CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Calista
Knees hit cobblestone with every goblin we passed on our way to the place Astaroth wanted to take me. He acknowledged each one with an affectionate pat on their head. The complete opposite of his cutthroat response to them last night. My hand rose to my neck absentmindedly as the images of my would-be murderers attacked my senses. I could still smell their blood and body odor. Burnt into my nostrils and coating the back of my tongue, the stench permeated me and wouldn’t dissipate. I swallowed down the vomit inching up my throat.
Astaroth said I had the choice to come or not, but he refused to leave my side either way. I couldn’t stand another minute in that stuffy bedroom, suffocating in the silence between us. There was so much I wanted to say but couldn’t. The trauma was too fresh, his actions too vivid and replaying in my mind—a continuousviolation of the senses. When he asked if I would like to go, I jumped at the chance to escape it. If he wouldn’t leave me alone to process, then I wanted out of the cramped confines he trapped me in. I wished I could escape the labyrinth entirely.
I thought of home as we walked the streets of the Goblin Circle. My chest ached and my stomach cramped. I missed Kaiden and Gina desperately and wondered how they were. How much time had passed since I was taken from them? I hugged myself and recoiled when the mummified goblin in my pocket brushed my hand. For whatever reason, Astaroth told me to bring it along.
A cloth tote hung across his body, bouncing against his outer thigh as he moved. The only sound between us were our thumping boots and the clacking of goblin corpses in his bag. If I could put a noise to the emotions swirling between us, it would be bloodcurdling screams.
Astaroth turned to the left and ventured into the labyrinth. I followed, wondering if I could run away from him and get lost inside the corridors. It had to be better than being with him. He said there was no way out, but that had to be a lie. The younger, rebellious version of me egged me on. She survived it then; I could survive it now.
“You are safe,” Astaroth said, mistaking my furtive glances for fear. “The beasts don’t travel this close to the city during the day.”
After a few turns, we stepped into a large open space with a massive stone archway. From the side, it would look like a hill. The labyrinth walls continued over the top of it. But from here, it opened and allowed you to enter the dark interior.
Astaroth climbed the stairs and waited at the top for me. Foreign words etched the stone that arched over his head.
“Where are we?”
“The Hall of the Unnamed.” His hand brushed the middle of my spine, and I stepped inside to put distance between us.
Pixie lanterns lined the pristine walls. Their soft glow revealed tiny floor to ceiling alcoves in the stone. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I back peddled and slammed into Astaroth. He gently clasped my biceps as he stared past me. His face softened in a sad way that kept me from stepping out of his reach. Wherever he was at this moment, it wasn’t here with me.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I have a duty to fulfill, and you need answers.” His hands brushed down my arms then walked ahead.
Astaroth reached out here and there, touching different alcoves until he stopped about halfway down. He beckoned me to him. I kept my gaze planted on his boots so I wouldn’t see the tormented faces, frozen with silent screams, begging me to help them. I stopped in front of the empty alcove, and he reached into his bag and withdrew one of the statues.
“Isn’t there someone in charge of this place? Shouldn’t they be doing this?”
He stroked a sorrowful hand over its delicate head like the goblins in the streets, then used his thumb to trace the rough indent where he sliced the goblin’s throat. Astaroth claimed he would kill every last one of them if they hurt me. That was the Goblin King I expected, severe and brutal. Not this Goblin King who exuded remorse for forcing his hand, or the one who cared for me when I was poisoned.
“I created this place. As their king, it is my duty to see to them in all stages of their lives.”
The macabre way he chose to store their dead was odd. Then again, he would probably think the same thing about humans if I told him we buried or burned ours.
Astaroth set him inside the empty alcove, then glided his fingertip along the wall beneath it as if he were writing. A nameappeared etched into the stone. I looked at the others nearby, and they also had writing beneath them.
When he stepped over one and pulled the next goblin out, I asked, “Why is this called ‘The Hall of the Unnamed’ if they all have names?”
“These are the names we call each other,” he said and set the goblin inside. His finger ran along the wall before he turned to me. “Not our given names.”
My face scrunched in confusion as he moved to another. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do we,” he mumbled so quietly I almost missed it. Astaroth stepped back and faced the wall of goblins. A deep breath filled his lungs. He appeared tired and forlorn as he continued with his task. “We have no memory of who we were before we were sent here.”
“From where?”
“Faery.”
My mouth dropped open. “Faery exists?”
Chest bouncing with a silent chuckle, he set a goblin in the empty alcove. “You question that while you stand here with me?”
“No, not really.” I shook my head feeling stupid. “Humans hear stories all the time. I didn’t realize the connection.”
