I squeezed my eyes shut. “I guess you don’t get many visitors here.”
“On the contrary,” she said, surprising me. “But none I’ve gotten to use my creativity on in a while. Arms up.”
I turned to face her. “What does that mean?”
“It means lift your arms.”
I struck a T pose. “No. None you’ve gotten to use your creativity on.”
Bobbins let out a hoarse laugh as she worked her way down my torso with quick, experienced movements. “Exactly what I said.”
Astaroth had brought other women here? To do what? Have sex with them? Make babies? Was he trying to build a harem? The image of Astaroth surrounded by beautiful women pawing at him and running their fingers through his mane of glorious hair made my stomach sour and teeth grit. If he thought I would willingly join his little cult, he chose the wrong female.
After measuring the rest of my body, Bobbins said, “Clothe yourself and tell me what you’d like.”
A smirk tugged at my lip as I dressed. If I had to be stuck here against my will, I would toy with him and drive him insane along with me. I drew some quick sketches on a yellowed piece of paper to explain what I wanted while Bobbins stared at me like I grew a second head, then hurried out of the shop before she could tell me no.
“Jessandra?” I called out when I didn’t see her.
I leaned against the building, worried it would topple at first, and watched the hustle and bustle of the market down the street as I thought about what Bobbins said. Did Astaroth have other women here? Were they goblins now? Was I going to become one? My heart rate spiked. I hadn’t really thought of that until now. That should have been one of the first questions out of my mouth when Astaroth arrived on my doorstep, but there were other happenings that took precedence.
“Jessandra?” I panicked and searched between the buildings.
The stone pulsed that soothing rhythm again. It worked through my body, easing the rising tension and pent-up frustration from all the unanswered questions. I took a breath and looked back at the market.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled and strolled up the street to do what I wanted to do to begin with.
The first booth didn’t have anything I wanted, but the next booth had wooden music boxes with gorgeous, intricate designs carved into them. One with a tree caught my eye. The same tree on the tapestry in the dining room. I picked it up, flipped it open, and a song started to play. I hummed along with it until it ended. Confused, I closed the box and stared at the lid. I had never heard that song before, so how did I know it?
As I went to open it again, a hand landed on top of the box slamming it shut. An irritated goblin with a tuft of hair sticking straight up from its bumpy head said, “The first listen is free. If you want more, there is a fee.”
“Oh.” I glanced down at the box before he snatched it from my hand. “It’s quite beautiful. Did you make all of these?”
“I did.” He beamed.
“Do they all play the same song?” I asked, opening a different one with a swirl on the lid.
He closed it nearly pinching the skin of my finger.
“Do you want it or not?” He held it up with a little wave of his hand. “Five pretty pennies.”
I frowned. “I’ll have to get it next time. Astaroth didn’t give me any money.”
Eyes wide, he said, “Sire sent you?”
“Um, yeah,” I replied, noticing others slowing down to listen.
He quickly set it aside out of view. “I’ll take it to the castle.”
“Tha—” I caught myself when his eyes widened again. “That would be wonderful.”
His shoulders fell along with his hopes of me owing him a favor.
The moment I turned to walk away, a gaggle of goblins mobbed me. They fought each other to get near, almost knocking me off my feet and shoving wares at me to get my attention in the hopes I’d buy from them, too.
“You know you need a biscuit whipper!”
“What about a zwoot? Everyone needs a zwoot!”
