Page 165 of Echoes of the Banshee

I try to sit up, and B steadies me, but his grip is frail, a grimace dominating his features.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, my voice shaky as B shifts, reaching out to knock on the metal wall. The sound reverberates in the enclosed room. “What are you doing?”

“Getting their attention,” he replies.

Before I can argue, the door creaks open, and a goblin steps inside. It’s not Grunt, but one of his lackeys, the one with red hair. His gaze studies me, then shifts to the small pile I hadn’t noticed before: food, a case of water, ten boxes of pencils, a—an oddly shaped rock, and what appears to be a child’s stuffed bear missing an eye.

“You’re awake.” The relief obvious in his voice. “How are you feeling, miss?”

I’m confused by his worry, but I tell him I’m okay.

The goblin fidgets for a moment before nodding. “We—we brought you some pencils,” he says, like he hopes I’ll forgive him. “We tried to convince boss to get you a healer, but he refused. But we got you a brace.” He squats down next to me, helping me put the brace on my arm. I can’t help but notice how sad he looks.

“Thank you.” I give him a small smile that makes me taste iron as my lip reopens. He looks sadder.

“If you need something, you can knock.” He stands. “Please get better.”

He leaves as quickly as he came, shutting the door behind him.

“What was that about?” I ask B.

He gives me a half-smile, though his concern is still evident.

“Goblins don’t do well when women are hurt or in trouble. We’re… wired that way.”

“They kidnapped me,” I point out.

“And now they’re freaking out that a woman protected by favors has been hurt on their watch,” he counters gently.

I open my mouth to argue but close it again. The truth was that the interruption had given me enough of a pause to steady my breathing. I hurt. Everywhere.

“I didn’t know that was part of the favor, one of them said they could smell it on me,” I hedge, hoping for clarification.

“Yes, it’s not something we usually advertise, but you are — well, should be, very protected from goblins after all the favors you’ve gotten,” he says, his voice tinged with frustration. He reaches out to cup my face. I wince a little as he touches what must be a huge bruise. “How many times did they hit you?”

“It was only Grunt, the others refused.”

“I’m not surprised,” he says. “No goblin with any honor would.”

“Well, they might not have hit so hard,” I joke but he doesn’t laugh.

“Tell me honestly Thea,” B says, his voice breaking slightly. “One of the goblins said you didn’t even react when he hit you. What the hell have you been through?”

I look away. We don’t have time for this.

“How long was I out? How much time did we lose?” I ask, fumbling for the nail I hid earlier.

B’s hands close around mine, halting my frantic movements.

“Stop, look at me.” He waits until I make eye contact. “Who’s Lazlo?”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“You were calling out for them.”

The empathy in his eyes knocks down the walls I no longer have the strength to hold.