You are every bit the queen, as much as I am the king. And you have their respect.”

“You’ve never talked to me about your father before.”

“We’ll have a lot of stories to tell, and plenty of time to tell them.”

I only felt a pang of sadness when I thought of my family. I didn’t miss them, really. I felt guilty. Was I supposed to send them money? Some would say you should always put blood first, but I wondered if the person who said that, ever had their blood attempt to sell them to the goblins one day and a greedy merchant the next.

I didn’t want to give them any of Nyar’s money. His people needed it. Their fields were overgrown, their horses lost, their stores depleted, all thanks to the curse.

But Nyar had forgiven the witch. Did that mean I had to forgive Clara?

I talked to him about it, and he said, “That is a different situation. The witch will never bother me again. Of course I can forgive her. Your family is another matter.”

“So that’s how you decide whether or not to forgive someone? Whether they’ll bother you again?”

“I’d say so.” He didn’t seem to think this was strange.

A week passed by before Garor came to our room in the morning (which was really late afternoon) and said, “A human is here to see you, my lady. I believe she is your sister.”

I dressed quickly, not taking much care with my appearance. I knew it would probably be horrifying to Clara to see the disheveled state of a goblin queen. But I did put on my golden horn crown. Nyar followed behind me. I think he was interested to see the showdown.

She was standing in the main hall with her arms crossed, looking at the goblins surrounding her like she didn’t want them to touch her. But she forced a smile when she saw me. Or was that smile for the gold on my head? It didn’t match her face.

“There you are, sister,” she said, offering a small curtsey. “I see it must be true. Congratulations on your marriage. I’m sorry we exchanged those harsh words before.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I hope you will forgive me. Or Father, at least. I mean…it’s all been such a shock to him. But family is family.”

“Mm. I suppose you would think so now. Rumors of the goblin gold are exaggerated, you know. A lot of it’s been spent buying supplies.”

“You think I’m here for gold?”

“Sister dear, how stupid do you think I am? What were you willing to have me do for the sake of gold? Well, I know you would never go that far, but I suppose this act is the equivalent of you dusting while I scrub the floors on my hands and knees.” I finally returned her smile. Suddenly, I knew what to do with her.

“You would have us lose everything?” Clara asked.

“Oh, Clara. Whatever happens, you are certainly still my sister.”

“Then, you’ll help us?”

I could tell this was killing her, simpering to me. The twins probably didn’t care as much; they wanted to get married. Clara was here because she couldn’t bear losing the life she had planned for herself.

“I don’t have gold to give you,” I said. “But I would be happy to give you a job. Our cook, Prim, is so busy in the kitchens. She’s been saying that she needs a hand. I think you’d get along so well.” I’d already known Prim long enough to know the girl could manage anything without batting an eye.

“Work in the kitchens?” Clara huffed. “Never!”

“Well, then,” I said. “It’s unfortunate you came all this way for nothing. I can offer you a meal.”

Clara sputtered, but she knew there wasn’t much she could really say to me after she had been the one to suggest I sleep with the goblin king. Of course, she accepted the meal. Nyar and I ate with her. She wouldn’t even meet his eyes. Nyar kept asking her to pass the butter and salt and jam, or trying to offer things to her, obviously just to make her cringe whenever his claws got close to her hands.

“It’s too bad you won’t stay,” he said at one point. “There are some single goblin men around here who simply love a challenge.”

That turned her red as a beet. No, an angrier red than that, even.

She put down her napkin. ”If that is quite all, I think I had better head home now. Good day to you both.”

“Perhaps we’ll see you for yule,” I said.

We saw her to the front entrance. She walked all the way there all stiff and silent, but when I said goodbye, she turned. Her face was stricken.

She really was on the brink of losing everything.

“Clara,” I said. “If you’re willing to work, for once in your life…”

Nyar took my hand. “We pay our scullery maid very well indeed.”

“Maybe…I should take a look at the kitchen,” she said. “Just to see if it might suit me after all. As a temporary measure.”

“Of course,” I said, and the goblin guard shut the doors once more.

**

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“These Wicked Revels” Preview

“Once you gave your mask to me, you would be allowed to venture down that path. The handmaidens of the forest would prepare you for me...all control surrendered, waiting and ready for my claim. Oh, you will find it a bit dreadful, I must admit.”

Princess Evaline

I should not be so intrigued by the King of the Revels’ wicked promise. I should not wish to abandon my family and remain in this faery land of song and dance forever. But it was a temptation, when in my own homeland of Torina, my pious mother forbids me from my beloved music and dancing…much less dancing with beautiful men.

But do I love the King of the Revels enough to belong to him?

I was locked up with the princess. There was something about her delicate features, her small mouth slightly open in sleep, and her breath slowly rising and falling, that stirred a deeply protective instinct like I had never felt before.

Will

I haven’t been the same man since the King of Torina sent me to fight in his pointless, bloody war. I came home with a limp and bad memories of my friends dying in my arms, but now the king has offered Princess Evaline’s hand to anyone who can figure out why her slippers are worn out in the morning. I accepted out of revenge. But as soon as I saw her, I knew I wanted to capture her heart fair and square. First, I’ll have get past the King of the Revels…

These Wicked Revels is a standalone fairy tale retelling of the Twelve Dancing Princesses for those who like an unabashedly adorable happily ever after with a side of serious steaminess! (Even the trees are naughty in this one. You've been warned.)

Evaline

On my sister’s wedding day, my mother permitted her to wear white. Alexandra had never looked so beautiful, the snowy color like a beam of light in our midst.

My mother still wore gray, and so did I. I was fourteen years old, and it was my first year fully dressed as a grown woman. I still wasn’t used to the long skirt, the high collar, the stiff corset, the long lace shawl that covered my hair.

As a child, I only knew my own limited world. I thought every princess, in every kingdom, must wear gray dresses and shawls and pray every morning and every night. I thought every princess must be forbidden from reading novels and going to the theater and the balls. But one by one, my sisters came of age, and something happened to them.

I was the youngest of the twelve of us.

In fact, I was the half-sister of the other eleven. Their mother had died. My mother had replaced her. They didn’t care for her, but they did care for me. I was four years younger than Alexandra, and sixteen years younger than Beatrice, who was the oldest—she married when I was only three. I was their darling. Growing up, there was always someone to braid my straight black hair and explain a troublesome bit of schoolwork. Always someone to exchange a private grin with when the priest droned on, and someone to laugh with when we were supposed to be sleeping.

One by one, they went away to new kingdoms, new husbands.

When Alexandra got married, I would be alone.

I grew up in a swirl of bittersweet celebrations. I carried flowers at Beatrice’s wedding when I was little. I was in the procession for Tatiana’s. I watched my older sisters marry handsome princes, and a few ugly ones too. There were only so many princes to go around. I admired their beautiful white gowns and the piles of flowers, wishing I had such beauty in my life more often. I waved their carriages goodbye, knowing I might never see them again, as they went away, scattered to kingdoms all over the realm.

As Alexandra said her goodbyes, she leaned close to me and said, “Eva, I must tell you a secret. Some day, you will understand. Listen closely, all right?”

I nodded.

“Never give your mask away.”

I nodded like I understood. “You mean, never let my guard down?”

“Someday you will know exactly what I mean. Have a wonderful time, but don’t get too caught up in it. But this is a secret. So just remember that.”

“Does it have anything to do with your worn-out dancing shoes?”

“Shh.” She squeezed my shoulders. “You’re too young to talk about such things. Just promise me.”

“I promise,” I said solemnly, although my interest was already piqued. Masks? Was I going to find out the secret of the worn-out dancing shoes?

“My poor little dove.” Alexandra hugged me. “I’ll miss you so much.”

But she would be glad to leave.

All my sisters were.

My mother was very religious. She was from the tiny kingdom of Ondalusia, which was isolated by mountains and somewhat behind the times. The women of Ondalusia always wore a lace shawl over their head and a demure dress. They didn’t believe it was proper to wear bright colors, and in fact, to be on the safe side, maybe it was better just to give up colors altogether. It was hard to tell the royalty from the nuns, they said. When my father married her, she imposed her ways on his kingdom. Torina was also quite small, a fairly inconsequential kingdom—to my father’s chagrin—and had changed hands more than a few times. The people were adaptable to the whims of the new queen.

It was funny to think of my mother imposing anything. She was so very quiet. She always told me to be quiet too. But silence is imposing in its own way.

I think my mother was very content in her religious devotion. I admired her, in the sense that she never wavered from her personal path. She was very small and fair and delicate. My father was certainly in love with her. Everyone said she looked like a painting, casting her huge blue eyes to the ceiling when she prayed, sometimes weeping prettily. She also had a beautiful singing voice, and she used to sing me to sleep when I was a little girl.

Maybe that was where I came to my love of music. From a young age, music called to me. But it wasn’t just my ears that took delight in the church organ. The music went straight to my feet.

I dreamed of dancing, even though I knew it was an indulgent sin.

My mother didn’t go to the balls, and we were all strictly forbidden. If we dared to sneak down to the ballroom, just to catch a glimpse, she would lash us and make us pray for forgiveness. The only reason my father the king held balls, she said, was because the court—the decadent, corrupt court!—expected them, and Father had to keep them happy. She said that dances were something that the faeries had started, a long time ago, as a way to woo and ‘indoctrinate’ human girls.

But something curious happened to each of my sisters, when they reached their eighteenth birthday. Every morning, their slippers would be worn out as if they had danced the night away. Their door was locked; guards posted outside…nothing made a difference.

My mother would question them, and they denied everything. She could never find anyone who had seen them at the ball. And yet, without fail, the worn shoes kept appearing.

She started obsessing over it until my father offered rewards to any man who could figure out what happened to his daughters’ shoes. First it was a horse from the royal stables, and then it was gold and then more gold.

But no one ever figured it out.

My sisters never answered my questions, although I couldn’t help but notice that they seemed happier when their shoes were worn out. They glowed with an inner light, as if they had seen something marvelous.

Where were they going?

Sure enough, when I turned eighteen, the invitation came the very next day following my birthday. I had just put my head down on the pillow when I felt something stiff inside the pillowcase.

I reached inside and found an envelope, sealed with wax that bore a picture of a harp.

It was not a small envelope either. How had I not noticed the imprint of it even before I put my head down? How had the chambermaids not noticed when they made my bed?

It was as if the envelope had appeared out of nowhere. Magic.

I carefully slid my thumb beneath the seal.

Dear Princess,

Are you content, trapped within the walls of your castle? Do you ever wonder what it might be like to dance the night away to wild song, to hear drums that pound in time with the beat of your heart, to feel a man’s warm embrace as he holds you close?

If you do not, then toss this letter in the fire.

If you do, then join us! These wicked revels are meant for girls such as you. Leave the letter under your pillow and wear your slippers when you come to bed tomorrow. The gate shall open at midnight.

—The King of the Revels

I glanced over my shoulder, masking my excitement with my most proper face. This must be it. This was my invitation and tomorrow night I would find out where my sisters had gone to wear out their shoes.

I sobered. I was the only blood daughter of my mother. She wouldn’t like this at all. In fact, it might break her heart, for me to disappoint her like this. If I was a dutiful daughter, I should give her the letter and confess.

Drums that pound in time with the beat of my heart…

Even the phrase itself was like poetry. It was what I dreamed of, to lose myself in music…

With a man’s warm embrace?

I had never considered that. My mother had kept me well away from young men, kept me innocent. I had never dared to think of an embrace. It was hard to even imagine anyone embracing me. When I was dressed in my stiff gray garments and shawl, I was not like a flesh and blood person anymore. I felt like a wooden figure.

I shivered. Who was this King of the Revels? How did he sneak this letter into my room? And how would I get to the ball? There were guards posted in the hall outside my door, and more guards outside watching the palace walls.

I dropped to my knees beside the bed, clasping my hands to pray for an answer, but instead of praying, I just held the letter. My breathing was heavy, straining against the corset that Mother insisted I wear to bed, to keep my figure. My nightgown was tight around my neck and wrists.

With one thrust of my small hand, I shoved the letter under my pillow.

I shut my eyes and bit my lip. I have done something very wrong, haven’t I?

I lifted the pillow, but the invitation had vanished. I looked everywhere, to make sure it hadn’t just fallen behind or gotten caught inside the pillowcase somehow. Once I knew it was gone, I got to my feet. My body swayed slightly, as if against my will.

It felt like surrender.

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More Romantic Fantasy from Lidiya!

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Prisoner of Silk is the first book of a Sleeping Beauty trilogy, a dark fae Sleeping Beauty retelling inspired by Marie Antoinette. This one is very steamy.

Priestess Awakened is the first book in an epic reverse harem fantasy romance series with dragon shifters, winged cats, and fated mates.

Fairy Tale Heat

Every book is standalone and can be read in any order, although some characters might pop up in later books!

Book One: Beauty and the Goblin King

Book Two: These Wicked Revels (A retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses)

Book Three: Rapunzel and the Dark Prince

Book Four: The Beggar Princess (A retelling of King Thrushbeard)

Book Five: The Goblin Cinderella

Book Six: The Mermaid Bride

Book Seven: Tasting Gretel

Book Eight: Taming Red Riding Hood

Book Nine: Captain Hook and the Mermaid

Book Ten: The Giant’s Captive

Book Eleven: Bluebeard’s Curse

Book Twelve: The Goblin’s Price

The Cursed Souls Trilogy

A romantic fantasy set in a richly developed world on the brink of war, and a living doll girl created to be a wealthy man’s concubine.

Book One: The Sorcerer’s Concubine

Book Two: The Sorcerer’s Wife

Want more? How about paranormal reverse harem set in a world of witches and warlocks and familiars who can take animal or human form, plus demons, other shifters, and fae? It all kicks off with A Witch Among Warlocks, the story of Charlotte, a gamer nerd girl who finds out her mom was a witch, her usual internet gaming partner is actually her fox-shifter familiar who lives one hill over, and she’s accidentally (or not so accidentally) been enrolled in a university for warlocks with a sexy incubus roommate…

1. A Witch Among Warlocks

Complete Series Box Set

Available in audio too!

2. Either of these can come next in the story…Fae Brides is light and funny, while the vampires have some dark, rip-your-heart-out emotions (along with some happiness too).

So You Want to Be a Fae Bride?

Box Set

The Vampire Clan’s Thrall

Box Set

3. Paranormal House Flippers

Book One: Demons in the Bedroom

Book Two: Wolves at the Door

Book Three: Phantom of the Library

4. Promised to the Demons

Book One: Sympathy for the Demons

Book Two: Bat Out of Hell

Book Three: The Devil Went Down to Florida

Side story standalones:

Brides of the Sinistral Realms

Book One: Tempted by Demons

Book Two: Captured by Dragons

An epic paranormal reverse harem where cat, wolf and bird shifters have long been hunted by humans until three queens arise to reset the balance:

Shifters Among Us

Book One: Black Queen: Stray

Book Two: Black Queen: Shadow

Book Three: Black Queen: Sovereign

Book Four: White Queen: Fiend

Book Five: White Queen: Flight

About the Author

Lidiya Foxglove has always loved a good fairy tale, whether it’s sweet or steamy, and she likes to throw in a little of both. Sometimes she thinks she ought to do something other than reading and writing, but that would require doing more laundry. So…never mind.

lidiyafoxglove@lidiyafoxglove.com

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Beauty and the Goblin King

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

“These Wicked Revels” Preview

More Romantic Fantasy from Lidiya!

About the Author