a storyteller. I am a traveler. I am an anomaly.”
“I’ve made my choice,” Oberon said, but Corin spoke over him.
“I am a man out of time,” he said. “And I bring a tale you’ve been waiting for.”
Silence fell within the strange cathedral. All the courtiers watched to see how their king might discipline the impudent manling. Avery looked curious, too. Maurelle and Kellen trembled. Corin only watched the king.
Oberon leaned back, lounging in his throne. He feigned another yawn, then shrugged one shoulder.
“Tell your tale, little man. If I do not enjoy it, I’ll feed your entrails to my dogs.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Once upon a time,” Corin said, “there was a man named Corin Hugh. Corin was a peasant, born in Aepoli beneath the reign of Cosimo Vestossi, and in his time the name of Oberon was not known. In his time, Ephitel was thought a god among the manling nations.”
A shock rolled through the listening crowd at that, but Oberon silenced them with a raised hand. “Tread with care, manling.”
Corin swallowed hard, but he pressed on. He told the tale of how he’d found the ancient map, how he’d studied long-forgotten legends to find the final resting place of bright Gesoelig. And when he came to the end of the story, when he told Oberon how Ethan Blake had betrayed him, he bent the truth.
“Blake was my second-in-command,” Corin said, “whom I’d long esteemed. Whom I even had suspected, but whom I never thought would strike me down so boldly. He gathered rumors and traded in promises. He cast away my loyal followers and belittled those who would have stood for me. He waged a private war against my trusted advisors, including the desert rose Iryana. I should have worked harder to protect her…”
Corin trailed off, an unexpected lump hard in his throat. He whispered, “Iryana…”
And above him, the monstrous king whispered, “Sweet Aemilia…”
Corin’s head shot up. The king saw the parallel! Corin cleared his throat. “Aye, my lord. For all his noble blood, my second-in-command was the blackest of villains I have ever known. He found a hoard of dwarven powder and made a weapon of it. He struck a spark, and the explosion sent the ancient city up in flames. The traitors slipped away, but I was left marooned within the cave. And when the fires overtook me—”
Oberon sprang forward in his seat. “Yes?”
Corin shrugged. “I woke up in this world.”
The king cheered and raised a great applause, and all the court followed his lead. Corin swept a gracious bow, but he was otherwise unmoved. He held his place and held his gaze upon the king.
When the applause died down, Oberon, still chortling, cried out, “Well told! Well told! A well-imagined farce. I’ll hang a silver bracelet from your wrist as your reward.”
Corin stood his ground. “That is not the favor I would ask.”
“Ah! Indeed. For you were injured in the struggle with your treacherous lieutenant. I see the handiwork of my faithful druids on your hoof there, but I know better tricks than theirs.”
He snapped his fingers, and a shock of perfect agony stabbed through Corin’s damaged ankle. Corin screamed, collapsing to the ground and wrapping himself tight around the pain. But before he’d even finished falling, the pain was gone. Inside the strange boot, Corin’s foot was whole again.
Corin knelt there, gasping for his breath, and Oberon nodded beneficently. “Have this gift, and I will still offer you that bracelet—”
“No!” Corin gasped. “I need more.”
“What else could you want of me? Half my kingdom?”
“None of it,” Corin said. “I want you to send me home.”
The laughter fled from Oberon’s face. His brows came crashing down. “The tale-telling time is done.”
Corin pressed closer, speaking just for Oberon. “It is no farce. I am not where I should be. Please send me home.”
Oberon answered just as quietly. “You ask a sleeping man to change his dreams. What control have I?”
“You are Oberon.” It was answer enough.
The king straightened in his throne. His gaze flicked out to the audience and he gave them another chortle. “Let it not be said—never in my court—that a manling played at farces better than King Oberon. Let us all pretend your tale is true. Let us all pretend there was an honest thief named Corin Hugh. Let us all pretend the fires of a dead Gesoelig brought him to my kingdom. How could I even know that you are he?”
Corin floundered. “I…well…you have heard the tale I told. Could anyone but Corin Hugh have