The Goblin King

by Shona Husk

  Alone, he stood and watched as the Summerland died, death spreading from the dead heart. Him. Everything he touched was corrupted by his dark magic. It was becoming impossible to separate himself from the Shadowlands.

  He crossed his arms, surveying his kingdom. Almost-black clouds tumbled on the horizon, a smear on the perfect monotone twilight. They shouldn’t be there. There was no weather, no night, no day in the Shadowlands. They were left over from Eliza’s dream. A dream he’d wanted to believe he had a part in, if only for a moment. Roan pressed his lips together, his body tight with unspent desire. No matter how sweet the temptation, he couldn’t exist for Eliza only in dreams.

  ***

  Sunlight slipped past the cracks in the curtains. Eliza blinked and tried to orient herself in the strange bedroom. She wasn’t with Roan. But she had been. She’d felt his hands on her back and his arms around her. It was more than just a dream. She touched her mouth. Her lips were cool from his touch. Eliza pulled the cover over her head and closed her eyes. She tried to reclaim sleep and find her dream-lover.

  “Roan, I need to see you.”

  Smothered in the dark she waited, knowing he wouldn’t appear. He’d sent her away as her dream had been leached away by the Shadowlands.

  The curtains rattled on their tracks. Eliza sat up throwing off the cover. The hotel room was awash in pale morning light. The fabric swung from the ghostly hand that had tugged them open. No shadows clung to the edges. Only her breathing disturbed the silence. Roan was already gone.

  “Damn you. Why won’t you come?” How could she live knowing that Roan was fighting for survival?

  She groaned and lay down, not willing to formally summon him as if he were her slave. She just wanted to be with him…and he kept sending her away. Did she have to agree to be his queen, to spend the rest of her life in the realm of nightmares just to spend time with him?

  A chilling thought swept over her. Maybe he was really goblin. No, she couldn’t believe that. She’d seen him as he’d been before the curse. Even back then he’d tried to do the right thing by his people. He was an honest man. And that was all she wanted.

  Her cell phone vibrated, rustling against the contents of her handbag the police had returned. The phone went to voice mail before she could retrieve it.

  Twenty-three missed calls.

  Eliza started listening to the messages. Steve reminded her about the final wedding dress fitting. Like she could forget. She’d lost three days of freedom but gained a day with Roan. Eliza chewed her lip. She’d meet him again in the Summerland. She could live through the days with Steve if she could find Roan at night.

  Eight calls in, Steve became more demanding, wanting to know where she was and why she wasn’t with him. When the police released her house, she would go back home to Steve. Until then she would do what she wanted. Eliza hung up on the message back. She didn’t have the stomach to listen to the rest of the messages. She knew how the game ended, so why bother playing?

  As she thought, she flicked the cell phone open and closed. The flick, snap marked the time. Ten o’clock. The dress fitting was in an hour. She could make it if she hurried. Her niece would be at school and her sister-in-law was scheduled to meet her at the fitting.

  Her thumb moved without thought.

  With each ring her nerve faltered. This was the equivalent of poking a beehive. She was going to get stung for this. Maybe it wasn’t worth it? If Amanda didn’t pick up in one more ring, she’d go to the dress fitting.

  “Eliza. Are you feeling better?” Amanda still sounded guilty about not visiting in the hospital.

  “Yeah, I’ve slept the worst off. Can we get coffee?” She needed to get out and tell someone what had happened. But, like before, she knew she wouldn’t tell a soul about the goblins. Couldn’t.

  “Ah, sure, before the fitting or after?”

  Eliza licked her lip, then took a breath. “Let’s skip the fitting.”

  “Skip?” Amanda asked like Eliza wanted her to jump off the Bell Tower and fly.

  “I need clothes, not a wedding dress, and all my clothes are locked in the house.” Except for the few items Steve had deemed appropriate and left for her at the hospital. “Let’s go shopping.” Shopping for clothes Steve would hate and that he’d never let her wear in public. A grin formed. She was going to live every hour that she had until she had to go back home.

  “Are you sure about this? Maybe the bump on your head was more serious than the docs thought.”

  “I’m good. Pick me up?”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  Eliza’s heart thumped a nervous rhythm. It would betray her. She nodded and spoke with more confidence than she felt. “Never been surer.”

  Two hours and several shops later Eliza had found the perfect dress for wearing in the Summerland and meeting Roan. She spun and the white sundress floated around her. The gathered peasant bodice flowed into a full skirt that skimmed her knees. For the first time she was grateful summer fashion was invading the stores in the middle of winter.

  Amanda leaned next to the changing room mirror with her sunglasses perched on the top of her head. She had the casual jeans and T-shirt look done perfectly. The streaks in her brown hair were natural from the time spent at the beach. That was where Amanda and Matt had spent all their free time, where she’d lost him and where his ashes were scattered. Amanda had been six months pregnant with Brigit.

  “Steve wouldn’t let that rag enter the house.” Amanda took a sip of soft drink.

  Eliza checked the price tag. It was an expensive rag. With the white dress, pale skin, and bleached blond hair she looked like an empty shell of a woman. The life sucked out until she was little more than a weathered bone. What had happened to the girl whose future had seemed so bright? She could have been anyone, done anything. Instead she’d buckled and become what everyone else expected.

  “Buy it. Hide it at my house and wear it when you visit.”

  “I shouldn’t have to hide it.” Eliza lifted her hair. Imagining it shorter, darker, different. Like she could be a different person by changing the way she looked.

  “Where were you, Eliza?” Amanda put her hand on Eliza’s arm. Her fingers brushed the gold bangle as if she sensed the connection. “What happened?”

  Their eyes met. How could she explain? Where did she start? Nine years ago when she’d first met Roan? Five days ago when she’d vanished?

  “Is there someone else?” Amanda gave her a look, as if she knew Eliza was keeping a secret.

  Yes. But he’s cursed and lives in the Shadowlands where he hoards gold because he’s a goblin. He’s scary at first, but once you get to know him he’s gentle and caring. We’ve kissed twice. He wants me to stay with him and be his queen.

  Eliza shook her head and her hair tumbled down her back. Anything she imagined with Roan was pure fantasy. He didn’t exist in the real world, and she couldn’t give up her life to live in the twisted world he inhabited as a queen in name only.

  “You don’t have to marry Steve.” Amanda had never liked Steve. Not because she was jealous, but because he was too uptight.

  But Steve had been there for Eliza. They had been in love, they were going to run Gunn and Coulter when the old men retired to play golf. They’d had plans. He’d helped her through her father’s death when she’d had no one to lean on—Amanda had been too fractured from Matt’s death and struggling with a two-year-old and studies. Then something had changed. Something so small she hadn’t noticed at first. By the time Eliza had realized what was happening and where their relationship was going, it was too late. She’d declined his partnership request, dumped him, and found herself blackmailed and engaged in the same breath.

  “It’s a bit late now.” It had gone on too long, her compliance adding to her assumed guilt. Without all the documents, not just the ones she’d signed, Steve held all the aces.

  Amanda shrugged. “So you’ll lose the deposit.”

  And my freedom.
<
br />   The details of her relationship with Steve she’d never shared. Telling Amanda now would place her, and Brigit, in danger. She didn’t trust Steve even when she was looking straight at him. His hands were always moving. Some things were best kept secret.

  Eliza smoothed the dress. “I’m getting it.”

  ***

  Eliza emptied the contents of the shopping bags onto the bed. With the scissors she cut the tags off the clothes. The sharp blades sung with each snip. Jeans, T-shirts, panties, bras, there was nothing exciting in the pile. But it was hers, selected by her because she liked it and not because it would make the right impression. She was tired of looking the part of expensive fiancée. She wanted to look like Eliza.

  The hair dye lay on top of an electric-blue bra. Maya gold. A warm, honey-brown according to the box. As close to her natural color as she’d been able to find. Eliza held the scissors in one hand, the dye in the other. This was more serious than buying clothes. Amanda had bet fifty dollars she wouldn’t do it. And another fifty that by the time of the wedding her hair would be blond again.

  Eliza dropped the dye on the bed. She bent over and gathered her hair into a ponytail that sat ridiculously on her forehead. Then she cut. Six inches of hair fell on the floor. One more inch than Steve ever had. She stood up and looked in the mirror. The layers fell around her cheekbones, and the ends of her hair skimmed her shoulders.

  Her stomach clenched, but a smile teased the corners of her lips. Steve was going to kill her. A giggle sneaked out. She was dead. She dropped the scissors and covered her mouth.

  Shit.

  Steve was going to lose it. After he’d planned the wedding down to the napkin rings, she’d ruined the day by chopping off her hair. He’d talk to her like she was a puppy who didn’t know better, and then suffocate her with what he called love until she stopped fighting. For a moment she didn’t care. He would’ve found something to complain about, so why not her hair?

  But the haircut looked good, and while it wasn’t her usual three-hundred-dollar cut, it was even and layered. Who needed to know she’d done it herself?

  She tossed her hair and let it flick and settle. What the new style needed was a change in color. If she was going to be shot, she might as well face the bullet. She opened the dye and covered her hair in purple paste, popped a hotel shower cap over the top, and set the alarm clock for thirty minutes.

  Eliza sat down and opened the first gossip magazine she’d read in two years. Minutes crawled past. Hollywood’s latest breakups and hookups didn’t offer enough distraction. With each passing second her mouth dried as if she’d been eating Shadowlands dust. She forced out a breath and rolled her shoulders. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be tormenting Steve. It would only come back and bite her on the ass. She tapped her foot and checked her watch. It had been working perfectly since she’d been back. But it was too late to change her mind—the dye would’ve already taken.

  Her phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen. The number was too familiar. Steve. Her skin heated as if he could see what she was doing. She knew she couldn’t continue to ignore his calls, yet it was another two heartbeats before she could pick up.

  “Hello.”

  “So, you do remember how to use a phone.”

  “It was on silent. I was sleeping.” The lie came too easily and was less troublesome than the truth.

  “You missed the dress fitting. Donna called me. She made excuses for you.”

  Of course the wedding planner had rung him. She’d wanted nothing to do with the wedding preparations. She hadn’t wanted the engagement. “I’m sorry, I was tired.”

  “Re-book. Pull yourself together, Eliza. No more stunts. One phone call and I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in orange.”

  The line went dead.

  Her hand shook. She ripped off the shower cap. A tendril of purple-goo-coated hair slapped her face. She brushed it aside, her eyes burning. Just because she was marrying Steve didn’t mean she had to obey him. She could disrupt his perfect, pretentious plans.

  She searched her contacts for WPD. Wedding Planner Donna, or as Amanda had named her Wedding Prima Donna. It was time to show some interest in her wedding.

  “Hi, Donna. Eliza Coulter.”

  “Oh, your dress fitting. I can get you back in on Friday at two. Okay?”

  She knew without checking her diary she was free, and Amanda didn’t work Fridays. Too perfect, she could almost see Steve’s hand in it. She gritted her teeth. The fitting couldn’t be avoided. WPD already thought a bride not having input was weird.

  “Thank you.” Eliza paused and softened her voice. Being brittle and tense wasn’t going to help. “I’m sorry about today. I got my days mixed up.”

  “I heard from Steven. How horrible not knowing where you were. Is there anything else?” WPD, sympathy was part of the job.

  She should’ve said no. She’d shaken the boat enough today, but her tongue had a life of its own. “Um. Yes, actually. Can I make a menu change?”

  “Sure, what would you like to change?”

  Eliza didn’t know what was on the menu. Knowing Steve it would be beef or chicken.

  “Some of my friends are vegetarian but eat seafood, so I’d like the entrées to be either vegetarian or prawns.” She was going to hell for this.

  Stunned silence followed as if she’d asked for a blood sacrifice.

  “Steven is allergic to seafood.” Donna spoke slowly as if Eliza didn’t know her own fiancé.

  “I know, but he can eat the vegetarian option.” The boat started to sink. He would never eat the vegetarian option. Steve was a real man.

  “He was very specific in his instructions, Ms. Coulter.”

  Eliza stood up. “Well I’m being specific in mine. Who do you think is paying your fee?”

  “Vegetarian and prawns. Anything else, Ms. Coulter?”

  “That’s all. Thank you, Donna.” Eliza ended the call. Adrenaline tightened her skin. She shivered. Temporary insanity. Maybe she’d banged her head harder than the doctors thought.

  The alarm went off and a rock song punched through the room. She let it play as she went into the bathroom to see the damage done by the dye.

  ***

  Steven watched the cab pull up. A woman with shoulder-length, light auburn hair got out, her arms laden with shopping bags. He clenched his teeth not wanting her to turn and prove him right. She closed the cab door and he saw her face. Eliza.

  His fingers curled. How could she do this to him? How would the wedding photos look? He’d have a brassy bawd on his arm at the biggest wedding in town.

  Steven unlocked the front door and let Eliza in. She smiled with her lips pressed tight. He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head so he caught her cheek. Anger buzzed inside him. Her defiance had gone on long enough.

  He snatched her hand, so she was forced to face him. He saw the burst of fear in her eyes, quickly blanketed in calm. Her lips moved in a silent prayer.

  “Been shopping, dear?”

  “Got some clothes for the honeymoon.” She lifted her chin daring a challenge.

  “You know you can’t shop alone.” The clothes Eliza liked lacked the styling and branding that reflected their place in society. At first he hadn’t cared, he’d thought she’d grow up and become smart and sophisticated like her mother. But that hadn’t happened.

  “I managed.”

  This new Eliza was rebelling, and he didn’t like it. Rebellion was dangerous, and he had too much riding on her compliance.

  “What happened to your hair? You look like a cheap whore.”

  A door slammed upstairs. The both glanced upwards.

  Eliza tried to pull her hand away. “What did you want, an expensive one?”

  He gripped tighter. “You can’t play me and win, Eliza.”

  “I want more than being your blow-up wife.”

  He laughed. “Is that where you went for three days? Got a lover? Found someone who says he loves
you? Says he can help you?”

  She gasped. The private detective may have found nothing, but that simple breath told him everything.

  “When I find him, I’ll make sure he won’t want anything to do with you.”

  The classical music that had filled the house fell silent. Around him the walls cracked and seemed to laugh. The noise from the neighbor’s wind chimes filtered into the house, even though all the windows were closed. The hair on his arms dug into Steven’s skin, needling his bones. He released Eliza.

  She backed away, heading for the stairs, her eyes on him. “I’m sleeping in the guest room.” She retreated upstairs with her head held high.

  Steven let her go. He knew when to choose his battles. And soon enough he would have the perfect family.

  Mozart came back on, but a brittle chill had settled over the house. Eliza was slipping through his fingers and the tighter he grasped the less he held. His threats were no longer working. He straightened his tie. The PI was going to have to dig harder. Whoever this person was, giving Eliza hope, he could be paid off. Everyone had a price.

  ***

  Eliza closed the bedroom door with a thump that rattled the windows. She turned the privacy lock and leaned against the door, waiting for Steve to follow. To argue. She held her breath as she listened. The lock could easily be opened from the other side. It offered only the illusion of security. Her pulse pounded in her ears and the burn in her lungs increased. Nothing. No footsteps followed her and the handle didn’t turn. Eliza let out the breath and glanced around the room. The shadows swelled and sighed. She wasn’t alone.

  “Roan? Are you here?” She hadn’t called him. Was he watching over her?

  His presence was the faintest brush against her skin. He was in the aching darkness she couldn’t touch.

  “Why won’t you speak to me? Why can’t I see you?” Her breathing rubbed over the silence, scratching away the surface until it was raw.

  She swallowed and sniffed. “You keep sending me away. Now you follow me. What do you want from me?”