Page 19
Story: The Robin on the Oak Throne (The Oak & Holly Cycle #2)
Kierse awoke to the tangy scent of blood. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal a bare room. Just a twin pallet on the ground and a hanging lightbulb.
“Don’t move,” Niamh insisted.
“What happened?” she groaned.
“You got a knife to the ribs. I’m currently healing you.”
“How?”
Niamh winked at her. “High Priestess, remember?”
“Oh,” she said as the groggy memory returned to her. She wasn’t in her apartment back in Dublin. Niamh hadn’t come to check on her. She was in the goblin market. And it had almost taken her life.
She winced at the pain in her side, but it was already much better than it had been. If Niamh hadn’t been here, would she have died?
Then she remembered the sound of Graves’s voice when he’d seen her injury. No. No, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t have left her for dead. He would have found a way.
“You’re awake,” Graves said as he entered the bare room. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone tried to kill me.”
“All in a day’s work.”
She blew out a harsh breath. “Going to try to not die anymore for a while.”
“That would be satisfactory.”
“What happened while I was out?”
“We’re at Vale’s…apartment,” Graves said, looking around at the four walls as if they offended him.
“He saved me.”
Graves nodded. His expression was carefully blank. Was he beating himself up because he’d let her get hurt? Or because he’d almost lost his prized thief?
“Does he have the information we need to find Rio?”
“Maybe we should end this fool’s errand.”
She glared at him. “I made it this far.”
“You almost died,” he snapped back. His calm evaporating for a moment. “Is your memory worth all of this?”
She’d asked herself the same question. Wondered if all of it was worth dying for. And no, she didn’t want to die.
“Aren’t you at all curious what happened to me?” she asked instead.
Niamh glanced back at Graves, then eyed Kierse consideringly. “Who do you know who can take memories?”
Graves’s gaze hardened. “It was the spell, which is nothing like my magic. It’s more likely a Druid.”
“You don’t know that!” Niamh fought back.
Kierse winced. “Can we bring the volume down on all of this? I still have internal bleeding. I don’t know who did this or why, and I need to know, okay? I don’t want to die for it. I just need answers.”
Graves sighed. “We’ll move out when Niamh gives you a clean bill of health.” He disappeared from the room, and Kierse knocked her head back against the pallet.
“He’s infuriating,” she muttered.
“Tell me about it. I’ve known him for like five hundred years, and he’s always been like this.”
Kierse turned her face to Niamh. “Even when he was young?”
“Especially so,” she said. “Now quiet and let me finish.”
It took another hour before Niamh agreed that Kierse could get up and move around.
She felt nearly 100 percent better. Still stiff, and she wasn’t going to be performing any big swinging motions anytime soon, but much better than she had been.
Niamh looked a little worse for wear, as if it had taken a lot out of her.
Kierse wanted to ask, but Niamh went into the kitchen to scrounge for something to replenish her.
Kierse found Graves and Vale seated at a card table.
Graves was engrossed in a book, clearly recharging his magic.
Vale, meanwhile, looked like a medieval cosplayer.
He had dark, shoulder-length hair and nearly black eyes in a pale face with a full beard and mustache, and he was wearing dark, fitted pants, a brown jerkin, and leather bracers.
A sword hung at his waist, and an actual bow and arrow rested in a corner.
In fact, the only decoration in the otherwise empty room was the sheer display of weaponry of every type.
A chest full of knives, maces, axes, throwing stars.
A wall of samurai swords. A dozen full-length spears.
A dented metal shield, two wooden crossbows, and what looked like an actual halberd. The guy clearly had a weapon fetish.
“You look hale,” Vale said with a head nod.
“Thank you for your help.”
“I was surprised Graves would ask for help,” Vale said. His smile lit up his face. “Though I can see why with such a beautiful woman at his side to protect.”
Graves glanced up at that. “She doesn’t need protection.”
“She was injured when I arrived.”
“She can take care of herself.”
Vale held up his hands in clear amusement. “Ah, she is spoken for, I see.”
“ I am right here, and I’m not spoken for.”
“Well, in that case, might I persuade you to stay in the market with me a little longer?” Vale said with a grin, rising to his feet and taking her hand to press a kiss to the back. “This is but my nearest safe house. There are jewels in my possession of which you have never seen the like.”
“Vale, cut the shit,” Graves said.
Kierse extracted her hand. “I’ll take the location of the bookkeeper.”
Vale didn’t look put out as he straightened. “If you insist. We should get moving, then.”
“Finally,” Graves said.
Niamh appeared then, looking decidedly more grounded. “I’m ready when you are.”
Vale led the way from his safe house and through the warren of buildings. He navigated the streets the way Kierse did the surface. New York was her home, and she knew it front and back. This seemed to be the same for Vale here in the market.
And he appeared well known enough that monsters shuffled out of his way when he approached. A good person to have on her side. She wondered what Graves had offered for his assistance.
It was another hour’s hike through the ever-darkening, winding streets before they came upon a door much the same as the first one in the Dublin quarter. This one said Rio, and beneath that, once again, beware of dog .
“So the dog survived,” Graves said.
Vale held his hand out to Graves, and they clasped forearms. “Until next time, my friend.”
“When I return to the city, I’ll complete our trade.”
“I know you’re good for it.”
Vale winked at Kierse, tipped his head at Niamh, and then loped off into the distance.
“What did you offer him?” Niamh asked.
“A set of armor,” Graves said.
“That tracks,” Kierse said. She glanced at the door with apprehension. “Think the bookkeeper is actually inside?”
“Let’s fucking hope so,” Graves said as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Unlike the first shop, this one was new and gleaming with polished hardwood floors.
Another damn bell jingled merrily overhead.
The shop had the appearance of a jewelry shop with long glass cases along three of the walls, except they were completely empty.
Not a single object or bobble in sight apart from an enormous, cracked-leather tome next to the cash register.
At the ring of the bell, a loud bark sounded from the back of the shop, separated from the entrance by swinging double doors. They nearly came off their hinges as the aforementioned dog rushed to meet the visitors.
“What the fuck is that?” Niamh yelled, jumping backward.
“Fuck!” Kierse screeched.
Graves didn’t move and sighed another insufferable sigh, as if the thing charging him wasn’t some sort of fucking demon. “Calm down. It’s a goblin hound,” he said.
Dog, or even hound , was a generous assessment.
The thing looked more lizard than mammal.
It had the characteristic green-gray skin tone of the goblins, elongated canines, and both pointed ears and tail.
It was roughly the size of a mastiff and could almost be considered cute if she looked at it sideways.
It jumped up onto Graves’s black suit coat, its tongue lolling out like a rather oversize labrador, panting with excitement.
“That’s a good boy,” Graves said.
“Daisy, down,” a voice called as a tall, thin goblin entered the shop from the back. They were dressed in black, fitted pants and a black vest. This must be the inimitable Rio. A hard goblin to locate.
The hound, Daisy , jumped off Graves and headed for Kierse and Niamh.
“Um, hi,” Kierse said, holding her hand out.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rio said. “He’s still a puppy, and their saliva is acidic until they can control the venom.”
Kierse jerked her hand back. “Uh…right.” That probably explained the giant, acid-eaten pit in the middle of the last shop.
“Daisy is a boy hound?” Niamh asked incredulously.
“Obviously,” they said. “He likes scratches behind his ears.”
She slowly reached for the back of his head and gave him a good scratch. Saliva dribbled out of his mouth, dropping with a sizzling hiss to the floor, before the hound collapsed at her feet, rolling around against her shoes.
“He’s…friendly,” Niamh offered.
“Unfortunately,” they said.
“Vriosa, I assume,” Graves said.
“Rio will do,” they corrected. They ran their long fingers down the front of their black pants. Daisy trotted along past them to merrily flop on a fluffy pink dog bed. Rio settled their hand on the massive brown leather book. “Do you know what it is that I do here in Nying Market?”
“You’re the bookkeeper,” Graves said. His eyes were fixed on the giant book. “You know where to acquire information.”
“You and I are the same in that regard, are we not?” Rio asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Tales of your time in the market have reached my ear. And what you paid is in here.” They patted their book. “Knowledge is power, after all.”
Graves clenched his jaw at their words. “I see.”
Kierse glanced between them, wondering what exactly was happening. Niamh leaned her hip against the counter and looked down at her nails. “What did he trade and trade for?”
Rio’s eyes jumped to Niamh. “I know what you traded for, too.”
Niamh shrugged. “So?”
Rio smirked at her before turning to Kierse. “What would you like to trade for?”
“I’m trying to regain my memories, and I was told that was something that could be done in here.”
Rio shrugged. “Sure. We don’t have any magic ourselves.” They snapped their fingers. “ Monsters not magic , and all that.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19 (Reading here)
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91