by Shona Husk
She smiled and sat. There was enough food to serve all six of his men had they been there. Roan filled his plate. Leaving leftovers would only serve as a reminder tomorrow. Silence descended on the table while they ate.
Dai poured wine. He had a sip and placed his glass down with such care Roan knew he was about to ask a question more prickly than a briar. His leg wouldn’t reach to kick his brother, and he knew Eliza wouldn’t appreciate the disruption to dinner.
“Roan mentioned you were on a break from studying law. Do you intend to continue?”
She took a drink before replying. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do after this. It’s changed my perspective.” She touched her cheek and forced her mouth into a smile, but her eyes were in disagreement. “If you’re done I’ll bring out the entrée.”
She’d gathered the plates before anyone could disagree and vanished into the kitchen.
“Leave her alone. This can’t be easy for her.” It wasn’t easy for him to sit with Eliza and have her look at him as if it didn’t matter what color his skin was. She loved his soul. When that was gone it couldn’t be brought back.
“I was making polite conversation.”
“You were digging for information. Like you always do.” He couldn’t protect Eliza, not from his brother’s curiosity, from death, from life. After tonight she was on her own, no matter how hard they rallied against the heavy hand of fate.
Dai shrugged. “Better than sitting here in silence.”
“There is nothing I can say.” Roan pulled at a dreadlock and worked the rope of hair through his fingers. Annoyance tugged at his scalp as he worked.
“Have you tried?”
“How can the curse be broken by something I can’t feel?” Roan spoke through clenched teeth. The ache in his chest around Eliza was brutal. Like someone was trying to split his ribs to inspect what lay beneath. Blood eagled, one of Rome’s favorite punishments.
“But would you mean it?” Dai waved his hand as if he was pulling the answer to their wishes out of the air. “Magic is about intent.”
Magic might be, but love wasn’t. Did Dai even understand the difference, or had he spent so long in his books he’d forgotten how being human felt?
“I won’t lie to her.” She knew he wanted to love her but couldn’t. There was no room in his metal heart for anything but unwanted gold.
“It wouldn’t be lying. It’s the thought that counts.”
“If that were true…” Roan raised his hands. They were gray, not flesh-colored. Look at them. They could barely be civil. Another day and they would be at each other’s throats over the pile of gold buried under rock.
“If what were true?” Eliza had glided barefoot back into the room. Bowls of soup balanced on a tray.
Roan wanted to stick a sword through his brother. Nowhere that would kill him, just enough for his tongue to be too busy moaning to speak. “Nothing.”
“That a wish may break the curse.” Dai grinned. What should have lit his eyes with humor turned his crooked goblin features sinister as he reveled in Roan’s discomfort.
Eliza set the bowls down. She avoided eye contact with either of the goblins. “I could ask the wish, if you don’t mind, Roan.”
“Nothing would please me more than obeying that command.” Roan placed his hand over hers.
Her face lit up with hope. “Do I just wish?”
Roan nodded even though he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d tried it before. Held a summoner on the end of his blade and made him wish. The compulsion had been there, but he’d had nowhere to send the power. He didn’t know how to break the curse. If he did then, maybe he could have used the curse’s strength against itself. Now, he didn’t have the magic to expend on saving his soul. This was a cruel jest to force him into saying words that weren’t true no matter how much he wanted them to be real.
Dai leaned forward. The candles held their breath, static flames frozen in the moment.
Eliza chewed her lip, her eyes narrowed as she thought. After a few elongated seconds she spoke. “I wish the Goblin King would break the curse that binds him.”
The pull of power was there, spiking his blood with the poison that was killing him. But this time in the mucky river at the bottom of the abyss he glimpsed the bonds of the curse, illuminated by the star. Old and frayed, the ropes barely held his soul under water. If he had magic to command, he might have been able to sever the curse and avoid drowning. His chest ached from the gold that weighed him down and prevented him from drawing in the air that would save his life.
He squeezed her hand and forced a smile. She was the answer to every question, written in a language he couldn’t read. “Not that simple.” He glared at Dai. “No more talk of curses or wishes.”
“What if I said the words wrong? Um…I command you to break the curse. I wish you were free of the curse.”
Her pleading raked the surface of his golden heart. He couldn’t bleed even though the scratches ran deep. Roan placed his hand over his chest, but the wounded metal wouldn’t heal.
“Enough. There is no hope of a deathbed pardon.”
Eliza gasped. Her eyes watered like he’d slapped her face. His words had hurt her more than the failed wishes. She’d always had hope. Hope that something they did would break the curse. One true desire they both shared. Dai melted in the shadows, wanting no part in fixing the damage his taunts had caused.
Tears flooded her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to hide them or sweep them aside.
“I just wanted—” She hiccupped and couldn’t finish.
“Shh.” Roan dropped to his knees in front of his crying queen. He cupped her face. Her tears filled his ugly twisted hands. “Don’t cry for me. I have made my peace.” His voice broke, brittle and damaged he tried to go on, tried to reassure her. “Knowing you has lightened the curse. You showed me love.”
She threw her arms around him. Her face buried against his neck. Not used to being touched as a goblin, he was paralyzed and not sure what to do. The man remembered. He wrapped his arms around her and smoothed his hands down her back while she wept for a goblin who could never love her back. Her body shook. The gouges in his heart became fissures. His heart was tearing apart over Eliza’s grief. The metal tore itself into shrapnel that cut into his flesh. He couldn’t breathe without making fresh wounds.
And Roan forgot what he was.
He kissed her cheek and when she lifted her face, he kissed her lips. She responded, her eyes closed, her fingers through his hair. He couldn’t love her, but she owned his soul and always would. It was no longer his to surrender. But Eliza owned a fragment so small; would she recognize what she held?
The metal shards broke free from his chest. He doubled over, sure the curse was taking his life for cheating it of a soul. He placed his hand over his heart like he could stop the split.
“Don’t fade. Roan, stay with me.” Her hands were on his face, over his chest. They danced like panicked birds.
The star expanded and went supernova, exploding in a destructive brilliance. The only thing destroyed was the dark abyss that had been ready to swallow him whole. The heat seared his lungs, his skin burned and peeled. The frozen muscle in his chest contracted.
His nails dug through the woolen tunic and into his skin. Then it happened again, the awful tightening that spread splinters and razors through his arteries. A heartbeat.
Roan lifted his head and drew a breath. Part of him was missing. The ice-burn of the Shadowlands, the weight in his chest. Eliza sat back on her heels, her mouth open. Was he human, or goblin? Had the curse spat him out? He lifted his other hand, too afraid to take the one off his chest in case the painful beating of his heart stopped. The hand in front of his face was flesh colored and the nails white.
She reached out to touch his hand. Her fingers traced his palm. He placed her hand over his chest so she could feel his heart beneath her hand. As the muscle became accustomed to working, the pain eased.
“What happened?
“You broke my heart, and the curse.” He couldn’t look away from the hazel-eyed woman who’d cared enough to carve out his heart. He was trapped in her eyes and never wanted to leave. Eliza was his air, his soul, his heart.
A male cry from the garden broke the spell that held them on their knees. “Le Roi est mort!”
Roan’s first human smile in the Fixed Realm in nearly two thousand years tightened his cheeks. Eliza smiled back. She leaned in and whispered, “Vive le Roi.”
He cradled her face. Their lips touched. This kiss was different. Lust boiled through his blood but it was tempered with something more powerful.
Love.
It was his love for Eliza that enabled his golden heart to break. He wasn’t fool enough to question how that was possible.
Her fingers brushed the day-old stubble as if he might vanish. “You’re human. You’re here.” Eliza’s smile faltered and her hand fell away. “You’re free.”
Roan caught her wrist and kissed her fingertips. “There is no freedom without you.”
Without Eliza, the world would be as dull and dead as the Shadowlands. Doubt clouded her eyes, tarnishing the flecks of gold.
“You have the whole word to explore.”
She was pulling away from him. His lips grew cold without her kisses. His heart wouldn’t beat if she left him alone in the Fixed Realm. His place here was with Eliza, by her side.
Roan reached into the leather pouch on his belt and pulled out the silk-wrapped object.
“There’s nothing I haven’t seen or stolen.” From the cloth slipped a silver ring. The black diamond entwined in vines glittered in the candlelight.
She drew in a breath at the sight of her ring in his palm. “You don’t need a queen.”
“No I don’t.” He was no longer a king, but without Eliza he was nothing. He held out the ring once given to her to protect and to mark. “Marry me, Eliza.”
She placed her palm over his heart. “You said once that all you could love was gold.”
The light wool tunic was an impenetrable barrier when all he wanted was to feel her touch against human flesh. “I didn’t know what it was to love a woman. You made every day I passed in the Shadowlands worthwhile. I love you, Eliza.”
He held her hand. This time he selected the ring finger on her left hand. The ring didn’t bind to her skin. She was free to remove it. To reject him.
Eliza stared at her hand. Her tremors passed into his fingers like he held a tiny bird in his palm. Would she stay or fly away?
She looked up with tears in her eyes but a smile on her lips. She threw her arms around his neck.
“Yes.”
Chapter 20
The church was silent. No music played. No ribbons or flowers decorated the aisle. No people filled the pews. The biggest church in Perth was being used for the smallest wedding. Eliza stopped in the entrance and smoothed the black wedding dress that had scandalized the bridal boutique. It didn’t matter what she wore as long as Roan was waiting for her at the altar.
Amanda and Brigit stood to one side, two men in suits on the other. Amanda fiddled with her hair and smiled at one of the men on the other side. Talking without words. He responded with a tilt of his head, his long hair hiding his face.
Where was Roan?
Brigit waved. And the other man turned.
Eliza’s breath caught, her heart stuttered, but she met his gaze. It was all she could do not to gather up her skirts and run down the aisle into his arms. Roan was almost unrecognizable. He wore the suit like it had been made for him, not bought in a rush to use the booked church. But the biggest change was the loss of the dreadlocks.
Gone.
His hair was cropped close to his scalp. Her eyes prickled. The music that had filled her nights would never play again.
She walked down the overly long aisle. Not the slow, measured pace a bride should use as if reluctant to go to her future husband. Without the demands of society expectations she did what she wanted—she walked too fast. Roan’s gaze never left her. His blue eyes burned with the fire of a desert sky at dawn. She was breathless when she reached the altar. Her blood surged, coloring her cheeks.
She was getting married.
Roan took her hands and kissed her cheek. Her toes curled in her shoes.
“You cut your hair.” She ran her fingers over the short strands, already missing the tails of hair.
“It was time.” From his pocket he pulled out a necklace made of gold and amber beads. Two strands woven together as one.
She bent her head as he fastened it around her neck. The gold he could never give her in the Shadowlands. It was beautiful, but she felt the weight of history and this was just a fraction of the beads he’d worn in his hair.
“It was a heavy burden.” She touched the necklace. Every bead was a little different, a different story told by each one. She was sure he knew which ones she now wore.
“But worth it.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. He leaned in to kiss her.
The priest coughed. “Shall we start, Mr. King?”
Roan straightened. “Yes.”
The priest gave her a look that suggested she wasn’t worthy to be standing in the house of God. What kind of woman swaps grooms at the last minute? Eliza straightened her back.
A woman who dared to dream.
The priest began to read, not the elaborate service that had been planned by Steve, but straight from the prayer book.
“If there is any reason why you may not lawfully marry, confess it now.” The priest paused for longer than necessary.
To her side Brigit scuffed her feet like she knew their secret and was struggling to keep it to herself. One day she would tell Amanda and Brigit everything. But Roan passed in modern society; he had a birth certificate and a passport. His bank, Birch Trustees, had taken care of his future. Money couldn’t buy humanity, but it could buy the documents.
Not getting the answer he wanted, the priest continued through the consent. “Roan, will you take Eliza as your wife? Will you love her, honor her, and protect her for as long as you both shall live?”
Roan held her hand. His grip was firm and cool. He glanced at her as he spoke. “I will.”
“Eliza, will you take Roan as your husband? Will you love him, honor him, and protect him for as long as you both shall live?”
A smile formed, and she almost missed her cue. “I will.”
They turned to face each other.
“Take her right hand with yours,” the priest told Roan.
Roan took both her hands. Orders still grated on his skin. The inability to carry weapons had him reaching and finding nothing. A sword lay under their pillows. How long would it take for the Shadowlands to stop haunting Roan?
“I, Roan, take you, Eliza, to be my wife. You’re the light in my dark. My hope that never died. Without you there is no life. My soul is yours. My sword is at your feet.”
Dai was still paying enough attention to the service to hand Roan the ring.
Roan slid the plain platinum band onto her finger. It sat perfectly next to the ornate, black diamond ring. “To this I pledge you my word.”
The hairs on the back of her neck pulled tight as if they were being watched by unseen eyes. For a moment the overwhelming quiet stole her voice. She took a breath before saying her vows.
“I, Eliza, take you, Roan, to be my husband.” The air in the church thickened. She had to swallow before she could go on. “You’re my wish made true. The strength that helped me fight my demons. With you I can dream. My love is yours. My heart is in your hands.”
Brigit dropped the ring and it bounced three times, ringing through the church like a solitary bell. Amanda gasped. Laughter tightened Eliza’s throat, and she glanced at Roan. He wasn’t hiding his smile. Brigit placed the ring in her hand and mouthed sorry.
Eliza placed the ring on Roan’s finger. The small, black diamond was almost lost in the wide band. “To this I
pledge you my word.”
Thunder rolled through the church. The air became metallic, sharp like a storm was about to break within the church. Roan and Dai looked up at the vaulted ceiling. For a heartbeat the church was full. Then the past let go and made room for the future. The priest muttered a prayer to God. Dai spoke in Decangli.
Roan nodded. “And so it is. The vows are accepted.”
Ice rippled down her back. They didn’t need any paperwork to be witnessed and signed when the gods had accepted their words.
The priest spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Those who God has joined let not man put asunder.” He closed the prayer book silently and stepped back with his eyes on Roan as if he were the devil incarnate. “Kiss your bride.”
And be gone was left unspoken. If the priest knew the truth, he would damn them both.
Eliza stepped toward Roan. The beads around her neck danced to their own tune. The music would never leave her. His lips brushed hers. A perfectly chaste kiss, suitable for priests and children to observe. But not what she wanted from her husband. She sighed and leaned into his arms.
They had survived the nightmare and created a dream. Her one and only wish was to live happily ever after with her king.
A wish Roan was more than happy to fulfill.
Read on for an excerpt from the next book in the Shadowlands series
Kiss of the Goblin Prince
by Shona Husk
Chapter 1
There were no decorations in the church, no family or friends filling the pews. Amanda paused and glanced at the altar where Eliza’s new mystery man waited with his brother. This was very different from the wedding that had been planned by Eliza’s ex-fiancé Steve. This one hadn’t been planned at all. Eliza and Roan were just making use of the church reservation. She took a breath and forced a smile. Eliza wanted this and even though Amanda thought Eliza was rushing to marry a man she hardly knew, she had to be happy for her. And Eliza seemed happy, happier than she’d been for years.