Page 7

She watched dully as they passed through the famous gates flanked by huge warrior statues. The goblin mountain moved every generation, traveling random miles each time. Those who dwelled in the city laid waste to the neighbors as it entered new territory.

Goblins were superior in both magic and technology and had the wealth to support armies. Their generals trained from childhood in the art of war, and they were feared for their strength and ferocity.

She should have been frightened, but she was exhausted. She smelled sick, too. The poison had wrecked her, nearly killed her. Like everything else, her greedy family had botched that too, giving her far too much. They had wanted to be sure it worked.

The houses and shops were made of stone and had doorways carved with fantastical creatures. Goblins walked or rode on by, stopping occasionally to shop. It was cold and drizzly, making the stone streets shine.

The sheep drawn carriage was luxurious, with leather seats and plenty of fur blankets. There was even a ceramic foot warmer with coal inside, yet she was still chilled.

Julep looked at Artur, and braced herself. “How angry are you that I can't have children?”

He'd been watching her, observing her reactions to the city. Surprised, he raised a brow. “We don't need children. I have a couple of adopted children already. If you want to raise more, there are plenty of war orphans.”

She frowned. “You make children sound like a commodity. A grocery purchase.”

He grunted, recognizing the bitterness for what it was. “I should have done more than cut their noses off. I should have burned down their house, too.”

She paled. She'd overheard his men talking about the punishment of her evil family and had a predictably female reaction to that.

He wasn't the best at comforting women, but he instinctively patted her hand. He was a businessman; he could explain his position. “They tried to cheat me and they hurt you. They deserved their punishment.”

“I can't give you back what was stolen, but I can offer you my next best. It's a poor substitution, I know.” He struggled with the next bit, his face twisting. It was a distinctly un-goblin-like thing to say, but she was his wife. “It's okay to be sad.”

She peered at him. “That pained you, didn't it?”

“It really did,” he agreed.

She choked on a laugh. Her laugh was feeble and sad, but it was an improvement.

He studied her thoughtfully. Clearly this was a good approach at handling her moodiness. He would let her be sad and make her laugh when he could. With time this would probably fade.

A child would probably help, ideally a young one. He would see what he could do about that. But later, when she was ready. Timing would be everything, with something as delicate as this.

Her family's punishment wasn't just physical, but psychological warfare. Two of them had already committed suicide, unable to stand the disfigurement.

Creditors had already stripped away the borrowed goods and were in the process of selling off the family house. Her uncle’s creditors had broken his kneecaps as punishment. The family was terrorized, living in seclusion. They would never raise their heads in polite society again.

He kept that to himself, of course. His gentle wife would only fret over it, and she needed her energy to get well. Her family had done enough to her without making her sick with worry.

Julep touched the blue stone beads in her pocket.

They were pretty but worthless, a childhood keepsake.

She’d worn them to the wedding, as well as some simple silver bracelets and earrings.

Nothing too expensive; her uncle didn't want to waste money on her.

Steal it from her, yes, but not send it away with her.

She was still wearing the dress from the wedding. It was pure silk, and she might be able to get something for it if she could get it clean. At minimum, she could trade it for something less conspicuous, but what then?

Suddenly, she remembered Artur telling her that he had secured her sheep and cart. Her heartbeat quickened. Did he realize...?

He noticed her attention. “Yes?”

She didn't want to broach the subject directly, just in case. “I left without any money. I was thinking about gathering herbs...my father was an herbalist. He taught me.”

He raised his brows. “Are you ready to storm through the woods? You're not even steady on your feet, and you would need someone to protect you from predators... goblin and otherwise.”

She looked so crestfallen, he added, “But if you really understand medicine, I might have something for you to do. How are you at judging herbal quality?”

“I know the good from the bad,” she said warily. “Do you deal in medicine?” A horrible suspicion bloomed.

He looked at her steadily. “May I remind you that you found me half dead on the road. I'm not plotting against you.”

She deflated. “Of course.”

“It's better to be suspicious than too trusting,” he said agreeably. “I'm a merchant, and I trade in medicine, among other things. I also own several businesses, including one that makes herbal medicine.”

He looked at her steadily. “I want you to know that I take this marriage seriously. Goblins always keep their contracts. We don't divorce, but you're welcome to kill me if I become too annoying.”

She looked pained.

“I did ask you if you were sure,” he said apologetically.

She looked away.

“Also, I have plenty of money to support a wife. You may certainly work if you enjoy it, but it's not required.

“I would enjoy a companion. I think we can deal agreeably with each other. My personality is certainly lacking, but I am wealthy, so there's that. I promise to treat you well.

“As for you, you've already proven to be excellent wife material. Anyone who would take a half dead goblin from the ditch and spend her own money to take care of him...is more than I deserve. I'm certainly getting the better deal.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but was too tired to make much effort.

“We'll discuss it later. When you've rested and you don't look like yellow bones.”

Yellow bones, ugh! He wasn't wrong, though. She turned her face and looked out the window. One day at a time.