you find us?”
Lilac blinked, feeling dizzy all of the sudden. “I heard you first. Then, suddenly I could see you. Perhaps your ward is broken,” she offered feebly, hoping to derail him from her identity. Though her speaking to them made it obvious, it was a try. The poor git didn’t seem all there, to begin with.
“We have had the bewitched flint for a few years now. But, even then…” The korrigan’s deep brown eyes grew large as the moon. “You are human,” he gasped. “Yet, here you are speaking to us, just as I can speak to Ra’arak here.”
Lilac’s heart skipped a beat. They were far more intelligent than she’d given them credit for.
“I’m, erm…” She swallowed nervously, feeling six pairs of beady eyes burning into her forehead.
“The girl with the Darkling Tongue,” Ra’arak finally cried, his outstretched arms trembling.
A wave of hushed gasps arose from the korrigans around the fire. They scuttled over to gather behind Blitzrik and Ra’arak. The six of them formed a small crowd, cornering her against the tree trunk and whispering frenziedly.
She was trapped.
In one last, weak attempt, Lilac held her palms up. “No, no, I—I’m so sorry, you must have me terribly mistaken. I’m—”
“The girl with the Darkling Tongue,” Blitzrik repeated insistently.
“Princess Lilac,” the six murmured together like an awestruck choir. “Trécesson.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. She couldn’t do anything but shake her head in protest. She was done for. They would knock her unconscious with their clubs, or—her eyes darted frantically around the campsite—with their sheepskin drums and harp. Surely their miniature knives were hidden somewhere, perhaps in their ratty clothes. They’d maim her, cut her body into small pieces and roast her limbs over that gigantic fire. Then, they’d devour her like a tender pork rib.
She was the prodigal daughter of the very monarch who had set Henri’s Law into motion to oppress Darklings and revoke what few freedoms they’d had left. Why not kill and eat her?
She looked down, half expecting knife tips bristling in her direction. Instead, Blitzrik and Ra’arak had fallen to their knees at her feet. The korrigans behind them followed suit and kneeled, heads bent.
“Finally, Your Royal Highness. You’re here to help us,” Blitzrik announced in his baritone.
“Quick, you must fetch her something to drink,” he directed at Ra’arak next to him, nudging his elbow back to the campsite while maintaining a bowed head. “Your Royal Highness, what’ll it be? Water? Tea? Warm water?”
Lilac could only stare petrified with disbelief. She was stuck against her tree. The dagger and the rest of her belongings seemed so far away.
“Tea it is,” he rumbled. As if on cue, the korrigans raised their heads, remaining on their knees except for Ra’arak, who rose to his pudgy feet and scurried into the nearest tent.
Lilac cleared her throat awkwardly while glancing down upon the peculiar, grey-skinned creatures. As the bards had in the tavern, they wore some semblance of tattered human shirts, previously white or cream linen and now a grungy brown. Each donned a little red hat knitted to their size and at least appeared to be male, though she wasn’t at all positive. Back at the tavern she hadn’t gotten a close enough look; their faces were human-like but totally disproportionate, especially in their noses and puffed lips, which made them look like they’d been stung by wasps.
She wrung her hands, finally mustering the courage to speak. “I appreciate the kind gesture, but you needn’t kneel. Truly.”
The korrigans nodded in agreement but remained on the floor.
“We’ve been waiting for this day, Your Royal Highness,” Blitzrik said. “We knew you were different.”
“Different?”
“Yes, m’lady. Different from the king and queen. From everyone else. You can speak to us, and we to you. We thought it might have been a legend, the girl who speaks to creatures. To us. I thought it might’ve been a sick joke of some kind. But here you are.” He extended his shaking hand. “Here you are.”
A sick joke indeed. Lilac cleared her throat again, at a loss for words. She placed her gigantic palm in Blitzrik’s smaller one and forced a polite smile as he briefly pressed the back of her hand to his calloused lips. Her insides crawled. She glanced up at the small crowd; the rest of the korrigans grinned back nervously. Two of them whispered to each other.
“Her hair—what happened to her long, luscious hair?”
“Shh. Goodness, she’s more beautiful up close.”
“You’ve never even seen her before,” the first korrigan