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“W hy don't you just marry her to her cousin? It would be so much easier.”

“We're not barbarians!” There was some muttering about inbreeding.

Julep heard the conversation through the locked door. With her ear pressed against the cool wood, she grimaced. Not barbarians, ha! Thieves and kidnappers were gentile, now? Typical.

Her father's family had snatched her from the inn. She's been distracted, but in her defense, she hadn't expected them to be out in the rain.

They took her to her Uncle Wex's house on the city outskirts and locked her in a room. Now they were in the main room, plotting what to do with her. They weren't even trying to be quiet.

Her uncle's cold voice said, “It's not as if she's going to get a chance to breed.”

She shivered. As she suspected. As soon as they got their hands on her money, they would kill her. They would probably arrange for an accident. It would be so very tragic.

She hadn't grown up around her extended family, but she'd heard stories.

The family had scattered after a goblin attack on their town.

Her father had grabbed her and her mother and fled.

They had ended up setting up camp miles away, by a stream.

Her father found gold in the stream, which he declared was divine intervention.

Eventually, they settled in another small town. He kept his new wealth quiet, but the relatives eventually found out. Her mother died from an infected tooth four years after they moved into town, and that was the beginning of the end.

Her father hadn't been as careful after his wife died; there hadn't seemed to be a point in hiding his wealth. He'd splurged a little on food and small luxuries, upgraded the house, that sort of thing.

His brother had come to visit, looking for a loan. He'd never bothered before. Her father had told Wex in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome. Hard words were exchanged.

Her father had died from a wasting disease two winters later.

Julep took precautions and let it be known that her father had made bad investments. She told people there was no money left and that she was lucky to hold on to the house.

Unfortunately, the relatives didn't believe her. Julep got word through a family friend that there might be trouble and decided to travel, hoping to elude them.

She'd practically given away the family home; chairs, rugs and pots included. After all, dead women didn't cook.

Unfortunately, she ran into an injured goblin on the way and made a costly decision. Now she was huddled on the cold floor, her ear pressed to the door as she listened to her family plotting.

She would do it again, she thought defiantly. She would never be like these people. Her father had taught her what was right, and she would live up to his expectations if it killed her.

She might run faster next time, though.

She closed her eyes. Everyone made mistakes. There would be a way out. She just had to look for an opportunity.

It helped that her family was stupid.

The family had cooked up a scheme to get control of her money.

They were going to market her on the marriage mart.

The goal was to find a husband for her who was as slimy as they were.

Through him, they planned to get control of the gold they believed was in the local goblin bank.

They knew her father had an account there, but didn't believe it when Julep told them the account had been emptied.

For some reason, they were convinced she was swimming in gold.

Her family had borrowed heavily from some nasty sorts. She'd heard them assuring each other this would pay off quickly and they didn't need to worry about broken knee caps. They were going to hold a party in a rented house where they would market her as an heiress.

The plan was stupid, but nobody cared about her opinions. She didn't know how they planned to force her future husband to hand the money over to them. Maybe they thought they could browbeat him? Blackmail him?

It would have to be blackmail, she decided. It was unlikely a grown man would let relatives nag him to give up a fortune.

Unfortunately, people who thought they were smart often wouldn't listen to actual smart people.

Their stupid plan was doomed. She just had to find a way to outwit them.

...

Artur spotted her across the crowded dance floor.

She was wearing a silk dress, her glorious brown curls twisted up in an elaborate hairdo with jeweled pins and flowers.

She had on too much makeup, however. Someone had tried to hide her freckles.

The effect was mask-like, and he wondered if it itched.

He’d learned she was twenty, and an alleged heiress. He wondered if the expensive jewelry was glass or rented, like the house.

The house was all columns and arches and big windows, about what you would expect for a wealthy family. The rent for one month was also enough to beggar her entire family, not to mention the servants, the wages and the cost of the booze. They couldn't afford to fail.

Twenty was old for an heiress to remain unmarried, but she was considered ugly by human standards. The large nose and deeply freckled face were not in fashion. She also spoke her mind, which made her unpopular.

His scouts had discovered all kinds of things in the week since he'd last seen her. Her family was going all out to sell her off. They weren't even being subtle about it. They've gone into debt to market her, all in an effort to get into her bank account.

He smiled. It was futile. They clearly had no idea how goblin banks worked and seemed generally uninformed.

Still, it probably made sense under ridiculous human laws.

Women generally had few rights outside of their father and husband's rule.

Everything they owned belonged to the male head of the family.

He'd used his business contacts to get an invitation to the party. He could have just kidnapped her back, but he had something else in mind.

He sipped his wine. Her father had the presence of mind to take out a contract on her with goblin assassins. If she disappeared or was murdered, assassins would come for the killers. Unfortunately, he did not put any specification in there against forced marriage.

A frumpy woman was glued to Julep’s side. Her aunt, if his intelligence was correct. She was playing jailor and chaperone. They were talking to several men, but a fat, loud man with jeweled buttons and lots of rings was in front. His bulging fish eyes looked at Julep as if he owned her.

Julep looked away, visibly bored and faintly repulsed, judging by the curl of her lip.

As the music began, Artur decided it was his cue.

“Hello, beautiful. Shall we dance?” He didn't wait for an answer, but led her to the dance floor.

The man she'd been talking to sputtered, “This is my dance!”

Artur gave him a warning look and then ignored the fat maggot. Small fish like that weren't worth his time.

Julep stared at him, astonished. “Artur? Is it really you? Your face is much less swollen.” Thankfully, it wasn't a complicated dance, for she wasn't much of a dancer. Not that she could have danced well in her ridiculous heeled shoes. Who designed those stupid women's fashions?

He turned her in a graceful twirl. “It turns out your medicine isn't lethal after all. You saved my pretty face,” he deadpanned. He was a goblin of course, and he would never actually be pretty. He made the large goblin nose and strong features look good, though, which was unusual for his kind.

She barked a laugh and then covered her mouth, looking around guiltily. “Sorry.”

He liked her laugh. It showed pretty white teeth, like a predator. “No need for that. I wanted to tell you that I have your sheep and cart. They're safe.”

“Oh! Thank you. That's kind of you.” She seemed amazed he had bothered.

Well, it was a pretty amazing thing for a goblin to do. Finders, keepers was more their style. “No trouble at all. I owe you.” He glanced casually around. “Feel free to call in the debt.” He added weight to the statement.

Her breath caught. She looked at him intently.

That's right sweetheart. That means what you think it does. Take me up on it. He smiled encouragingly.

She would be terrible at games of chance. He could read the furious calculation on her face, and knew what the furtive look around meant. They were being watched. The horrible fish-eyed man was gesturing at her angrily, complaining to her uncle, who was scowling. The dance would end soon.

“Marry me,” she blurted. She blushed, but didn't back down. “It will save my life. I'm trapped here. It's the only way to be free.”

He looked over her head, hiding his satisfaction. That was easy.

She mistook his action for rejection. She gripped his forearm. “You owe me,” she whispered desperately. She was clearly afraid he'd say no.

The music ended. He kept her on the dance floor, glaring a warning at her guardian/jailer. The woman hesitated, but whispered urgently to her husband.

Artur swept Julep into another dance. “You do realize that marriage is a contract? Goblins take these things seriously.”

“I don't care. It's worth it,” she said urgently.

“Think about it carefully,” he warned. “It's irrevocable.”

“I understand. I don't care.” Her eyes were wide with fear.

He doubted she was capable of understanding at that moment, but it wasn't in his interest to argue with her. “If you insist,” he said with satisfaction.

She wilted with relief. Rescue by goblin was unexpected, but she’d take it.

Better she sell herself then let her relatives pawn her off to any of the sleazy men they'd intended.

There was no doubt in her mind that being the wife of the goblin would be far preferable to marrying any of the men here.

Artur would probably have to bully them into it, though.

She couldn't imagine they’d be eager to marry her off to a goblin.

She didn’t expect her relatives to approve .

Her relatives didn't just approve, they were gleeful. They didn't even bother to hide it, falling all over Artur like he was a long lost relative.

She was mystified, watching them fawn over him. She looked at him more carefully, noting his finally tailored suit and the quality of his boots. He must be rich. Come to think of it, he wouldn't be here if he weren't.

What a strange thought. When they'd met, he'd been filthy and peeing blood. There'd been no indication that he had anything to his name but a pack of bruises. Her relatives would have driven on by and left him in the ditch, spitting on him for good measure.

At least she had hope now. Tomorrow she would marry him, and then they could leave. Even if she had to live in a goblin city, it would be worth it.

It was late. No one was in the next room. She was tired, nervous and cautiously hopeful. She lay in her bed, thinking about the future... and was woken when several of them came in, bearing a cup of poison.

...

Wex had sweated over the marriage contract. Just because he worked hard on it and made it wordy didn't mean it was good, of course, but no one could tell him that. Wex was in business and he knew how to wheel and deal. He knew what he was doing.

Besides, everyone read the contact over. All the adults agreed it was great. Group consensus made it so. Even if some of them were starting to have doubts, they were too afraid of him to say anything.

There was just one thing.

Human women didn't have very many rights, but if she had a son, he could take them to court. No one believed that the goblin would stand up for her rights, but what if her husband died? What if she had a brat who objected to an entailed inheritance?

He could have saved a lot of time if he had consulted a lawyer about his intentions; it never would've stood up in court. He'd grossly misunderstood the nature of entailments. Unfortunately, he was greedy and thought he was smart.

He found a sketchy doctor who swore that his potion would keep a woman from having any children. The potion was expensive enough, so of course it must be very good. The doctor said it might cause a woman some discomfort, but it wouldn't kill her...

So her uncle ordered a preemptive strike to make Julep infertile.