by Chloe Jacobs
He leaned a shoulder against the frame of the open doorway, looking her up and down with that intense focus she still hadn’t gotten used to. A glint of satisfaction lit his eyes, and a smile pulled at his lips as he took in the stupid dress.
“Oh, no. Don’t you get used to this,” she warned, bracing a free hand on her hip even as warmth spread through her like a rushing tide. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you better not start thinking you can tell me what to wear on a regular basis.”
He chuckled and came forward. That couldn’t be good. Teasing, charismatic Isaac was always harder to get a bead on than brooding, snarly Isaac.
He stopped a few feet in front of her. She took in the crisp white linen shirt under his richly embroidered black cloak, a drastic change from last night’s dirty traveling clothes.
His hair was slightly damp, but he still smelled of pine and wood smoke. It was the sort of thing that couldn’t be washed away. It made up who he was. It was the same scent that followed her to bed every night.
“Damn, you look good.” Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t look away. “Every inch a king.”
A goofy grin spread across his face, and her chest virtually exploded. It was like an unexpected ray of sunshine and…well…she loved that she was the one who’d just made it happen. There was no doubt that this particular boy had never lacked in confidence or arrogance, but she was the one who put the playful gleam in his eyes. She actually made him…happy.
“How much trouble have you gotten into today?” he asked with a smile.
“Don’t even.” She snorted. “I’ve been sitting around here going stir-crazy for hours while your people poked and prodded at me.”
“You need to start thinking of them as your people, too.” As a reminder of what he was planning to do at the banquet tonight, it worked.
She chewed her lip, which was starting to feel pretty ragged. Any more anxiety and she might worry it off altogether. “Are you sure this is such a good idea? Telling everyone about us, I mean? Couldn’t we just let them figure it out on their own? You know, like we were normal kids or something? I doubt that even in Mylena there any other couples who feel the need to make a proclamation of their relationship.”
He reached for her hand and tugged her forward. Her stomach fluttered, and she went with a smile. It was still hard to trust someone to get close without her sword between them for protection, but with Isaac she could do it. With him, it almost felt natural, kind of freeing. And as much as he drove her crazy a lot of the time, she couldn’t resist the chance to touch him.
“Who ever said that we were like any other couple…” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “…from any other world?”
She tilted her face up and welcomed the press of his lips. He claimed her with a deep, hard kiss that took her breath away again and again. In seconds she was lost in him. She even forgot about the stupid dress until she realized the only thing holding it on anymore was the force of their bodies pressed together.
“If you want to keep me compliant, you’ll tell me the real reason you think this banquet is necessary,” she murmured, hiking the fabric up to her shoulders when he pulled back. “Why do we have to do this now?”
He smiled and traced her collarbone, much like Wyatt had done only minutes ago. Guilt warmed her cheeks.
“This is the best way to get as many of my people together so that I can address the kingdom.” He nudged her to turn around, then began to refasten all the buttons of her dress. She started to throw a grateful smile over her shoulder, but the brush of his fingers gave her goose bumps.
Silly, it’s not like that was a hugely intimate part of her body, but this touching thing was still so new to her.
Holding her breath, she focused intently on his progress, dreading when he would reach the very last button. But he took his time, and that was almost worse, because every caress was both torture and heaven. Finally, he pushed the thick braids over each of her shoulders and leaned down to place a kiss just below the tender spot right beneath each of her earlobes.
She knew her face was red when she turned back around and presumed her whole body appeared the same, because she felt the deep flush go all the way to her toes.
She cleared her throat and tried to remember what they’d been talking about.
“You’re so certain getting everyone together in a confined space and springing the news that their king is dating a human is a good thing?” Her hands were clammy just thinking about it, and she clenched them in the folds of her skirts. At least all those pleats were good for one thing. “What if I wait on the sidelines with my sword ready? You know, just in case it all backfires?”
He shook his head. “You’d like it if the room turned bloodthirsty, wouldn’t you? At least then you would know how to deal with it.”
She groaned. Maybe he was right. Maybe she’d only imagined the tension in his shoulders whenever he returned from handling these little skirmishes across goblin lands. Maybe her uneasiness about this whole thing came from her own insecurity and doubt.
“I want you at my side.” He pulled at the tail of one of her braids. “And don’t bring your sword. Tonight I want my people to see you as you are.”
“The sword is a part of who I am, Isaac. Don’t think that just because I’ve been hanging out here for a few weeks, any of that’s changed,” she warned.
“I want them to see beyond the formidable hunter to the vulnerability I’ve witnessed.”
“Well, then, you’d be the only one.” She crossed her arms. “But it’s your party, you can die if you want to.”
He let go of her hair with one last tug. “This trust we’ve spoken of before…you do know what it means, right?”
“Okay, okay. Just tell me when to show up and I’ll be there.”
“I don’t think so. I’m not letting you out of my sight again before the banquet. You’ll accompany me downstairs now.”
She grinned. The autocratic goblin king had returned.
“Now who’s lacking the trust?”
Chapter Four
One of Isaac’s attendants, Soren, stood waiting for them at the top of the stairs when they came out of Greta’s room. His bulbous nose was usually stuck up in the air, but when he noticed her, those cavernous nostrils flared in a disdainful sneer as he contemplated ways to make her disappear. At least, she could only assume that’s what he was thinking, since he hadn’t ever condescended to actually speak to her.
Today his expression was carefully blank as he greeted Isaac with a deep bow. “Everything is in order,” he confirmed.
Isaac nodded and turned to Greta. “You are ready.” It wasn’t a question.
She didn’t object. She wouldn’t embarrass him by admitting to the fear that almost froze her feet in place.
He held out his hand. She would have preferred to walk into this thing without anyone thinking she had to lean on him for support, but that was the old Greta talking. The new Greta took his hand because they were in this together and a show of solidarity and commitment was going to be crucial to pulling it off.
Downstairs, the hallways and common areas were packed with people. Suddenly, something came sailing through the air toward her face. She caught it an inch from her nose.
Her skin sizzled. Her head throbbed. She bent over and clutched at her chest as the magick inside crawled up her throat like bile, burning and bitter. It was obvious now that the surge of power was a reflex that arose when she was threatened, or when her body thought she was being threatened—which was probably why it had reared up most often during her nightmares.
Not now. This cannot happen now.
“Greta!” Isaac’s voice was low and raspy, strained along with every muscle in his body.
She blinked. He was struggling with his demons almost as deeply as she was with hers. She heard the sharp concern in his voice and saw the claws that had automatically protruded from his fingertips at the first sign of her distress.
No, no, n
o.
She doubled her efforts to control the magick flooding her, threatening to unleash itself. She couldn’t let her weakness put Isaac in danger of going Lost.
Holding back the magick hurt, like a dagger twisting in her belly, or a deadly disease systematically destroying all her healthy organs and leaving black sludge in its wake.
She gripped Isaac’s wrist. “It didn’t touch me,” she said quickly. “I’m fine.” She swallowed hard and tried to focus on something solid. The object in her hand…which was nothing but a hunk of crusty bread.
A goblin child no taller than her ribs stood shaking like a leaf a few feet away, with Soren’s hands on both his shoulders to keep him from bolting. Just a child. Thankfully, Isaac noticed the child at about the same time, and she felt the waves of fury visibly reduce.
“Are you hurt?” He wasn’t asking about the bread.
“It’s under control.” For now. If, like she suspected, the magick responded when she felt stressed or threatened, and Isaac’s moon phase went into overdrive when he sensed it rising, the combination was a bomb whose fuse would only keep getting shorter and shorter. It wasn’t as if either of them could avoid every aggravating situation that might come along.
What she really needed was to get rid of this dark power once and for all. As soon as possible.
Isaac motioned to Soren without letting go of her. “Bring the child here,” he ordered. His voice sounded harsh over the silence that had fallen in the corridor, but within the folds of her skirt he squeezed her hand.
The boy came forward with his head drooping low enough for his chin to touch his chest. Isaac stood over him, looking huge and intimidating. He took the piece of bread from her and held it out. He waited patiently for the boy to look up at him. “It seems this slipped from your grasp. Lucky that my friend caught it for you.”
The boy looked at her and nodded with big round eyes full of fear. Her chest constricted and she smiled as brightly as she could. She would never blame a child for imitating what he’d seen the adults do—not that she was about to admit to Isaac that this wasn’t the first incident where foodstuffs had been thrown at her head.
“Why don’t you head into the hall and find something better than stale bread to eat?”
The boy’s shoulders fell, and somewhere in the gathering crowd, a woman sobbed in obvious relief.
The child took off in the opposite direction as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him.
Thankfully, Soren started to usher people into the banquet hall, and the sounds of mumbled conversation and movement started back up again as the hallway cleared.
“Stuff like this is only going to keep happening,” Greta finally whispered when they were almost alone and she could breathe again. He had to know it.
“Not after I make it clear what you mean to me,” he insisted with a determined edge to his voice. Yes. He knew.
Wyatt’s words came back to haunt her. The certainty that it had been a mistake to agree to this made her sweat. Isaac wanted to keep her safe, but if he made a decision as a man that jeopardized his position as a king, didn’t it fall to her to keep him safe?
Survival might be her specialty, but what the heck did she know about ruling the goblin kingdom? Trust. She had to trust that he knew. And so if he thought this was a good idea, then…
She looked up and smiled. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”
Pride and relief shone from his eyes as they made their way into the hall. She found herself searching the crowd for Wyatt…but he wasn’t there. And she should be glad, because he shouldn’t be there. Hopefully, he was already far away, taking those boys back home.
She pushed aside the wave of regret because there was no place for it here, now. She didn’t regret staying, only regretted that making such a choice had cost her a friend—of which she had too few to begin with.
The main hall of the goblin castle was usually divided into functional smaller chambers. There were areas where goblin children sat for lessons, others where goblins could request supplies, get food, and even spend the night if it would be too far to travel home before dark or if the weather was very bad—not an unusual occurrence. All this had been business as usual before Isaac became the big cheese, but he had continued the practice.
Tonight the dividers that usually separated the main hall had been removed, and every one of the sconces on the walls had been lit.
She saw the king’s treasurer across the room. He was a harried and overworked little guy, and they’d seen a lot of each other whenever she’d come in to claim payment on a bounty. They’d even sort of been friends. Or rather, they’d been the kind of strangers who exchanged pleasantries and the odd ribald joke. That had ended when she was outed as a human, but at least he hadn’t publicly ostracized her, and the brief nod he sent her way now gave her hope for the evening.
Isaac’s hand fell on the crook of her arm. He bent his head. “Are you ready?”
Greta had never seen so many people in one spot before and felt decidedly vulnerable. Many of the goblins, sprites, and ogres had to have come from hours away, maybe lured by the promise of the free food. After all, Mylena’s farmlands were all but barren after centuries of winter. Many of these people—Greta included—had never seen so much food in one place before, and to lay hands on even a portion of what the goblin king was giving away free tonight would have cost the average person the equivalent of a firstborn child.
There were three kingdoms of Mylena: the goblin kingdom, the gnome kingdom, and the mysterious faerie kingdom. The sprites and ogres and other unrepresented species had no choice but to seek sanctuary within one of these or take their chances in the free territories—which were even less habitable than the rest of this frozen world.
The goblin kingdom was by far the most popular for these refugees.
Nobody ever opted for the Glass Kingdom, home of the faerie race, for a whole crapload of reasons, not the least of which was because they’d closed their doors to everyone. In fact, the doors hadn’t opened even once in more years than anyone could remember. It was also said to be cursed, that every year the gates remained closed, the Glass Kingdom blended deeper into the mountains until one day nobody would ever find it again.
Isaac’s face was so close she could see the flecks of deep purple in his eyes. “You should have let me bring my sword,” she murmured, the corner of her lip turning up.
His laughter turned heads throughout the packed hall, but his gaze was locked on her to the exclusion of all else, making her blush so hard her cheeks might go up in flames.
She cleared her throat and focused on the crowd, ignoring when his laughter turned to a knowing chuckle.
Greta had never seen so many people gathered in one place and found herself getting nervous again. As she shifted to ask about the security arrangements, the doors at the end of the hall blew open, letting in a rush of cold air and whirling snow that was just as showy as the entourage that poured inside after it.
Her breath caught.
Gnomes.
Everyone said gnomes were vicious schemers and liars. They’d thrown their lot in with Agramon and tortured dozens of humans in the depths of the demon’s dungeons, so maybe that was true, but all she really knew for sure was that they were hands down the butt ugliest creatures Greta had ever come across.
The gnome king, Leander, was certainly no exception. She picked him out right away, even though she’d never seen him before this moment. He sauntered into the room like he owned it, a dozen or so of what she assumed to be his personal guard forming a scruffy-looking half circle behind him.
He was gaudy and coarse at the same time. Jewels hung from his neck and sparkled on his fingers, and he wore a deep red cloak, reminding her of a glittering Santa Claus without the fat belly or the jolly. He even had a beard, but it was gray and scraggly, separated down the middle, each end twisted into a point that touched his barrel chest. The available real estate of his bulbous nose looked as if it had explod
ed with warts, making it red and swollen looking.
As ridiculous as he appeared, she didn’t dare laugh. He wore jewels because that was the only thing of value his land produced, and no one could be faulted for succumbing to gout when ale was a cheaper way to heat the body than wood for fire, which grew slowly, if at all.
Goblin lands weren’t exactly fertile, but they had prairies, a thick wood, and minerals from the Brimstone Caves, and so had fared the never-ending winter better than most.
As the gnome king stopped in front of the high table, his dark eyes glittered with hatred for the both of them. But only weeks ago he and Isaac had been allied in their hatred of humans, so she couldn’t exactly fault him for that, either.
Greta’s job as a bounty hunter had taken her to the beautiful but deadly acid mists of Eyna’s Falls in the north. It had led her to an ancient, deserted, overgrown faerie palace crawling with creepy centipede-like things the size of ponies with pincers that could easily crush bone. She’d also hunted in the scorching heart of the Brimstone Caves, home to fire ants the size of cockroaches, huge bats that could drain the blood from a pasture full of cattle and still go back for more, and whatever else happened to wander inside and lay claim to a dark and smoky section of cavern.
And although she’d ventured as far as the southern counties of the gnome kingdom as well, she’d never gone to Rhazua, where Leander himself resided, preferring not to tempt fate in the lawless city.
The gnome king sneered at Isaac. “You put this creature here at your side? As your equal? I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing for myself, but the rumors are apparently true. The young goblin king has been bewitched.”
Not so long ago, Greta had lumped Isaac and the gnome king together as being cut from the same cloth, but now she knew better. She stiffened at the disgust and loathing in Leander’s voice, but refrained from defending herself…or Isaac. When it came to hunting, he’d always let her handle her own business without interference; she supposed she could return the favor now.