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When they had been in the Bifrost, she’d felt a strange sort of connection to him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the sensation, but it best resembled a sort of companionship and comradery. She wanted to trust him. But afterwards, in the nightmares and in the gardens, she hadn’t felt that at all. Everything had become awkward and strained between them.
Perhaps it was because he didn’t trust her.
The Bifrost stirred in the back of her mind. It caused her to jolt and elicited mutters of protest from Rig and Medda. She would never get used to that presence inside her. It wasn’t like something was inside her mind, but more an awareness of something just outside herself, something so close it could almost be inside her own mind.
She compressed her lips to keep them from trembling. She refused to give into the temptation to cry. This wasn’t the time or place, not in front of the children. She couldn’t fall apart, she needed to stay strong. The children needed her to have a plan: to not just act like she knew what to do, but to actually have a plan to follow. A direction to lead them.
She needed to understand what was going on with the Bifrost and between her and Jael and the book, if she were to have such a plan.
And if he wouldn’t tell her what she needed to know...
Her eyes flew open as she set her mouth in a firmer line, this time not to suppress trembling but to express her determination. If he wouldn’t help her?
Well then, she would just have to figure it out on her own.
Jael didn’t give her an opportunity to question him further.
He must have worked very hard not to cross her path for the entire next day. In fact, he still hadn’t made an appearance at bedtime when Trap announced that the children’s new bedroom had been prepared.
A general outcry of dismay erupted from all sides.
Anrid suppressed potent feelings of irritation and focused on the children. Medda wrapped her arms and legs around Anrid’s calf and wailed at the top of her magnificent lungs. Half a dozen of the others jumped around and grabbed at her arms and clothes as they begged to be rescued from their fate.
“Now, children,” she called over their combined voices. “This is for the best. Everyone will be perfectly fine. We will all sleep in our own rooms, and I will see you first thing in the morning.”
This didn’t console anyone.
Anrid exchanged a look with the housekeeper. Trap’s hair tumbled loose under her mobcap, and she had a ferocious expression on her face like she wanted to paddle someone.
But, to her credit, the housekeeper braced a smile and called out, “A cookie to everyone who goes to bed without a fuss! First one there gets the big one!”
A stampede of feet raced for the door. Only Medda remained, because it took her a moment to untangle herself, stumble to her feet, and totter after the older children. As she went, the little goblin hollered, “Me! Me! ME!” at the top of her lungs.
Anrid straightened her apron and touched Trap on the arm. “That was a stroke of brilliance,” she muttered.
The housekeeper smiled smugly. “Desperate times call for lots of cookies.”
“Indeed.” Anrid couldn’t help but laugh, despite her weariness.
The room prepared for the children was two doors down. The largest of the bedchambers, it would prove much more suitable if the children would only decide to use it. Anrid helped tuck the youngest into their beds, kissing smeared cheeks that hadn’t quite been scrubbed clean, and ruffling untidy curls not quite brushed. They tried though. That’s what mattered.
“I was here first!” someone bellowed over loud giggles, thumping feet and the rustle of blankets being pulled up and immediately tossed back down.
“No, you weren’t!” Rig’s outraged voice rose above the others. “I was first.”
“That isn’t so! It was me!” This came from one of the older goblin girls sitting in her bedroll in the back corner.
Anrid and Trap exchanged exasperated looks as Medda sat back up in her bedroll for the third time and screamed, “Me! Me! Me!”
Footsteps approached the open doorway as the maid with the cookies arrived. The poor thing lurked just out of sight, peering around the doorframe with jerky, nervous peeks. Anrid couldn’t blame her.
“Anyone who is under their blankets by the time I count to three will get a cookie.” Anrid raised her voice to make sure everyone heard her. Predictably, three dozen wriggling goblin children dove for their bedrolls. Squabbling ensued as blankets were torn from neighbors and multiple children tried to climb into the same bed.
Soon, however, she had everyone situated and took the large bowl of hard cookies from the maid, who grinned at her and raced away as quickly as she could to avoid being caught up in the uproar. Little faces beamed and happy voices called, “Thank you, Uh-NEE!” as she passed out the cookies, said her goodnights, and followed Trap to the door. The housekeeper closed it behind her and leaned her back against the solidness for a moment. Exhaustion lined her pale cheeks.
“You should go to bed, too.” Anrid tucked the cookie bowl under one arm and patted Trap’s arm with her free hand. “You’ve been overworking yourself.”
Trap peeked at her from one slitted eye. “Haven’t we all?” But her mouth quirked in a smile as she shook herself and peeled away from the door. “I’ll set one of the maids to guard the door and make sure no one escapes.”
