My feet move without thought only to stop as Rooke holds up a hand, her eyes imploring. "The goblin soldiers have done nothing wrong. I've spoken to her myself, and all she will speak is a plea not to be sent back to Yris. She's terrified and traumatized."
She hesitates, glancing around the confines of the shield before she says hesitantly, "To most, she will seem high fae, but I sought out her lineage with my magic and found royal bloodlines with the barest trace of pixie. She looks solely high fae, but she’s only a few decades old, maybe four at most."
We both know exactly what stupidity caused this mess at the expense of the female, and a curse falls from my lips. The shield conceals the vitriol from my household as I seethe at the Unseelie Court’s perverse obsessions, their arrogance rearing its heads once more at the expense of this defenseless young female.
Rooke hears me out and nods, a hand running down the center of her robes and catching on one of the pins there, a soothing action as she attempts to hold back her own temper.
"If I had to guess, I'd say that a royal high-fae female gave birth during the curse to a live baby and discovered that, somewhere along the line, a family member had a relationship with a lower fae and hid it, only to have it potentially exposed by this child. Wherever they dumped the baby, the female has been horrifically abused and is now at the mercy of her rescuers. The Goblin King has healed her and seen to her care, but his people were unable to communicate with her."
I scowl at her. "They have translators in the goblin lands. Could he not speak to her and find out more?"
"She's deaf and, I think, possibly mute as well. The goblin lands have a different form of sign language, and the healer who was tending to her didn't know the high-fae way."
I’m struck once again by the knowledge and sheer competence of my Fates-blessed mate. She has dozens of ways to communicate with fae folk of all kinds tucked into her belt to provide the best care she can anyone she serves.
No wonder she’s looked down upon the high fae at every turn.
Her thoughts don't seem to spiral the way mine do; instead she focuses on the tasks ahead. "I need to get her out of the carriage and into the healer's quarters without traumatizing her further and without your soldiers attacking the goblin soldiers, assuming their guilt. I understand that, politically, this is a delicate situation and could be viewed as the Goblin King disobeying the accords, but he's done right by this female and the kingdom. The plants that he sent me were a gift but also a test of how accepting Yregar would be. This is a great amount of trust he's placed in me and my ability to navigate this with you without besmirching his people."
Turning away from her abruptly, I say, "Let down the shield."
Her eyes narrow, but she does as I command, face becoming carefully blank as the sights and sounds of everything around us sharpen once more and all eyes stay firmly affixed on us.
The goblin soldier leading the group watches me closely, and I incline my head at him. "Thank you for seeing my kinsfolk across the kingdom safely, a generous gift to my Fates-blessed mate. We’ll care for the female and ensure that no further harm will come to her. Be assured, whatever justice we may serve for her treatment will be swift and sure.”
Rooke translates for me, and the goblin soldier jerks his head into a bow, deeper than before. His reply is confident as it rings through the courtyard, regardless of its indistinguishable nature to those who watch on. I can pick out a few words that Rooke shared with me yesterday, and more that sound familiar, even if their meaning is out of my grasp. Finding any of the harsh tongue recognizable feels like a victory to me.
“He says he looks forward to returning at the winter solstice and seeing our progress with the female then. He kept a close watch on her while she stayed in the healer’s quarters and has grave concerns that more harm could befall her. Despite his concerns, he knows she’s safest with her own folk and is reassured by your words."
Concern is definitely on his face, clear as day, and murmurs begin around the courtyard as the household finally figures out what lies within that carriage.
I turned to Tauron and murmur in the old language, "We need to escort the carriage to the entrance by the healer's quarters and keep soldier presence to a minimum until we get the female in the carriage settled there."
His own scowl back to me is just as confused as the rest, but he nods and steps forward, interacting with the goblin soldiers through Rooke without malice or question.
Airlie glances at me and speaks in the old language. "A female? The Goblin King gifted Rooke afemale?"
Her tone is carefully blank, but I know that disgust is filling her, and I put an end to it quickly, not needing a new headache or campaign from my cousin right now.
"He gifted Rooke his trust to negotiate the return of a lost high-fae princess. Someone at Yris did this, and when I find out who, there will be grave consequences."
Tyton scowls, his hand rubbing over his chest, and he murmurs under his breath in the common tongue, for everyoneof high-fae hearing to hear, "The Fates are singing. The trees are unhappy, but the Fates are weaving regardless."
It’s a warning from the trees, or maybe the Fates themselves, but I don’t have the patience or the time to give his words much thought. Leaving Tyton on the steps as his eyes grow hazier, I step down into the courtyard to follow the carriage around to the healer’s quarters.
As I dismiss the household, Airlie and Roan watch me, both frowning after the carriage as though tempted to follow, but Rooke’s warning rings clear in my mind. "We don't want to overwhelm the female. If her mistreatment was at Yris, then seeing any of the Unseelie high fae could cause her more distress.”
Rooke opens the garden gate and hurries ahead into the healer's quarters before ducking back out with a small blanket. She murmurs quietly to the goblin soldier before he unlocks the door, and she steps into the small confines.
When she steps back down, the female follows her, blanket pulled up tight over her shoulders and framing a blond halo of curls. Though she’s taller than Rooke, she hunches over and trembles in terror, and my Fates-blessed mate finds it easy to bundle the female into her arms and coax her swiftly across the cobblestones. As they weave through the planters and up the steps. I turn to Tauron, my orders for him dying on my lips. Shaking just as hard as the female is, my cousin’s own skin is pale and clammy as he swallows.
I glance around at the goblin soldiers, but there’s no indication of what has happened here. Grasping Tauron’s shoulder, I’m about to shake him to clear the terror that has taken hold of him, but he turns to me at my touch, his voice cracked and broken as the confession tumbles from his lips.
"They were singing my fate, cousin. The female is my mate."
Tauron doesn't speakanother word, his color growing worse the longer we wait. We stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the goblin soldiers outside of the walled garden, and there’s no murmuring inside the healer’s quarters as reassurance, only the sounds of footsteps and the swishing of fabric as they move. The longer the silence holds, the deeper the itch digs into my skin as we're forced to wait with no information about the health of the cowering female or her state of mind.
Tauron’s mate.
