glee in his voice. He turned to Eliza and studied her for longer than needed.
Roan loosed the sword at his side. He could end it now and face Elryion for the final time. Roan clenched his fingers over the hilt. Elryion wouldn’t fight with weapons, only magic, and while magic couldn’t kill Roan, using it would lay waste to his soul. Only weapons could kill a goblin, and the druid was unarmed. If Roan drew first, Elryion would retaliate with magic. He forced his hand to relax. Now wasn’t the time, or place. His fading would trap Eliza in the Shadowlands. She would have to be home first. And he wasn’t ready to take her back. To be seen as a man one more time was all he wanted.
“Kidnapping, Roan. You get ever closer to the Hoard.”
“Anfri’s death is on your soul. You wrought this.”
“I stand by my judgment. Give up your soul. End your suffering.” The druid shook, and the crow took to the smoke-darkened sky.
The curse was so powerful that it had trapped the druid with them. Elryion had refused to retract the curse even though Roan had nothing to do with the rebellion’s failure. It was centuries before Roan had understood why the druid wouldn’t release them. In the end Dai had unraveled that mystery. If Elryion lifted the curse, he would become a goblin. The only way out for any of them was death.
“We’ve got company.” Dai drew his sword with one hand and a knife with the other.
Three goblins appeared dressed in clothing that blended with their skin and surroundings. Camouflage. They carried an odd assortment of weapons, but they were no less deadly. Above, the crow shrieked and the attack began. An arrow brushed past Roan’s arm and skidded into the dust behind him.
Dai threw the knife. It caught the goblin archer in the throat. His battle cry became a gurgle as he choked on his thick black blood. Roan drew his gun—he didn’t need another goblin to study—and fired twice. The two other goblins dropped into the dust like hideous, wilted flowers. He raised the gun and scanned the sky. But the druid was gone. The coward would never face him as a warrior.
He holstered the gun. “Scouts.”
Where they were more would follow. The druid had led the Hoard to his home. He glanced at Eliza, but her eyes were locked on the goblins’ bodies. He’d shared her horror once. Wondered if every scout he killed was Meryn. He’d learned the hard way not to let a scout live. They’d had to fight until they could barely raise a weapon just to survive after Hoard goblins found their camp. Since then they killed every goblin on sight.
Dai retrieved his knife and wiped it clean on the goblin’s clothing. “Do you have to use the gun?”
“It works.”
“It lacks class.”
“So does dying.” Drawing weapons at a funeral would displease any watching god. No doubt that was what Elryion intended. Did the druid still believe the gods would find him innocent and worthy to enter their hall? What would they think of him and all he had done? Would he be damned in every life he lived? An eternity of paying off sins committed while cursed. He glanced back at the goblins. Sometimes being a soulless goblin looked easy.
“You killed them,” Eliza said. Her voice filled with disbelief.
“It was us or them.” Roan took her arm to lead her back to the cave.
She tried to shrug him off. “How do you know that?”
“Because they are goblins.”
Her lips trembled. It was another breath before she responded. “And so are you.”
Roan touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She didn’t move, frozen by his heartless touch.
“Not yet, Eliza.” He cupped her chin.
Her lips were sealed tight, but her eyes were fierce, challenging him to act and prove her right. Magic whipped through his body, raising the hair on the back of his neck. He should remind her who he was and what he could do. Replace her fight with fear. He was the Goblin King.
The man he still wanted to be let her go.
She stared up at him
Roan loosed the sword at his side. He could end it now and face Elryion for the final time. Roan clenched his fingers over the hilt. Elryion wouldn’t fight with weapons, only magic, and while magic couldn’t kill Roan, using it would lay waste to his soul. Only weapons could kill a goblin, and the druid was unarmed. If Roan drew first, Elryion would retaliate with magic. He forced his hand to relax. Now wasn’t the time, or place. His fading would trap Eliza in the Shadowlands. She would have to be home first. And he wasn’t ready to take her back. To be seen as a man one more time was all he wanted.
“Kidnapping, Roan. You get ever closer to the Hoard.”
“Anfri’s death is on your soul. You wrought this.”
“I stand by my judgment. Give up your soul. End your suffering.” The druid shook, and the crow took to the smoke-darkened sky.
The curse was so powerful that it had trapped the druid with them. Elryion had refused to retract the curse even though Roan had nothing to do with the rebellion’s failure. It was centuries before Roan had understood why the druid wouldn’t release them. In the end Dai had unraveled that mystery. If Elryion lifted the curse, he would become a goblin. The only way out for any of them was death.
“We’ve got company.” Dai drew his sword with one hand and a knife with the other.
Three goblins appeared dressed in clothing that blended with their skin and surroundings. Camouflage. They carried an odd assortment of weapons, but they were no less deadly. Above, the crow shrieked and the attack began. An arrow brushed past Roan’s arm and skidded into the dust behind him.
Dai threw the knife. It caught the goblin archer in the throat. His battle cry became a gurgle as he choked on his thick black blood. Roan drew his gun—he didn’t need another goblin to study—and fired twice. The two other goblins dropped into the dust like hideous, wilted flowers. He raised the gun and scanned the sky. But the druid was gone. The coward would never face him as a warrior.
He holstered the gun. “Scouts.”
Where they were more would follow. The druid had led the Hoard to his home. He glanced at Eliza, but her eyes were locked on the goblins’ bodies. He’d shared her horror once. Wondered if every scout he killed was Meryn. He’d learned the hard way not to let a scout live. They’d had to fight until they could barely raise a weapon just to survive after Hoard goblins found their camp. Since then they killed every goblin on sight.
Dai retrieved his knife and wiped it clean on the goblin’s clothing. “Do you have to use the gun?”
“It works.”
“It lacks class.”
“So does dying.” Drawing weapons at a funeral would displease any watching god. No doubt that was what Elryion intended. Did the druid still believe the gods would find him innocent and worthy to enter their hall? What would they think of him and all he had done? Would he be damned in every life he lived? An eternity of paying off sins committed while cursed. He glanced back at the goblins. Sometimes being a soulless goblin looked easy.
“You killed them,” Eliza said. Her voice filled with disbelief.
“It was us or them.” Roan took her arm to lead her back to the cave.
She tried to shrug him off. “How do you know that?”
“Because they are goblins.”
Her lips trembled. It was another breath before she responded. “And so are you.”
Roan touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She didn’t move, frozen by his heartless touch.
“Not yet, Eliza.” He cupped her chin.
Her lips were sealed tight, but her eyes were fierce, challenging him to act and prove her right. Magic whipped through his body, raising the hair on the back of his neck. He should remind her who he was and what he could do. Replace her fight with fear. He was the Goblin King.
The man he still wanted to be let her go.
She stared up at him
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