Chapter Twelve

With cloak in hand, Father stared at me, his eyes worried. “Before I go rushing out of here, would you mind explaining how you got that tattoo?”

“It happened the night I snuck into the Archives.” I went on to explain the statues and the dog.

“Does anyone else know?” Father asked.

My hands clenched the fabric of my skirts. “Just those in this room,” I said.

“Good.” He grabbed hold of my sleeve, then bent down so his face was level with mine. “Don’t speak a word of it to anyone else,” he ordered in a sharp voice.

I attempted to back away. “I won’t, but will you tell me what’s happening?”

Father frowned. “I need to get to the palace and speak to the king.” He turned away. “Cook, make sure she stays in for the rest of the night. I’ll see Pudge home.”

He hurried out the door with Pudge in tow. Something more was going on. And Father didn’t want me to know. Hag, I was sick of secrets.

“Off to your room with ye.” Cook ushered me toward the stairs. “I’ll be up with dinner and tea in a moment.”

Wetting my lips, I said, “Cook, what’s going on?”

“Nothing that concerns ye this second. Now get upstairs before I have yer head.” She glared, sending me scurrying up to my bedroom.

What were they hiding? Grr and I went to my room, where I tossed my leather purse and cloak onto the bed. As I cupped my hands around a candle, a flame leaped from the wick as magic pulsated from my fingertips, causing light to dance off the walls.

Once I lit more candles, I moved to my purse and took out the scroll from Dorian. Why did he need me to speak to his father so badly? Nothing made sense. Was it about our wedding? Or something to do with the Mission? Son of a beast, it could be anything.

With a sigh, I opened my armoire and pulled open the hidden door at the back, exchanging the note for a book. Where There Be Humans. Grr eyed me, then the book, and growled.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can read what I want.” I plopped down on my bed.

He grabbed it from my hand, shaking his head back and forth like he’d caught a beast and was trying to kill it.

“No!” I leaped to my feet, reaching for it. “Give it back.”

He rushed across the room and dropped it on the floor. The pages blew open, turning of their own accord…then stopped.

Taking a deep breath, I dropped to my knees and read.

Humans are hunters. They kill that which scares them. Over the centuries, humans have been romanticized in fantasies—their beauty and cunning and strength the downfall of many a race. And yet we desire them. We search for them, wondering what a life in their world could be like. Be warned, my wayward friend, that what it is you seek is dangerous. Yet I know my words will not deter you. You must see for yourself.

My pulse quickened, and I stared at the pictures. One showed a goblin in a cage, human men with spears poking him. Another showed a tournament, where a pretty human clung to a goblin man and others tried to rip them apart.

The door swung open, and Cook came in, carrying a tray of food. Eyes wide, I kicked at the book, trying to get it under my bed. But she saw it and set the tray on the table.

She bent down, arse tilted toward the sky for all to see, and picked it up. “Are ye mad?”

“I can explain—”

“The last thing yer father needs is to see ye reading this garbage.” Her glare held me motionless. “Ye know the rules. No fairy tales allowed in the house. Do ye really want to see what it’s like to be imprisoned? Because that’s exactly what’ll happen. This is outlawed. Goblins have gone to prison for having books like this. If Gob Benchley sold ye this black-market shite, I swear to all that’s holy I’ll run him through with a blade.” She shoved it in her apron pocket and stomped from the room.

Grr whimpered, and I patted his head. “Don’t worry, boy. She’s not mad at you.”

I sat at the table and glanced at the chicken and potatoes, which I mostly picked at, waiting for my father to come home. But the hours ticked by with no sign of him. What could he and the king possibly have to talk about for this long?

…

Creak-thump. Cook ripped open my shutters, letting in the early evening breeze. “Going to be a big night for you,” she said.

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned. It’d been over a month since I’d shown Father my tattoo and two months since the others had left on their Mission. Where had time gone?

Servants came in, carrying buckets of steaming water for my bath. My stomach did a nervous somersault. Today was the day. Hard to believe Dorian and the others would return from their travels already. What if Dorian had changed his mind about me in that time? I’d be humiliated. Biting back the tension, I forced myself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Amos had seemed jittery last night. Something about getting no word from Sergeant Sovner since they’d left with the younglings. But I shouldn’t be worried; Dorian was an excellent swordsman. My gaze shifted to the gown hanging on a hook near my armoire. The Choosing Ceremony would take place tonight, as soon as the gobs on the Mission came up the docks. A joint celebration. At least I didn’t have to go through the hassle of the Choosing Ceremony, since Dorian already spoke up for me, but Pudge would find out his fate tonight. A fate that would no longer be intertwined with my own. Sadness washed over me.

Marriage was not what I originally saw in my future. I wanted more. But I knew it could be way worse. I could’ve been paired with someone awful, like Vane. I could have a good life with Dorian. He was handsome, strong, kind, and he cared about our kingdom. So tonight, when I said my marriage vows in front of everyone in Gob Hollow, I’d do so with a smile.

“We’re on a schedule, Ivy. Now get yer lazy arse out of bed.” Cook ripped the blankets off me and grabbed my arm. “We will not be late to the ceremony.”

Flailing, I managed to get my feet on the floor before having my arm jerked out of its socket. “I’m up. Did you consider I might be trying to cherish my last free moments as a single goblin?”

Cook gave a snort. “Ye act as if yer a pig going off to slaughter.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No more of that poppycock. Get in the tub or I’ll be puttin’ ye in there myself.”

I scrambled to get my pajamas off, then hurried across the room, where I stepped into the steaming water. The heat nearly burned my skin off. “Witch’s brew, are you trying to boil me alive?” I yelped, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Quit yer bellyaching and get washed. I’ll be up in a bit to help ye get dressed.” Cook left the room, securing the door behind her.

I stood there, arms wrapped around my chest, letting my feet get used to the water before sliding the rest of the way in. Once seated, the water relaxed me—or at least loosened the tension in my muscles.

How could time have passed so quickly? It seemed like yesterday that Dorian had proposed, changing my future. Two whole months had gone by. And I never got a chance to speak to the king or figure out what Father knew about the tattoo—or more like Father didn’t want to talk about it. There’d been constant meetings, both secret and otherwise. It was like he was purposely avoiding me.

Nope, I’d spent weeks running into Birdie and her horrid friends. She chatted about Dorian and how he’d eventually realize he’d made a mistake in choosing me. Birdie said she was sure the whole thing had been a ruse, as there was no way they’d let a halfer be married into the royal family. Luckily, Pudge had been there to keep me from doing anything drastic.

With cloth in hand, I scrubbed my skin, the scent of roses wafting around me.

Cook came back in with some fruit and goat milk. “’Bout time ye be getting out of there. Don’t need to look like a wrinkled tit when ye’re saying yer vows.”

“And here I thought I might miss you.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Can’t I enjoy a few more minutes?”

“No time for that.” She handed me a large linen cloth. “Get dried off.”

Cool air kissed my skin as I climbed out. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glanced at the trunks already packed with my belongings. Once I said my vow today, they’d be sent to the palace.

I went over the plan in my mind. Pudge would no longer have to keep his promise to speak up for me. I just had to wait for the king and my father to call me up to the dais with Dorian, and then they’d go through the ceremony part. Easy as that.

This should’ve calmed me, and yet, I wondered what life might be like. If Dorian and I would fall in love. We got on well enough, and he knew me better than most people in the kingdom…

Oh, Hag. What about our wedding night? I’d never talked to Cook about that. I mean, I knew what happened in theory, but… My face burned with heat.

Heart thrashing like a fish caught in a net, I realized this was it. My whole future was laid out before me. Please, Dorian, don’t let me down. Please treat me as an equal.

“Oh, my,” Father said when he saw me. “Ivy, you make your father proud.” He came forward, wrapping me in his arms. When he pulled back, he studied me as if searching for answers to some unknown question.

“You approve?” I stepped back, spinning around.

“Yes, love.” He held out his arm, and I looped mine through his. “Let’s see you off, then.”

Taking one last look over my shoulder, he led me from our home. There’d be no more reading in the garden or sneaking out my window. Cook would no longer chastise me and Pudge for stealing food from her kitchen. My childhood was officially over. Next would come marriage, along with my training on how to be a royal.

“I think the dog wants to come,” Cook said from behind us. Grr scurried out of the house and fell into step beside me. “That mongrel better not get any dirt on ye.”

In the distance, the faint sound of flutes and drums sounded. Cheers rose as the ceremony participants arrived with their families.

“Archer,” Councilor Wayfarer called, waving him over. Pudge gave me a nervous smile from beside his father. His dark green tunic was laced with gold and silver threads, and his black breeches and knee-high leather boots had jewels sewn into the seams. For once, his hair was brushed neatly, his hands free of grime. He was handsome. The strange tingles I was starting to get used to around him fluttered in my belly. Flutters I shouldn’t be having now, since I was going to marry someone else.

“Hi,” I said, watching Pudge’s eyes grow big.

“Wow,” he said. “You look…”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Father squeezed my shoulder.

“Yeah. Beautiful.”

“You look nice, too,” I said to Pudge. My face warmed, and I turned away.

The king glanced in our direction and gave me a smile before turning his attention to the crowd. “We will begin the ceremony as soon as the Mission procession reaches the dais,” he said. “Our kingdom has much to cheer for this night. Not only are our heroes coming home, but we will witness the Hag’s greatness as she touches those who will be joined and matched in our Choosing Ceremony. One of whom is my own son.”

The crowd shouted and cheered. But Pudge and I were quiet. He gripped my hand, and I held tight. “This is it, Ivy. You’re going to marry the prince, and who knows where I’ll end up. I’ve tried to figure out who Father might’ve made a deal with on my behalf.”

“I pray to the Hag you end up with someone kind and beautiful. You know, I would’ve been happy to have you choose me, if Dorian hadn’t spoken for me.”

He gazed down at me, then reached up to give my cheek a gentle stroke. “You should know, Ivy, I…” He trailed off as we both peered back up to the dais.

“What is it, Pudge?”

He flushed. “Um—never mind. Now’s probably not the time.”

Why was he acting so odd tonight? With a sigh, my thoughts drifted back to Dorian. Would he really be happy with me? I didn’t want to think about the prince changing his mind, and yet I couldn’t help myself. I worried about so many things, wondering if I was worthy enough to be a royal. I still wondered about his letter. But most of all, I worried about him.

Green flags waved in the distance. The Mission guard was almost there. With my free hand, I fidgeted with my dress until Cook swatted my fingers. My palms grew clammy.

The group grew closer, and I held my breath as they came into view. Where was Dorian? I gazed on each battered face. What happened to them? Their clothes were torn; their faces were bruised and cut. Honour’s eyes searched the crowd, landing on the king. He made a beeline for him.

“Do you see Dorian?” I asked Pudge. Fear took root.

“No.”

Oh, Hag. He wasn’t with them.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Vane rushed forward, reaching the king before Honour.

“Prince Dorian was captured by humans,” he blurted. “They’re holding him for ransom, and if we don’t comply, they’ll kill him.”

Murmurs fanned over the crowd.

Humans. Captured. Dorian.

The words sped through my mind. It couldn’t be. A slow burn spread across my back, and I fell to my knees, screaming. The pain was too much. And Dorian was gone.

The Hag’s call. It had come.