of a roof, a curl of smoke. But if she tried to see the house itself, or see more of it, all traces disappeared. The fog around her seemed to thicken. She stopped looking around and concentrated on following the map in her head.
Eventually, she came to a street sign. Candlewick Court. She peered through the trees where the road bent. Mist rose off the pavement, making it hard to see the place that would be her home for the next year.
Then a breeze caused a break in the fog, and she got a better look. The house that lay beyond was every inch goblin royalty. The deep-purple roof, curved gray stone walls, and embedded gems were all reminiscent of Fangmore. The palace he’d left behind.
Right down to the skulls worked into the accents.
It was a good reminder that while she was here to fulfill a debt, she needed to keep her wits about her. The king was exiled, not powerless. He was still a ferocious warrior. He hadn’t become king of the goblins because it was his birthright. He’d earned it in battle, just as every other goblin king had. In his case, by single-handedly capturing the orc king.
She’d do well to remember that. She started walking up the long, curving drive. He’d do well to remember she was also a goblin. Half, yes, but that half was just as fierce as could be, and as far as he would know, she was a hundred percent goblin. She would not be mistreated while she was here. Nor would she sacrifice her personal security.
If the exiled king thought she’d be his new plaything and warm his bed during her tenure, he’d soon discover just how wrong he was.
She took a deep breath as she climbed the stairs to the wide front doors. The stair risers were skulls, all facing out. The door handles were metal cast to look like bones. A mosaic of amethysts, iolites, and a mix of other gems decorated the sides of the doors, letting in some light, but allowing no one to see in.
The entrance was beautiful and creepy. The true goblin aesthetic. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she made contact.
The goblin who answered was not the king, but based on his livery, she had a pretty good idea of who he was. Elswood Hardencourt. The only member of the royal staff who’d left with the king. That much she remembered from her history.
His appraising glance raked over her. “Who are you?”
He had to know she was a citizen of the realm. Her pointed ears and the iridescent sheen of her black hair gave that away. They matched his own. Although her hair was lacking the abundant streaks of silver threaded through his. And his hair, perhaps as a concession to living in the human world, was too short for the traditional braids.
She made herself answer as pleasantly as possible. “I am Theodora Middlebright. I’ve come to fulfill the debt owed by my father to His Royal Highness Robin Gallow.”
She dug into her jacket and took out the hard leather tube that housed the official indenture document. She handed it to him. “It’s all there.”
He removed the scroll, unfurling it. He scanned the binding document. The map on the back had disappeared. Perhaps because she’d arrived?
She knew each word of the indenture by heart, but the gist was her father had lost a game of slip one night in the palace kitchens. Out of money, he’d foolishly wagered a year of his life in service to the cunning card player across from him, a young man all had thought to be the butcher’s well-to-do cousin.
A young man who’d turned out to be the newly crowned king.
Elswood looked up at her. “This debt is owed by Welten Middlebright.”
“Yes, that’s my father. The arrangement allows for a substitution so long as it’s for the better.” When Elswood still hesitated, she frowned, struggling not to snap at the man for failing to recognize the former king was getting a superior deal with her serving in her father’s place. “Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to let the former king know I’m here?”
Elswood’s gaze narrowed to seemingly focus on the little magical clock embedded in the heart of the document. She could see the numbers ticking down through the parchment, although they were backward to her. They’d turned from green to red three days ago, a warning that