Chapter Three

Narrow stairs made of carved rock led up to our estate. A wooden archway beckoned me into the main yard. Fruit trees lined either side of the walkway; chest-high stone walls surrounded the property. Moonlight illuminated the lone bench near the fountain, a place I often went to read. The warm breeze shifted, grasping hold of my hair like invisible hands.

With a sigh, I moved toward the wall and peered down at Gob Hollow. I could just make out the palace in the distance and the shops and homes below.

“There ye are.” Cook rubbed her hands on a cloth. “Yer meal’s going to be cold if ye don’t come in and eat.”

“You always say that, and it burns my mouth like I’ve sucked down boiling water.” I ambled to the door and into the house. “I’ve got to put my things away, then I’ll be down.”

Stone floors echoed my footfalls as I grabbed a lantern and headed up another flight of stairs. They spiraled around until I stepped onto the white marble floor of the second wing. Old paintings of ancestors and scenes of Gob Hollow lined either side of the hallway. Wrought iron sconces were evenly spaced between the rooms, casting eerie silhouettes. When I got to the end of the corridor, I shoved open the heavy wooden door. Making sure Cook wasn’t behind me, I hurried to my armoire. Click. The hidden door at the back unlatched, and I unlocked a second door carved into the wall and slid my newest book inside with the others.

Over the past year, I’d been doing research on my possible lineage. The urge to know my ancestry kept me up when I should be sleeping. If I got caught by the wrong person, I could face a hefty punishment, like imprisonment. However, the need to know outweighed the risk.

Before going back down to the dining hall, I set out my cloak, hiding my dagger beneath it, and then ran a brush through my long hair.

“Make sure ye wash up before ye sit down to eat,” Cook hollered from the kitchen, the scent of her infamous pork stew and bread wafting in the air.

A basin of water sat on a counter at the back of the dining hall, a cloth laid out for drying my hands. Two places were set at the mahogany table, a decanter of wine and a decanter of juice sitting in the center.

Flames flicked in the marble fireplace, the head of a stag hanging above it. Its lifeless eyes seemed to stare right through me. A log in the fire crackled, making me jump. What was wrong with me? Dumb question. I was about to break into one of the most important buildings in Gob Hollow. A building I’d barely seen the outside of, let alone the inside.

“Just stay calm,” I whispered.

“What’d ye say?” Cook came into the dining hall with a cast-iron pan of stew, followed closely by a servant carrying a platter of hot bread.

Forcing a smile, I walked over to the table and sat down. “Nothing, just muttering to myself.”

“Are we to expect yer father this evening?”

“No, the council has meetings to get through.”

Cook slopped some stew into a wooden bowl, then cut a chunk of bread off and handed it to me. “So all the talk about a Mission is true?”

“Yes.” It was hard to hide my excitement.

“And I suppose ye want to go?” Her robust body filled the chair across from me.

“More than anything. Dorian”—I began—“I mean, Prince Dorian said he’d put in a good word for me.”

“Like ye need a good word from him,” Cook said under her breath.

“What?” I squeaked, trying not to laugh.

“Never ye mind. But don’t think I haven’t noticed how much ye been talking with him. Or how he’s joined us the last few Hagsdays for picnics.” Cook reached over and patted my hand. “Do ye fancy him?”

“No. I mean, he’s great with a sword but not really my type. Too pretty. And even if I did think of him that way, he’s the prince, and I’m only a half-blood.”

Cook slammed her fist down on the table, and I jumped, nearly knocking my bowl of soup over. “He didn’t tell ye that, did he?”

“No, he didn’t say anything of the sort.” My voice softened. “But I know what everyone thinks of me.”

“So do I. They think yer beautiful and a good warrior. The Hag’s arse if I don’t hear Amos down at the tavern telling everyone about yer fighting abilities.” Cook dipped her bread into her bowl. “Yer something special, Ivy girl. Just because a few eejit nobles’ kids talk bad about ye doesn’t mean yer less.”

“Do you think I’ve got a chance to go on the Mission?”

Another servant came around and poured me a glass of juice. I took a sip, letting the tart taste of apples trickle down my throat.

Cook grinned. “I do. Between yer father and Councilor Wayfarer and all your extra training, they’d be foolish not to send ye. But let’s not worry about that; tell me about yer day. Hag knows I’ve heard enough rumors about ye swinging into the courtyard for class.”

I went on to tell her about school and Vane, and even the part about Dorian and Pudge standing up for me. And when I finished, I heard the distant toll of the bell. I jumped to my feet.

“Listen, I’ve got to meet Pudge for an evening walk before bed.” I rushed toward the stairs to grab my cloak and dagger.

“Oh no ye don’t, girly! Yer father said no going out after late meal.” Cook stood, hand on her hip. Her eyes narrowed at me.

“We’re just going for a walk,” I insisted. “And we need to discuss our strategies for getting on the list.” Please believe me. Sometimes it stunk having a nosy household.

Cook threw her hands in the air. “Fine, but I tell ye what, if ye so much as get into an argument or bit of trouble with anyone in the village, so help me I’ll take a switch to yer backside.”

Cook always threatened this and rarely followed through—but she still sent the fear of the Hag through me. “Thanks. I owe you.” I ran up the stairs.

“Ye owe me more than once,” she called after me.

With my cloak secured and my dagger belted at my waist, I hurried out the door and down the path. Gob Benchley had gone home for the night, his store now dark. Music from the tavern echoed off the stone, the smell of pipe smoke and ale heavy in the air.

Curious, I brushed off one of the dingy windows to peer in and saw Amos and some of the other guards tossing back pints.

“I thought ye were going for a walk?” Cook said, suddenly behind me.

“Ahh!” I screamed and spun to face her, catching my breath. “You scared me to death.”

Cook’s eyes narrowed. “The tavern is no place for ye. Now move along.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Say, were you heading in there?”

“That’ll be none of yer business. Ye have yer fun, and I’ll have mine. But don’t ye dare be out til dawn. Ye know bedtime is before sunup.” Cook pushed around me and into the tavern.

With a chuckle, I continued down through the village. Darkness seeped in from every corner. The dim lanterns swinging back and forth from the posts along the road did little to light my way. As I came around to the Stone Arch, I spotted something atop one of the roofs. It was crouched down, wings spread behind it. But it stood so still, as if it were dead.

I screeched, backing up against the wall. Just then, moonlight peeked through the cloud cover, revealing Gob Artisan’s stone gargoyles. “Brilliant, let a hunk of rock scare you stupid,” I grumbled to myself, the grip on my dagger handle loosening.

“Who goes there?” a guard called from his perch as I approached the palace gates.

“Lady Ivy Archer.”

The guard motioned for the door to be opened and waved me through. “You heading to your quarters at the palace?” Looking up, I recognized him as Raleigh, Amos’s nephew.

“Yes. Father is in meetings tonight, so I thought I’d bring him a change of clothes for tomorrow.”

“Very good. Take care, milady.” He bowed, and I walked through.

Talk about dense. He didn’t even notice I wasn’t carrying clothing. With a glance over my shoulder, I made sure he faced the village before I veered away from the palace and headed down a hidden path. Hedges lined either side of the walk, and statues holding lanterns stood every few feet. Tree branches hung over the path like a roof made of greenery.

My heart thudded in my chest as I approached the granite archway leading into the yard of the Gob Archives…and I gasped. The structure was built of white marble; twelve columns surrounded the whole thing, and lanterns hung from the ceiling, twinkling like stars. In front of each column sat a bench and a statue representing each of the Twelve Hag virtues: Strength, Power, Kindness, Purity, Wisdom, Stealth, Charity, Bravery, Dependability, Faith, Honor, and Loyalty.

The Goblin Hag was a goddess witch of sorts. It was said that when goblins first came to be, she’d bless them with certain virtues. She was the strongest being, but one day the darkness had tricked her, killing her and sending her soul to the stars. Goblins still prayed to her, as she supposedly would give favor to certain goblins or even punish others.

I shivered at the last thought. When I glanced back to the statues, I noticed the one wielding a sword seemed to stare right through me, as though questioning my strength and courage. My blood thrummed in my ears. Then the statue’s eyes opened, and I felt the flesh on my back burn.

Pain dropped me to my knees, the impact forcing the air from my lungs. “Oof!”

What was going on? Frantic, I searched the courtyard. When I looked at the statue again, its eyes were shut. “I must be imagining things,” I whispered.

I climbed to my feet, the skin between my shoulder blades stinging like I’d just been flogged with Kimblay’s switch. As I neared the Archives, I searched for Pudge, who was still nowhere to be found. He’d better not have bailed on me.

A rustling in the trees had me diving for cover, and then I heard the sound of groans coming from above.

“Ivy, is that you?”

“Pudge?” There he was, hanging from the tree in a net. “How in the witch’s tit did you manage this?”

“The King’s Council has this place guarded by booby traps. I stepped into one.”

They’d definitely caught a booby, all right. “Well, hang on while I cut you down,” I said.

“I can’t exactly go anywhere.” He snorted. “And they call you the smart one.”

My eyes narrowed. “It sounds like you’re asking me to leave you up there.”

“Sorry.” Pudge squirmed like a fish caught on a line. “Can you please just get me down before someone sees me?”

Once I made my way over to the tree, I searched for the rope, which was tied on a low-hanging branch. I unsheathed my dagger and cut it. Pudge fell to the ground with a thud and a yelp.

“Ow, could’ve been more careful—there are rocks down here.” He attempted to untangle himself from the net.

In the distance, I heard voices. We were going to get caught. I rushed over and tugged Pudge behind the bushes, where he fell in a heap, bringing me with him.

“I can’t get this net off.”

“Quiet,” I hissed from on top of him, pointing to a guard making his rounds.

I covered his mouth with my hand while I cut through the netting with the other, trying hard to ignore the increase of my pulse as our bodies pressed together.

Pudge stared at me, his gaze holding mine. His arm slinked around my waist, pulling me closer to keep me from being seen. His warm breath tickled my cheek as my head nestled down into the crook of his neck.

I shifted slightly, my lips accidentally brushing his skin. Oh, Hag, we were so close. I heard the sharp intake of his breath.

“Ivy, uh, you might not want to do that here. We’re friends, but even I’m not fully immune…” He grinned at me.

Blushing, I swatted his arm, pressing him farther into the ground. “Shh…”

“Did you hear something?” one of the guards said.

“Probably just some animal,” the other said.

After the guards went back down the path, we came out of hiding. We started to get up, but Pudge jerked me back down as Councilors Dundry and Girt came around the bend. His arms wrapped around me, keeping me behind the bushes.

“I thought you said the council was in a meeting?” I whispered in his ear.

“They’re supposed to be.”

“Did you have the gold delivered to the mountains?” Councilor Dundry asked.

“Yes, they said they’d wait for word from us before they make their move.”

“A shipment of swords will go out to them within the week.”

I stiffened. What were they talking about? Did Father know what they were up to?

“We’d best hurry,” Councilor Girt said. “We’re already late for the meeting. We don’t need the king getting suspicious.”

Their footsteps drew farther away, and after a few moments of silence, Pudge’s body relaxed as he blew out a breath. “I think we’re clear now,” he said.

“Yes.” Even though I wanted to know what the council members were up to, I knew I couldn’t follow. “Now come on, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Why don’t you go on in, and I’ll keep watch from outside.” Pudge hurried after me. “I’ll do our bird whistle if someone’s coming.”

“You sure you don’t want to see it?” I turned around. Hag knew we’d both wanted to get into the Archives since we were children. The more people told us we couldn’t do something, the more determined we were to do it.

“Yeah, you go on.” He glanced in the direction of Dundry and Girt. “I think one of us should keep watch. The guards will likely be making rounds again soon, so make it quick.”

I gave him a hug, and he squashed me against him. “Remember, whistle if you see anyone, and then hide.”

With Pudge standing guard, I sucked in a deep breath and headed into the most mysterious and secretive place in Gob Hollow.

My boots clunked against the marble tiles as I made my way down a long hall. Columns ran along either side of me, with roses, swords, eyes, and creatures carved into each of them. Candles in clay pots lined the walkway, casting strange patterns across the faces in the paintings.

When I came into the circular main room, my mouth dropped open. The dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with intricate paintings of cherubs, lovers, and battles. And glowing in the center of it all was a grand sword hanging from golden claws.

A humming sounded in my ears, and my heart pounded at my chest like it wanted out. For a moment I thought I heard the sound of metal clashing with metal, and the distinct clip-clop of hooves and battle cries.

“The Sword of Avarik,” I whispered. It might have been my eyes playing tricks on me in the dim light, but I swore it glowed even brighter with my words. Why was I able to see the sword? Legend had it that it only appeared when there was a need for it. My arms broke out in gooseflesh. Something strange was going on tonight. First the glowing-eyed statue, now this.

Come on, Ivy, you’re on a mission. Get the information you came for and go. The whole room was lined floor to ceiling with books. I hurried forward, noticing each column near the shelves had subjects carved into them.

I had only one question—it was my sole reason for coming into the Archives. I needed to know what I was. Not just the goblin side, but the other part of me. The blood that my father refused to talk about. The side of me which I spent defending nearly every day at school—that’d caused me so much ridicule and earned me the nickname halfer.

When I came to the column bearing the word “human” on it, my breathing quickened. I wiped my sweaty palms against my cloak, hesitating. What was I waiting for? This was what all my research up until now had led to. I needed to take a peek and go.

Grabbing a nearby candle, I walked down the narrow row of books until I stood in front of a large leather-bound tome entitled The Humans and Their History. I set the candle on a table and reached in to pull out the massive book, which was as tall as a sheep and thicker than my leg.

With a grunt, I managed to tug it out and carry it over to the table. Thud. I froze as the echoing thud died out. Darn it, the whole village probably heard that. I had to hurry.

My fingers trembled, and I took a deep breath. The musty scent of aged parchment overwhelmed me, but I flipped open the first page to the table of contents, then scanned the list of words until I saw The Anatomy of a Human.

This was the moment I’d waited for the past several years, and yet I hesitated. Fear gripped me—what if after all this, I still didn’t find the answers tonight? Then what?

Quit wasting time, Ivy. You’ve got to hurry up. You didn’t go through all this to not take a look. Sucking in another deep breath, I urged my trembling fingers to continue.

I turned the pages, gasping when I came to the colored drawing of a human female. Smooth skin, hair that wasn’t coarse, no horns or jagged teeth. Breasts shaped like my own, and arms, legs, everything in the same proportion it was on my own body.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I was half human. My mother must have been human—no wonder my father didn’t want me reading about them. But most importantly, if I had human blood in me, this proved they were not fairy tales.

So why did the council and king try so hard to convince us otherwise? What’d happened that made this outlawed? Whatever it was had come about during my father and the king’s Mission time. It was over seventeen years ago that the last Mission happened, which correlated with the laws forbidding anything that had to do with humans.

Tears burned my eyes as my fingers traced over the drawing. I wondered what she was like, my mother. Had she been brave? Did she love me—

A hand covered my mouth while strong arms jerked me back toward the row, between the shelves. I squirmed, throwing my elbows.

“Quiet, the guard is coming around,” Dorian whispered in my ear. His fingers fell away from my mouth. Relief flooded me—it was only Dorian, thank the Hag—but then it fled me just as quickly.

“The book, he’ll see the book.” I gestured in frantic motions toward the table.

Dorian pushed past me and lugged the monstrous book into his arms as if it weighed nothing. His gaze flicked to the title and then to me before he slid it back onto the shelf. The sound of footsteps entered the room, and we moved farther into the shadows, watching the guard walk around, lantern in hand.

Finding nothing out of place, he soon left.

Dorian stared down at me, his brow furrowed as if worried. “What are you doing, Ivy? Humans? Are you trying to land yourself in the prison mines?”

I didn’t expect him to understand, but he’d just kept me from being caught, so I owed him the truth. “I was trying to find information about what I am.”

Dorian grinned. “You didn’t need to come in here to find that out. I could’ve told you that you’re a goblin.”

“Half goblin,” I said and looked away. “Or so everyone keeps reminding me.”

He frowned, catching my arm. “Don’t listen to any of them. You’re the most beautiful goblin in the kingdom, not to mention skilled with weapons, and they’re jealous.”

Disbelief washed over me. Dorian thought I was beautiful? Maybe he needed his eyes checked. “They hate me.”

“Not everyone,” he said. “So show me why you think you’re part human.”

The lump lodged in my throat made it hard to swallow, and I stared at him before going back to retrieve the book. He stood next to me as I thumbed through the pages. When I got to the one with pictures on it, I showed it to him.

He touched the page, examining it closely. Then, turning to me, he said, “The resemblance is uncanny.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You realize that the last Mission goblins went on was when my father and Archer were a little older than us.”

“Yes.”

“It was after they came back from it that my grandfather outlawed everything having to do with humans. Kind of makes you think something happened. Maybe it had to do with your mother.”

My eyes widened. “You think so?”

“Maybe.”

We scoured through more excerpts, and I tried to memorize what I could.

After a while, he picked the book up and put it on the shelf. “Do you want to see if there’s any other information while we’re here?”

I nodded and followed after him, but no other titles stuck out. Had the whole human race been reduced to a single volume in the Archives?

When we finished, I stared at Dorian. How was it that we’d become friends? That he of all people chose not to shun me or make fun of me like the others had? Was it because our fathers were close? Did they force him to be nice? I shifted away from him.

“So has your father said anything more to you about the Mission?” I asked.

Dorian chuckled humorlessly. “No, he’s keeping the details a secret. Typical. But he promised me he’d have a list by tonight or early tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t get chosen,” I said. “All I want to do is be a warrior and follow in my father’s footsteps.”

“Maybe there’s more than that in store for you,” Dorian said. “Don’t limit yourself to just making the list, Ivy.”

“But if I don’t go on the Mission, then I’ll never be able to prove myself worthy enough.”

“Yes, you will,” he assured me. “But let’s talk of something other than the Mission. Like maybe this Hagsday you would allow me to accompany you and Pudge on your family picnic.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to ask.”

Dorian smiled. “I know, but I wasn’t sure if you had special plans.”

“No, I don’t, but speaking of special plans… Will you be a part of the Choosing Ceremony this year? I mean, since you’re old enough.”

“That depends,” he answered. “What about you? Will you be in it?”

“I won’t be seventeen until the month after the ceremony, so unless my father puts my name in, I should be home free for another year.” I gave a half-hearted laugh. The last thing on my mind was getting myself engaged—especially to any of the dragon sacks in this kingdom. Just thinking about the ceremony made my skin break out in hives.

The Choosing Ceremony was the event where goblins who were the age of seventeen or older could be paired up for marriage, though at seventeen they also had the choice to withhold their name as long as the family didn’t object. But the law also allowed for parents to put their child’s name in at sixteen. And if the family put the name in, there was no refusing. Lucky for me, my father wouldn’t do something like that.

“Maybe I’ll wait until next year, too.” Dorian offered a quick smile. His gaze seemed more intense as he stared down at me. He hesitated, then took a step closer. “Do you think I’d make a good choice for someone?” he said in a low tone.

My head bobbed up and down, the candlelight reflecting in the pools of his eyes. “Sure. You’re great with a sword, you’re smart, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re next in line for the crown.”

Why were we having this conversation alone in the dark? I needed to get back to Pudge. Last thing I wanted was to get caught in here with Dorian. People might make assumptions.

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. Everyone vying for me because of my title. No one even cares to get to know me. Well, other than you and Pudge.”

I frowned, glancing around the Archives. “It must be hard—you know, wondering if people are only being nice to you because you’re the prince.”

“It is.” He leaned against the back wall, tilting his head to the side. Then his eyes widened. “Quick, come here.” He jerked me into his arms. “I think someone’s coming,” he whispered against my hair as he pressed me closer into the dimness next to the shelves.

But the bobbing lanterns heading toward us chased away the shadows, revealing our hiding spot. There, standing and staring at us, was the full council.

Oh Hag, this isn’t happening!

The king exchanged looks with my father and Councilor Wayfarer before his gaze fell to his son.

Dorian draped an arm around my shoulder, tugging me close as if that alone would shield me from what was about to happen.

“Did you sneak in here?” Councilor Dundry hissed. His eyes grew dark with animosity, reminding me so much of his daughter, Birdie.

“No, I invited her,” said Dorian.

Everyone began muttering at once. “Unbelievable that they’d be caught in such a manner,” Vane’s father said. “Prince Dorian doing Hag knows what in the Archives with that girl.”

“Yes, makes one wonder how the children are being raised,” Councilor Dundry agreed.

My face flamed with heat. “Wait, we weren’t doing anything.”

Dorian stiffened next to me. “It’s my fault. I invited her here.”

“Everyone is dismissed,” King Starshooter said, his tone firm, leaving no space for questions, “except for Councilor Wayfarer, Advisor Archer, Lady Ivy, and my son. We will reconvene after everyone has supped.”

My father reached forward and pulled me toward him—away from Dorian. “You know what this could do to you?” Disappointment swam in his eyes. “Being caught here—and in his arms?”

Oh Hag, I was in trouble. If goblins were found together, well, in the manner that Dorian and I had been discovered, they were oftentimes forced to pair up.

“Father, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said.

Once everyone had filtered out, Father glanced at the king. “Did the whole King’s Council see this?”

The king nodded. “As we hoped.”

What? They knew this would happen? Their voices dropped to whispers, and a guard came into the room, towing Pudge after him.

“I found him outside, hiding in the hedges,” he said.

Councilor Wayfarer frowned. “We should’ve known. Lady Ivy and Pudgeons don’t go anywhere without the other.”

Pudge mouthed the word sorry, and I gave him a forced smile.

The king turned to Dorian and me. “You both need to go home and go to bed. And by that I mean separately.”

“Yes, your highness.” I curtsied.

Before Dorian was escorted away, he leaned over. “I’m sorry for all this. I hope you’re not angry.”

“No, I’m not mad.” Embarrassed was more like it. “I’ll see you tomorrow for class.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Sweet dreams.”

There was no way this would go unpunished. I didn’t know what the ramifications would be for us, but I saw a lot of chores in my near future.

“Pudgeons, you take Ivy home and stay there. Your mother is tending to Councilor Appleway’s wife, and I don’t want you to be unsupervised. Let Cook know the two of you aren’t to leave the house until it’s time to go to class tonight. It’s nearly dawn. Now off with you,” Councilor Wayfarer said.

Our parents never seemed to worry about us being alone. Partially, I think it was because they thought us more like siblings than anything else. Although, if they knew about some of my thoughts as of late, they might’ve changed their minds about us spending so much time together.

Once outside, I turned to Pudge. “I thought you were supposed to whistle to alert me about people coming in.”

Pudge shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind Prince Dorian being there.”

“It’s not him I’m talking about…the whole council came in. Now they think Dorian and I snuck in there to be together in private.” I kicked at a loose stone.

His eyes widened. “You two didn’t do anything, did you?”

“Holy Hag, do you even have to ask that?” Did Pudge not realize it was him I thought about all the time? That I spent my nights with him and my days dreaming about him?

“You should know, I tried whistling, but Councilor Dundry heard it. Before long, he called the guards. I swear I tried to warn you.”

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. At least he’d come with me. No one else would be caught dead spending time with me. Well, other than Dorian on occasion, but after tonight I doubted we’d be allowed to talk anymore. If Father had given me the chance to explain, maybe I could’ve talked my way out of it. “So, do you want to know what I saw in the Archives?”

Pudge quirked an eyebrow at me. “Sure.”

Taking a deep breath, I peered up at him. “I guess it’s not so much what I saw as what it is I found out. I’m half human.”

“You’re what?” His brows shot up.

“Human—I’m certain of it.” I shook my head, a new wave of frustration hitting me. “Father has lots of explaining to do. For starters, I want to know who my mother is.” And why King Starshooter’s father outlawed everything having to do with them.

“And you believe your father is just going to tell you?” Pudge asked.

Of course, Pudge was right. Father hadn’t been forthcoming as of yet, so what made me think he would now?

“Hey, hold on a second,” I said, pulling out my dagger and holding up the edge of my cloak. Sweat trickled down my neck, blond tendrils sticking to my face. The warm night air coupled with the excitement of earlier had me overheated.

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting a strip of cloth to tie my hair up. I’m dying here.”

Pudge watched as I sliced a section of my cloak off, then used it to pull my hair back off my neck.

“When did you get a tattoo?” Pudge’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Oh, I get it. You don’t want your father to know.” Pudge maneuvered to stand behind me as if to get a closer look.

“Pudge, I don’t have a tattoo.”

“Then what do you call this?” He tapped the place between my shoulder blades, where my skin was exposed by the low back of my dress. Then I remembered the scorching pain I felt at the Archives.

“Wha—what is it?” My throat constricted; nervous tingles fluttered in my stomach.

“There’s some lady, the Hag, I think holding a sword, surrounded by…” He started to count. “Twelve objects. They look like those statues outside the Archives.”

“Do you still have that mirror in your pouch?” I asked.

“Yeah, hold on.” His mother made him carry it around to check his teeth for food. Not that he ever used it.

My hands trembled. “Can you hold it up for me to see?”

He shifted the mirror, while I twisted my head to the side, catching a glimpse of it, and sure enough, centered in between my shoulder blades was a tattoo just as he’d described. Uneasiness washed over me. What did it mean? Did it signify some sort of punishment for breaking the rules after going into the Archives? The Hag had been known throughout legend to not only bless people but to also strike them down. Is that what this was? I bit back the fear churning in the pit of my stomach.

“Pudge, I didn’t do this. It wasn’t there before we went to the Gob Archives.”

He traced it with his finger, sending fiery hot flashes through my body. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the tattoo, but I caught the reflection of his green hand in the mirror.

“Maybe it’s a sign from the Hag,” he said.

More tingles raced over my skin as Pudge moved another section of my hair out of the way.

“Yeah, what kind of sign?” This didn’t seem possible. How would I explain this to Father? More like what could I wear to hide it? Goblins like me didn’t get tattoos like this, unless, of course, they spent some time down in the mines or they were of full-blooded noble birth. All the nobles I went to school with had some sort of marking, mostly of their family crests. Proof of their lineage. So, what was this? Had the Hag truly marked me? Or was it a punishment, like I first thought?

“It’s probably the wicked Hag sign.” Pudge put his hands up like claws and pretended to take a chomp out of my shoulder.

“Real funny.”

He grinned. “I’m trying to cheer you up. You know your father will sentence you to the house after catching you in the Archives, which means we won’t be able to hang out as much.”

He had no idea how right he was. And the thought of not seeing him made me sick to my stomach. Would he find someone else to spend time with?

“C’mon, let’s just get home,” I said, wondering how so many things could go wrong in a single night and trying not to think of what might come next.