Greta and the Goblin King

by Chloe Jacobs

  The portal fractured, branched apart. Wherever the children had gone—God please let it be home—she was somewhere else, and Agramon must have been sent to another place entirely.

  No. No. No. She started screaming again, pushing through the darkness back to the doorway, but couldn’t seem to get any closer to it.

  She had to get out. But, oh God, it was too late.

  The doorway was almost closed and she was going to be stuck here.

  In the dark.

  Watching through the slim slice of portal still open to Agramon’s fortress, she saw Ray being tossed by Isaac across the room like a sack of feed before he lunged forward with a roar. He reached through the rift, grasped hold of her arm.

  His eyes. She didn’t want to lose sight of those eyes. They held her for a long moment as his claws dug into the flesh of her forearm.

  His furious face was hazy, as if a thin barrier of smoke had formed between them. She whispered his name. If he didn’t let her go, would she be caught here in limbo, somewhere in the middle of the worlds, for eternity?

  With a final squeeze, he pulled and yanked her forward. She screamed as the portal tried to suck her back in, not wanting to give her up.

  “I won’t let you go.” The low rumble of sound penetrated the slight opening, through her aching chest, and took up residence in her bleeding heart. A voice she would never forget.

  The portal slammed shut.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sensations rushed to make themselves known to her all at once, but she hesitated to blink her eyes open. She could feel the warmth of the fire in the hearth, heard it crackling away. Her fingers dug deeply into the furs covering her. A bed, but whose?

  Then again, did it matter where she was, what she would see when she opened her eyes? Could she trust any of it? She didn’t know any more if she was dreaming or not. The dreams had become her whole world, her only world, and it felt like she’d been locked inside them forever.

  No, not dreams, nightmares. Filled with darkness and despair. Of moons dripping blood, glowing eyes brimming with anger and betrayal, and the pain-filled screams of children.

  Through it all, his voice called to her, reminding her of their bond, of his claim on her soul.

  She alternated between joy and terror. Anticipation and despair. He was the devil at her back. So close, always at her heels, but never catching her. No matter how often she tried, she hadn’t been able to turn, to look over her shoulder, to stop running and let him catch her.

  Until now.

  “Isaac,” she whispered.

  “He isn’t here.”

  Greta forced her eyes open and blinked at Siona. She lounged in the same chair Isaac had been sitting in the last time Greta woke up in this room.

  Sunshine filtered in through the open window above her, making her hair gleam and her pale skin look like porcelain.

  It wasn’t fair that the first thing she saw was Siona’s blinding beauty when there was no doubt Greta looked like she’d been to hell and back. In fact, based on the way she felt, she might still be in hell.

  Struggling to sit proved a waste of time, and she gave up after the shooting pain in her head forced a groan from her lips. “You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” Greta muttered. “Well, it isn’t a free show, so get off your butt and help me.”

  With an evil grin, Siona stood and finally sauntered over to the bed. She looked a little stiff and limped slightly, but that seemed to be the only remaining evidence of her own battle with Lazarus. She sat beside Greta and put an arm around her shoulders to help her sit up.

  “Where is he?” Greta asked after she’d caught her breath, wincing at the croak in her voice.

  Siona frowned. “He’s been working night and day to bring some order to the territory after the devastation Agramon’s army left behind.”

  Greta winced. That had been her fault.

  “Which is made more difficult because of his position.”

  “He’s the king. What could be hard about that?”

  “Yes, but he’s a young king who has yet to prove himself to his people. They know he didn’t want the position in the first place, and now they are suspicious of his priorities.”

  Also her fault. “He can just order them to fall in line, can’t he?” That sounded weak, even to her, and from the dry look Siona gave her, the goblin was of the same opinion. “So, then, what happens now?”

  “Yesterday he went before the council, to answer charges of public endangerment.”

  She swallowed, trying to get some moisture into her dry throat. “I don’t understand.”

  “Leander accused him of harboring a gang of humans in the goblin forest.” She winced again. Another thing that was her fault. “Of course, the gnome king also named you as their leader. If Leander makes a good enough case, who knows what—”

  Greta knew he was there before Siona had stopped speaking. She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway.

  The wave of relief might have knocked her to her knees if she’d been standing. He looked whole, healthy, and back to his non-feral self. She started to smile, but the shuttered look on his face as he looked her up and down made her lips wobble with uncertainty.

  He’d heard what they were talking about, she could see it in the tightness of his mouth. Was he angry? Worried? Should she be worried?

  Did he have regrets already, based on the trouble he was now in because of her? Should she plan to be on her feet and out of here before dark?

  Siona got up from the bed with an exasperated sigh. Propping her hands on her hips, she narrowed her gaze on them both. “Stop it.”

  Greta gasped, and Isaac lifted an imperious brow in his cousin’s direction. “Stop what?”

  “All the doubt hovering in the air between you,” she said. “It’s so palpable, I can practically see steam coming off you both. Let go of it, and see the truth.”

  The truth.

  Greta took in Isaac’s rigid pose. He remained standing stiff and tall just inside the door. He wasn’t wearing his cloak, only a white lawn shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. For the first time, there was a bit of scruff shadowing his jaw and cheeks, and he had dark circles under his eyes, which watched her carefully. Her stomach twisted as she realized it might not be regret that darkened his face, but wariness.

  In their tumultuous back and forth, he had always let down his guard first—and she’d always thrown it back at him, using her anger and mistrust as an excuse to keep hiding from what he made her feel.

  She let the smile she’d been holding back break across her face, determined to take the first step toward accepting her new life in Mylena…her new life with him.

  His expression cleared, but she still sensed hesitation in him as he crossed the plank wood floor with solid thudding steps, taking Siona’s position beside her on the bed.

  Siona gave them a satisfied nod. “I will assume this means I’m not needed here any longer.”

  Before Siona could turn to leave, Greta held out her hand. “Thank you.”

  The female goblin lifted a sculpted brow. “What for?”

  “For watching over me. For being”—she cleared her throat—“my friend.”

  Siona gave her a baleful grin. “Don’t thank me yet, human. We’re both going to need to get back in shape. You might change your mind about being my friend when we start sparring together. I have every intention of paying you back for that situation with the faerie.”

  She chuckled, despite the scratch in her throat. “I look forward to it…and Siona?”

  When she turned back around Greta grinned. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” she said. “Your only chance of kicking my butt was when I was unconscious. As long as I can stand, you know I’ll wipe the floor with you any day of the week.”

  “We shall see about that,” Siona said as she passed out of the room with a turn of her hip.

  Isaac took her hand. His touch was firm. Real. “I am glad that you’re a
wake.” He sounded so formal.

  “What happened with the counsel?” she asked.

  His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a worried frown. “I hope I succeeded in convincing them that humans are no longer a threat to Mylena now that Agramon has been banished. At least, they haven’t posted a writ for the capture of you or your…friends.” He choked out the last word as if it caught in his throat like the splintered bone of a wild gallo, and sent her a guarded look.

  “What about your people? Will they still follow you, accept you as their king?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Now that I’ve betrayed them by falling in love with a human, you mean?”

  She gasped at the word “love”. Nobody had said that word to her in so long, her memory of it might only be a dream. But for once, this was no dream.

  His expression had frozen as he anticipated her response. She glanced down at her hands twisting in her lap. “It might help if we can get Siona to spread the word that the human owns a sword and isn’t afraid to use it.”

  “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  She bit her lip, then took a deep breath.“I still don’t understand how you knew I was the key to Agramon’s spell.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t know, but Agramon was certain of it. He insisted it was about your blood, something to do with your ancestors.”

  “But how could my ancestors have had anything to do—”

  He jerked his chin up. “It doesn’t matter. I’m only glad that you’re safe now. When that portal was closing, I thought you would be lost to me forever. And even though I pulled you out in time, it was as if some part of you remained trapped on the other side. You’ve been unconscious ever since. I couldn’t even reach you in dreams.”

  He’d been there, she remembered him. He was the reason she made it back. She plucked at a snag in the thick blanket covering her legs. “How long was I out?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the darkness of that place. “The others, did they get through the portal?”

  Oddly enough, she felt in her bones that they were safe. Drew was safe. She only wished there’d been more time. Time to tell him how sorry she was for everything. Time to hug him just once, and maybe give him a message for their parents. But no, it was better that they never know what had become of her.

  “All but the one who pushed you made it through.”

  “Ray. What did you do to him?”

  “I should have killed him, but he was gone before I’d even pulled you back.”

  “Oh, thank the Great Mother,” she whispered. Her breath leaked out in a long sigh of relief. Ray would find his way to Wyatt and the boys. She only hoped they had been safe at Luke’s place throughout the eclipse. Had they returned to the Dugout, she wondered, or maybe headed to the mountains in search of the Lamia?

  Isaac dropped her hand. Startled, she looked up in time to see the flash of hurt cross his face before his eyes darkened. “You would still choose them over me, wouldn’t you?” he asked. “If you thought it was possible, you would have left with them.”

  She shook her head. “No—”

  “Even now, you’re thinking about the ones who are still out there hiding in my forest. You’re wondering when you can go to them.”

  At her hesitation, he shot up from the bed. She called him back, but he paced back and forth across the room. “After everything I sacrificed for you—”

  “Isaac.”

  “Everything we’ve been through together…”

  “Isaac!”

  He rounded on her with molten, glowing eyes and a guttural snarl. Surprised by how quickly he’d started to turn, she gasped as the dark emotions rolled off him in waves, but there was no hesitation when she clasped his hand and tugged him back to her.

  “I made promises,” she said. “I have a responsibility to them. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still be with you.”

  He took several deep breaths and fought to regain control. She put her hand on his chest, conscious of its fast, heavy rhythm. “I’m glad you brought me back.”

  His jaw clenched. “You’re mine, Greta. I would bring you back from death itself if I had to.”

  She smiled, curling her fingers in his shirt, tugging him closer. “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

  Acknowledgments

  This book is a big deal to me. Huge. The whole process, from start to finish, took a lot out of me. From fleshing out the idea, to writing the first chapters, getting feedback from my brilliant critique partners, finishing and polishing the manuscript, submitting it for publication, and then going through the editing process. By the end of it I felt like I’d been stripped raw from the inside out…but it was completely worth it, and there were so many people holding my hand and helping me through it that I know I won’t be able to thank them all, but I’m going to give it a shot.

  First and foremost, I must thank my husband and my son. If writing and publishing is the deep dark lake in which I find myself swimming, then they are the solid slab of bedrock I jumped in from, always there for me to climb back out of the water to rest whenever I get tired and fearful of drowning. And I love that this particular rock always has clean laundry.

  I have to thank the rest of my family, too. My mom and dad, brother and sister, and both of my grandmothers (in their eighties and reading my books!) have all been more supportive than I could ever have imagined. No matter what I write, they never turn down their nose at it and are proud of me.

  I can never thank my critique partner enough for everything she’s done to help me get where I am today. Christine is not only smart and funny, talented, and experienced in the ways of the Force, she talks me down from that jittery, neurotic place I go to every once in a while. She has the most amazing gift for plotting I’ve ever seen. At the drop of a hat, she’ll take an idea and run with it until we have a steampunk romance with aliens coming down from the sky to torture medieval werewolves…and it all works brilliantly! As a critique partner, she balances my shortcomings perfectly. I can’t say enough about how wonderful she is except to send her a…Snoopy Dance!!

  Other critique partners and beta readers I need to send out a shout out to are Paula W, Amy R, Kimber C. Also, the fantastic Teen authors at Entangled Publishing have been a blast to get to know and are so supportive it’ll make you cry, including Melissa West, Rachel Harris, Tara Fuller, Lisa Burstein, Lea Nolan, and Cindi Madsen. These are all super-charged writers and wonderful women whose friendship means a great deal to me. I’m so thankful for their support and encouragement.

  Mucho love goes out to publicist Heather Riccio, who is a goddess. The work she’s done to get this book into the hands of reviewers and readers has been massive. I am in awe of her powers of organization. As everything started to snowball towards release date, no matter what question I had or what request I made, she was always completely on top of it. If not for her, I might have fallen apart a hundred times, but she’s so amazing that I always find myself smiling instead. I could not have done anything without her and I may never let her go.

  I also want to thank Deborah Cooke (also known as Claire Delacroix), Michelle Rowen (also known as Morgan Rhodes), Kelley Armstrong, and Rachel Harris, who are all epically awesome authors. Their support of my work has been immeasurably generous, and their kindnesses made me cry hot, messy, destroy-your-makeup tears!

  Along the way to publication, there have been so many other people who have been patient with my absences or distractions, supportive of my delusions, enabling of my obsessions, and who are great friends. Some of those people are Stacey O’Neale, Shannon Duffy, Lori Leduc, Yvonne Blackmore, Laurie Pescod, Lisa DeGooyer, Claire Veitch, Gordon Robson, Kait Batte, Colleen Dyck, Adrienne Dwyer, Jenny Schwartz, PG Forte, Stacy Gail, Tiffany Clare, Elyssa Patrick, and Maggie Robinson. Thank you all!

  Finally, and most importantly, thank you to Liz Pelletier and the Entangled Publishing Team. Special thanks to Tahra and Jessica, and especially my
editor, Heather Howland, who has so much skill and talent for what she does, it makes me breathless with wonder. I’m still in awe that she was able to look at the flawed story I sent her and see beyond it to the beautiful book it eventually became. She saw the tale I was trying to tell better than I did, and she understood my vision for it. She was sharp and brutal and brilliant, and she helped me become a better writer…all with a thousand and eighty other things on the go at the same time.

  Before I go, let me thank YOU—dear Reader—in advance. I hope you enjoy the book!

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