Other fae have been plundering the human race for mates. It was only a matter of time before a unicorn decided to take his due from among them,” he says slowly with relish. His grin is terrible, almost hungry, as he peers at me. “Isn’t that right?”
“Perceptive,” I mutter. “That still doesn’t explain your presence here.”
“Call it… curiosity. I decided to sniff out the matter. And I have to tell you that when I picked up your trail today, I found it interesting that your magic smells off—which can only mean you have found the rare ahandral,” he says. “So I decided to wait for you here, where your scent appears to be concentrated, rather than running all over this city. I am a patient male who knows that there are many who would enjoy getting their hands on a unicorn’s mare. They come along so infrequently and are so often unaware of just how much magic flows through their blood.”
I step toward him, my horn pulsing with a hot, acidic energy. It would take so little to assume my fetch form and destroy him… but I don’t. It’s clear that the goblin wants something or else he wouldn’t be here. He knows that I’m restraining myself, all because he has information. He would not be waiting on my arrival unless he was hoping to barter with it. He’s certainly not waiting around to challenge me. Few fae would be so foolish, and I don’t think a simple goblin of the deep woods would be one.
So what does he want?
My eyes narrow on him impatiently.
“I’m clearly aware. What I do not know is what you want from me. If you have information to sell, then name a price and be done with it. So far, I have not heard anything that I don’t already know.”
The goblin settles back in his chair, crossing his feet at the ankles. There’s a light of mischief in his emerald gaze, and I know then that he is in no hurry to tell me anything before he’s ready. I grit my teeth, wishing to drag the information from him, but it would do little good for the goblin folk who can translocate at will. He would merely pop into the liminal spaces that portals bridge and reappear safely out of my reach.
His grin widens as I debate with myself, possibly discerning the direction of my thoughts by what I assume is a murderous look on my face and the fists clenched helplessly at my side. The goblin lets out a long, deep laugh, and I notice for the first time that he’s clenching a red felt cap with a dark feather in its band. He’s not just any goblin. He’s a redcap, the most notorious tricksters and cutthroats among their kind.
I watch as he pretends to flick a speck of dirt from the brown sleeve of his tunic.
“Among my folk, it’s proper to discuss such thing over food and drink. Shall we enjoy an early dinner together and speak of pleasant things?” he cajoles.
“We will share a meal, but here are my terms,” I begrudgingly agree. “It will be room service so we can speak privately without being overheard. I will pay for the food to make sure that no one is cheated. And lastly, we will discuss whatever business you have to speak of as we eat.”
Grimsal chuckles with glee, slapping his cap on his head as he leaps to his feet.
“You have surprisingly little patience for an immortal, and far less than others of your kind I’ve run into—and are no fun at all at that—but I have to admire directness,” he says cheerfully. “Have it your way. I will not entertain you with stories of my escapades or females I have stolen nights with over the centuries.”
“I would rather you not,” I mutter as I lead him over to the elevator.
Throughout the entire elevator ride, he slants me knowing looks, his merriment practically spilling over. He is as excited as a spring foal, despite being an adult goblin in the prime of his life. Among the fae there are few beings as long lived as unicorns. Elves and fairies come close—and goblins. Of all of them, the goblins are so irreverent and carefree that, for the most part, his behavior isn’t all that unusual.
Biting back an annoyed sigh, I step out on my floor, hyperaware of the male strolling beside me. Rather than just a roughspun tunic, from the corner of my