Half an hour later, the trio passed beneath a set of smashed double doors bound in iron. The interior sconces were lit by cerulean flames. Three long tables framed three walls of the cavernous chamber. Surrounding each table were feasting creatures of all shapes and sizes. The beasties of the Sylvan Wyld. So engrossed were they in their meal that most of them did not pause to notice the three strangers standing at the destroyed entrance to what had undoubtedly been the castle’s Great Hall.
“Don’t look at what they are eating,” Arjun said softly.
Celine groaned. Above them, small winged sprites and pixies made of shattered ice danced throughout the space, chittering and waiting to steal scraps of food. Glasswing butterflies gathered on iron torches, their translucent bodies dipped in shining black ink.
“Those are poisonous,” Arjun warned. “Don’t touch them or let them land on you. The ichor on their bodies burns like the devil.” His attention caught on the figure seated at the head of the center table, a horned goblet in one hand, an iron crown atop his head, his red beard coated in small icicles.
“He looks as knowledgeable as any,” Arjun said over his shoulder to Bastien and Celine.
Celine chewed at the inside of her cheek. “Do you think he might wish us harm?”
“Without a doubt.” Bastien began walking toward the bearded man in the iron crown.
Arjun pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. “The presence of a blood drinker will likely provoke his wrath. Let me speak to him first.”
As they moved between the tables lining the chamber, whispers and growls trailed in their wake. A slithering, snakelike beast with wet hair and two voids for eyes glided into their path, pausing to glare up at them and lick its fangs. Many of the creatures slowed their feasting in order to peruse the newest arrivals.
If Arjun had to guess, they were deciding which of them to eat first. Dread coursed down his spine. If he could smell the frost and mint and magic of the Wyld on their skin, he would bet a barrelful of gold that they could smell the sunlight of the Vale on him and on Celine.
A beast with hairy ears and a mouthful of cracked teeth smacked its lips with gusto when Celine passed by. Another green-skinned hob and the white-haired phouka beside it glared at Bastien without blinking.
The man in the iron crown gestured for a horde of bat-eared goblins to fill his goblet and replenish the food on his plate, his black eyes fixed on Arjun. A blue goblin bearing an immense carafe of blood-colored wine hobbled toward him last, a pained expression on its face.
“What have you brought as a sacrifice?” he asked Arjun before Arjun could even open his mouth.
A fist clenched in Arjun’s stomach. He should have realized those in the Wyld still adhered to the old ways. Nevertheless he bowed low, his arms outstretched in a flourish. “What does the good lord desire?”
The bearded man sat up straight, the icicles along his chin chiming with the movement. It was then that Arjun realized he was addressing one of the fabled dwarfs of the mountain. His small stature and grizzled countenance gave him away.
Then the bearded dwarf king peered over his plate at the trio and began to laugh as if he’d been told a fantastic joke.
“You brought me nothing?” he barked, spittle flying from his lips. “You brought the King of Kur nothing?” He thrust his goblet into the face of the tiny blue goblin holding the carafe, who startled before refilling it at once. After draining its contents dry, the dwarf swiped his sleeve across his mouth, his amusement plain. “What about the girl?” he said after belching. “She looks fresh.”
“The girl is here as a guest, not as a gift,” Bastien said. When he spoke, the sound of his voice seemed to carry to the rafters, causing the glasswing butterflies to cease with their fluttering. A sudden hush descended on the crowd.
“And what have we here?” the king in the iron crown said. “Is that a . . .” He paused to take in a deep breath. “Is that a blood drinker on our doorstep?”
All the goblins beside him began to titter, the hob with the mouthful of jagged teeth cackling.
“Do you not know the rules, vampire?” the king said, and yanked a silver blade with an iron handle from the sheath at his belt.