A Thief of Nightshade (21 page)

She stopped, eyeing the forest around her carefully.

“They’re all right, right?” a small frightened voice squeaked.

She crouched to her knees as Lipsey crawled from beneath a bison berry bush.

She nodded and patted her throat to indicate that she couldn’t talk.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Did you catch what Aubrey had?”

Given smiled weakly and nodded.

You could say that, she thought.

Lipsey would be fine, seeing as he belonged in the woods, but soon after finding him, she’d cloaked herself in a glamour to ensure she wouldn’t be seen.

Even so, they were miles from where they needed to be and finally, after walking for

several hours, she sat down and debated with herself what to do next. She knew in her heart that there was only one thing she could do, but it would take the very last bit of her strength and she feared that if something went wrong, she wouldn’t wake until it was too late to save them. After a moment’s pause, she decided that it was the only way. So, with Lipsey in her hold, she

mouthed

the

words

and

fell

unconscious just as she saw the faint outline of a Griffin.

Aislinn couldn’t decide if he’d been stupid or not. His pride kept telling him that he’d been brave for tearing through the bars and rushing the guards, but something else—something he didn’t much care to listen to, told him he could have taken a little while to use his head and not been quite so quick to resort to brute strength.

Now, with bruised shoulders and an aching side, he sat tied with chains to a large metal contraption that he was fairly sure meant a rather untimely end. But, more than his own well being, he worried about Aubrey.

Grotesque little creatures milled about, carrying tools that sent chills down his spine, and he tried the strength of his bonds for the thousandth time, to no avail.

“Where’s your companion?”

Aislinn turned to see a dumpy, brownish gray lump of a goblin standing to his left. “What companion?” he asked innocently.

The goblin stabbed at Aislinn’s arm with a blazing hot poker that he’d failed to see.

He growled, half in pain and half in fury. “Slimy, deformed piece of—wait until I get out of these chains. We’ll see how that poker looks shoved up your—”

The goblin laughed at him and poked again, this time sending Aislinn into a screaming fit.

“She won’t get far anyway. Besides, His Majesty already has what he was looking for.”

Aislinn glared at him, his breath coming in gasps. “Where is she?”

The goblin reached a table beside them and exchanged the poker for a

shining serrated blade. “You’ll see her soon enough. We’ve got some ...

adjustments to make first.”

In Jullian’s tale, Goblin Keep was as drab and dark as the cell she’d just left. As they emerged from the underground prison, she found that Koldavere itself was as she’d imagined it; dreary and unrefined, sludge coating everything from the stone streets to the rudimentary dwellings that flanked the narrow road that led to the castle.

The goblins’ slimy, knotted hands dug into her arms. She fell a couple times and was pulled inelegantly to her feet in their haste to bring her before the King.

She could sense their enjoyment and it bothered her perhaps more than anything else. What if an audience with the King meant sudden death? Just because it couldn’t be refused didn’t mean it was a positive thing. Hadn’t Jullian said that what he told her was a watered down version of the real thing? She’d laughed at that comment then, but wished more than anything she’d pressed him to tell her more.

How could I possibly have known that he wasn’t kidding?

She wasn’t finished regretting her choice when they finally reached Goblin Keep, and just like Koldavere, it seemed like a giant rotting corpse of a building.

She cringed as they walked through the doors, closing her eyes while they progressed through several terrifying halls, full of shouting and hissing, until she was announced and left standing alone.

“Surely you didn’t demand an audience with the King just to stand here with your eyes closed.”

Aubrey slowly opened her eyes and was floored. The room was resplendent, not like the medieval grandeur of Tabor’s throne room, where the woodwork, the furniture and the tapestries made drab walls look impressive. Here, even the ceiling was painted with glittering colors and the walls were complete with murals of beautiful, peaceful scenes. And, as Jullian had said, it was full of sculptures, but these, too, were unexpected. In his tales, they had been crude reproductions, giving the impression that a child had played at being a master artist, but the figures she saw could have reached out and touched her. She looked around for the face that went with the dusky voice, but no one stood near her. No one living, at any rate.

She reverently swept her fingers across the immaculately carved guests, marveling at the detail and the grace with which each figure had been rendered, as though a host of living creatures had come and simply been frozen in place. She touched the face of a young maiden and the hand of a small boy as it held the leash of his dog. She searched the aged lines of an old man and then, caught by the shine of his armor, she paused at the breastplate of a knight, his face partially hidden by a silver mask. He wore a deep red velvet cloak that was pulled over his head and pooled at his shoulders.

With her hand resting on the knight’s chest, she asked the anonymous voice, “And what if I have?”

A voice suddenly called out behind her, “Pity, with such beautiful eyes, that you would close them again.”

She dropped her hand and turned around, but there was no one there. “Will you not show yourself?” A hand fell on her shoulder then and she screamed.

“If you wish.”

Aubrey turned to see that the knight had somehow come to life, his mouth upturned in a grin. He withdrew his hand and gave her a partial bow. She didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t a teenage boy, as Jullian’s story had indicated, nor was it a goblin—indeed this was a flesh-and-blood man. She stumbled backwards a little, catching herself before she fell completely. “How did you...?”

He stepped out of his place and motioned toward the wall behind her where his voice had come from.

“Throwing one’s voice is easy enough.”

He stepped in front of her and asked in a soft and gentle tone, “Now, why have you requested an audience with me?”

She genuinely didn’t know what to say. She’d quickly come up with a handful of witty remarks for either a young boy or a gruesome creature, but she had nothing to say now. “You aren’t a goblin.”

“And you aren’t from Avalar.”

She looked down at her mud-soaked clothes and felt terribly out of place. “No.

I’m not. We were taken prisoner, my friends and I. You must let us go, we have to make it to the Winter Court before the coronation.”

He looked intrigued. “And why would that be?”

Certainly, the prison warranted the dreadful reputation, but the Goblin King seemed nothing but pleasant. “Because I am in love with the man Saralia intends to crown and I won’t let that happen.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. That does sound most unfortunate, but certainly something that can be remedied.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I knew you would—”

“Yes, well, not to worry. You will come to love it here in time and I do believe, though as I said it is most unfortunate, that your feelings on the matter of this former love of yours can certainly be taken care of.”

“What?” she asked, horrified.

He smiled and pulled the mask away from his face to reveal that above his handsome jaw was massive scarring— burns, perhaps, or worse. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

Her throat closed and she was short of breath. “Cain, you did send him?”

He furrowed his brow. “Who? Oh, yes, I did inquire as to whether or not you were the human Saralia had told me would be brought here. I had to know for sure that it was you. He wasn’t very useful. It’s so hard to find good help these days.”

“I’m not who you think I am, please, you’ve got to listen to me. She only told you that so you would keep me here.”

“I’m afraid you are exactly who I think you are. I have dreamed about you for so long. I know this face.” He reached out with his cold metal gloves and touched her cheek. “This sweet, porcelain face, like I know each and every statue in my throne room. Aubrey, you will never feel pain or suffering again. By my side, you’ll want for nothing.”

She leaned against the wall behind her, her vision swirling black from fear.

“My friends; please let them go if you are going to keep me here.” Aislinn could find help somehow.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that either. One of them has already escaped somehow and the animal is already, shall we say, otherwise engaged at the moment.”

She straightened back out. “What have you done to him?” she cried.

He slid his mask back into place and smiled. “It’s very sweet of you to concern yourself with him. I will take that into consideration. Now,” he lifted his hand into the air and made a swift motion with it and suddenly two doors swung open and she heard footsteps enter from her left, “let’s get you out of those terrible clothes and into something a little more fitting for my future queen.”

thousand voices and found herself in the arms of who she assumed was Ian, the shape-shifting Fae Griffin who had known her since she was a child. When she opened her eyes, her suspicions were confirmed. She first saw his hawk-like wings

and

a

downward-feathered

headpiece, the beak just above his forehead. He wore a leather vest and a deep red sash around his waist, signifying that he’d sworn his life to Oberon and taken on the revered mantle of the Griffin.

Ian made his way through the parting crowd into her uncle’s throne room. He gazed down at her, the displeasure unmistakable. Moments later, they passed through the doors into the King’s study, allowing the masses to whisper amongst themselves.

“Your Majesty.” Ian carefully placed Given onto the couch near the fireplace.

“She is not well. Her small friend,” he pointed at a pouch at his belt, where she assumed Lipsey was hiding, “says she cannot talk but doesn’t know why. He mentioned nightshade.” He was overly cautious with his words, probably unsure of how Oberon would react to the news.

“My child. What have you done?”

Oberon acknowledged Ian with a nod of his head, then went quickly to Given’s side. “I told you this was useless — what have you sacrificed for the sake of Man?”

Given shook her head. As if on cue, Lipsey popped out of Ian’s belt.

“Y-y-your Majesty?” he squeaked.

“Your Majesty, this is Lipsey. He spoke to me at length on the way here.

They were taken prisoner by Koldavere; the girl and Aislinn the bear, who Lipsey says is Prince Jullian’s brother.”

Lipsey puffed his chest a bit and tried to sound brave. “She caught what Aubrey had. Aubrey was drugged with nightshade at the Crimson Stair, where we met Given, and then she got really, really sick, but then Given did something and Aubrey was all better. Well, not all better because she’s sort of dying. She was attacked by a Time Wraith after we left home. But she was a little better...”