“You have come to speak to the Goblin King, and he has met you as requested. This is a sign of respect he has graciously given you.”
The woman translates his words perfectly, and though Tauron and the rest of us bow our heads respectfully, Prince Soren does not. His eyes are unblinking and steady as he stares back at the Goblin King, his face carefully blank.
“I’m here to negotiate a trading route through the Goblin Lands to the Western Fyres. The witches have destroyed the old path, and we can’t repair it until we take back Yrmar Castle.”
The translator passes this on, and the Goblin King frowns, speaking sternly as the translator relates it back. “We will not have the high fae traveling through the Goblin Lands. There’s too much animosity between our people, and I will not risk goblin lives for the high fae to collect their pretty trinkets.”
My gaze moves around the group, their faces as impassive as ever. There's no chance the Goblin King is unaware of the desperation in the rest of the kingdom. He's baiting Prince Soren and forcing him to admit the truth of the situation.
Prince Soren’s jaw clenches hard, but he’s obviously prepared himself for this response. “The trading route is for food and supplies. It will never be used for such frivolities.”
The Goblin King cocks his head, his eyes searing. “I would think with the war, you’d have fewer mouths to feed, not more. Are your farmers so lacking that they cannot keep up?”
If Prince Soren loses his temper, I’m going to be forced to step in just to stop our fates from being broken, and the very idea of such a thing eats at me. He doesn't deserve my help and, as far as I'm concerned, he deserves every bit of the Goblin King's taunting. The derision in the princes’ tones when they’ve spoken of this male was enough to reveal to me their prejudices.
”The witches have destroyed the lands and nothing grows. I’m working to win the war and set things right once more, but I cannot let my people starve while we fight to rid the lands of Kharl and his forces once and for all.”
The Goblin King nods slowly before looking around at the lush land he stands on. “I don't think the earth dies everywhere, Prince, only where the high fae rule with arrogance. Your kind have forgotten much of what it means to be a caretaker of this kingdom.”
The censure in his voice is clear, no matter the language he uses. Even with the translator softening his words, there's no denying he’s appalled by them all. The Goblin King studies our group with a sneer on his lips, only this time his gaze catches on me.
His eyebrows rise slowly, incredulously, as he snaps, “A witch amongst the high fae. Have you brought her here as a threat to me?”
Before the translator has the chance to relay the information, I bow deeply to the Goblin King, ignoring Tauron’s curse and the hand that wraps around my arm to drag me back up.
“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I’m here only to speak with you about an herb I would like to collect on our return home, just a few bushels, and one that grows in abundance here.”
The translator begins to translate both his words and mine, but the Goblin King doesn’t wait for her as he addresses me. “You're here with a high-fae guard to collect herbs from my lands? This is most unexpected. What is your name, witch, and what coven do you hail from?”
A smile tugs at my lips, even as I try to smother it. He's the first high fae to ask me that since I returned, a show of respect and a good sign for this conversation.
“I am Rookesbane Eveningstar, Mother of the Ravenswyrd Coven.”
His face slackens in shock. He takes a single step forward before he sees the ripple of unease among my group at his approach, that they don't understand what we're saying and see his approach as a threat. Prince Soren is probably assuming I’m conspiring with the king, but before I can offer him any reassurance, the Goblin King speaks.
“A Ravenswyrd witch? You're the Favored Child returned.”
Unable to fight it, a grin spreads across my face. “You speak to the trees? I’m delighted to hear such a thing, Your Majesty! I hoped someone was still listening to their stories after my brother and I left for the Seelie Court. It's a relief and a great honor to know that a king such as yourself hears their songs.”
He scratches his chin, a knowing look passing over his features, and murmurs quietly to the translator, low enough that I don’t catch their words. She stopped translating our conversation to the group when she heard my coven’s name, the Goblin King’s shock making her cautious.
She nods to him, and he looks back up to meet my gaze as he addresses me once more. “The goblins never stopped speaking to the trees. The Ravenswyrd has missed you for a very long time, and the sorrowful melody it sang for you reached far across the kingdom. I hope you return to the trees again soon, they have mourned your loss.”
Tears prick at my eyes, unbidden, and I nod, unable to find words.
He takes pity on me and changes the subject, steering away from such painful admissions. “What herb do you require? I would not so easily dismiss a request from you.”
“The herb I am looking for is milk thistle, nothing valuable or rare. I would never insult you or your people by asking for something precious.”
There’s a knowing look in his eye as he nods to me, his reply a statement not a question. “The curse is broken. A high-fae baby has been born.”
Prince Soren’s concern for the baby’s safety rings in my ears, but when I hesitate to answer, the Goblin King holds up a hand. “I felt the moment the curse broke—you’ve shared no secrets with me. You can take as much of the thistle as you can carry, but only you. The high fae have found no favor with the goblins and will get nothing from me. Tell me, witch, are you being held against your will? Let me offer you sanctuary here among my people. Ravenswyrd witches are always welcome on goblin lands.”
I bow again deeply, ignoring Tauron’s furious muttering as I reply, “Thank you for such a generous offer, but I returned to the Southern Lands to follow my fate, and I must now stay with the high fae.”
His brow furrows, his gaze tracing over my group once more. “Your fate demands you stay with them?”
His eyes fix on Tauron’s hand, wrapped tightly around my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh and sure to leave behind a bruise.
