Priestess Awakened

by Foxglove, Lidiya

  “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 ch
airs 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.

  Beauty and the Goblin King is available now!

  Fairy Tale Heat Series

  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

  About the Author

  Lidiya Foxglove spends most of her time writing, drinking hot cocoa, messing around on the internet, and drinking tea, before reading about 15 pages of any manga with lots of pretty boys in it, and then falling asleep. Sometimes she also does yoga and gardens, but not as often as she claims.

  lidiyafoxglove@lidiyafoxglove.com