Another burnt chuckle. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
The goblin flashes a tight smile. The display of razored teeth sends me stumbling back, but he closes the gap in a blink, the smile dropping from his face, his fists clenched at his sides as if he can barely refrain from sinking those claw-tipped fingers into my flesh.
“Don’t run,” he grinds out. “Itoldyou not to run.”
A squeak bursts from my throat. “Yes, right before you told me you secretly wanted me to.”
“I do,” he says through gritted teeth, “but not here. It’ll ruin everything if you do it here. Because Iwillcome after you. I can’t help it.”
My lungs spasm, my breaths coming so quickly each one blurs into the next. My body shouts at me to spin on my heel andgo, but I clamp down on my willpower and hold myself in place. “Okay,” I force out. “I’m not running, then. I’m just…standing here. Standing in front of you.”
The goblin’s enormous chest heaves, his pulse flickering wildly in the hollow of his throat. For a moment, I’m certain he’ll cross the remaining inches. A threat burns in those yellow eyes—something hot and dark and ancient—and I canfeelus hurtling toward the inevitable. Toward the moment when those claws will close around me, those fangs break tenderflesh?—
But he pulls back, locking himself into stillness with visible effort.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, when he’s finally mastered himself. “Come with me right now. We’ll skip the formalities, the Claiming, all of it. I don’t care about the treaty if you’ll just let me have you. Let me wreck myself with that smell of yours. Wreckyou, over and over. Just come to the castle now, and I’ll belong to you, and you’ll belong to me, and that way, I can keep you from the Wildwood.”
For long moments, I simply stare, caught between terror and outrage, between the shriek trapped in my chest and the words scrabbling for purchase on my tongue.
“Belongto you?” I finally spit. “Never. I won’t belong to anyone but Ishanna.”
“It’ll be so much easier this way,” he continues, as if I haven’t even spoken. “Because once you go through with the Claiming, you’ll have to run the Wildwood. You’ll have to break the curse. Or try, at least.”
“Curse?” A creeping silence invades my mind. There are rumors of Amriel suffering from some dark magic—a battle scar left over from the war, a curse laid by no other than my great-great-grandmother herself. But the specifics have been lost to time, and I have no idea what this has to do withme. “You mean Amriel’s curse?”
“Yes, Amriel,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “Who else?”
A wave of relief crashes over me, so intense my knees almost buckle. I’m not talking to Amriel, then, but his guard. And under the terms of the treaty, the king’s Shadow holds no sway here.
“But you don’t want him to Claim you,” the goblin continues. “Trust me. It’s better for you to come with me now. If you don’t, he’ll make you run the Wildwood. And then I’ll end up…” Something tortured passes across his expression.
“What?” I prompt, when he fails to finish. “You’ll end up what?”
He doesn’t answer. His stare turns possessive, tinged with manic light. I swear that with his next breath, he’ll throw me over his shoulder and abscond with me.
Good goddess, how did I get myself into this mess? I should have bolted the moment every bird in this garden went silent.
I angle away, trying to open space between us,calculation flashing through my mind. Maybe if I run toward him—pasthim—it will catch him off-guard, enough that I can?—
“There you are,” someone says behind me.
The goblin jerks away, his trancelike focus broken. I chance a sidelong glance and find a delegate approaching—a fae man with dark brown skin, waist-length black locs, and eyes as pink as the clouds strewn across the sky. Filigreed beads glint in his hair, but unlike his brethren, he wears no armor. A wine-red velvet doublet strains across his chest, its cut extravagant, its sleeves alight with metallic embroidery.
I scan him, sourness gathering on my tongue. He looks rich and entitled and vain. Like he’s never repented for his immodesty, has never even considered it.
Thankfully, he ignores me, instead glowering at the goblin. “What’re you doing? The sun’s set, and everyone’s waiting.Amriel’swaiting.”
The goblin eases between me and the delegate, his teeth bared, as if he means to shield me. “Amriel’s free to start at any time.”
I lean around the goblin to find the newcomer countering with a frozen smile. In his fae form, his teeth look no different than mine, but that doesn’t stop menace from pouring off him in waves.
A shiver rolls through me. Ishanna’s blood, areallthe fae this threatening?
“You’re the king’s Shadow,” the delegate says coldly. “We can’t start without you, so come on. Let’s go.”
“No,” the goblin snaps. “I’m not finished here.”
