The Summons: A Goblin King Prequel (3 page)

Sirens cut through the night, slicing the quiet. She startled, the ill feeling in her stomach growing. Whatever magic she had unraveled tonight by calling on the Goblin King, it hadn’t finished unfolding. It reached out through the night as if looking for something. She ran inside and locked the door. Would the beer be enough of a thank you? Or would he demand something more in payment since he hadn’t taken her?

She crawled into bed, listening for the sound of beads chiming that would signal his arrival, half-hoping to see him once more, not sure what she would do if she did. She touched the bead, the only proof she had that she hadn’t dreamed him into existence.

Her eyes closed and she found herself in the impossibly bright field. No natural grass was this green. No sky was this blue. This was the Goblin King’s Summerland. Her stomach twisted in anticipation. She turned around, looking for him, only this time he wasn’t here. She was alone.

Jewel-colored butterflies flitted past in a spiraling dance. As lovely as this place was, it seemed empty. If this was her dream, shouldn’t she be able to control it? Eliza bit her lip.

Do not summon me again.

Was a dream considered a summons? And what would she do if he did show up here? Ask what it was like to be a goblin? Ask whether he thought about her as much as she thought about him? She shook her head. It was better not to risk it. He didn’t look like the forgiving type—not that she could remember exactly what he looked like.

All she had was a vague impression of thinly veiled power. His hand had been rough against hers, as if he were used to working…or swinging the sword that hung casually at his side. She bit her lip. Something about him didn’t fit with her mother’s stories. Why had he been cursed? If it was for a love of gold, shouldn’t he have demanded some from her? He hadn’t acted like the greedy monster she’d read about in the stories.

But if she’d learned anything from her trip to the Summerland, it was that things weren’t always what they seemed.

She lay down in the long grass to watch the butterflies dance. What was the point of all this beauty if no one could see it and she had no one to enjoy it with? This was becoming a boring dream. Her eyes grew heavy as the warmth crept into her and made her sleepy.

Sunlight streamed past her open curtains. Eliza squinted through the pounding tightening her skull. The amber bead on her bedside table shone in the sunlight as if lit from within. She blinked. It had really happened. All of it. She’d gotten drunk and summoned the Goblin King last night.

Eliza flipped back the blanket and ran over to her window. The box of beer was gone. Her breath caught in her throat. He’d been back.

***

Roan surveyed the gold piled from wall to wall in his gold room, the biggest cavern in the rock spire that passed as his castle. It glittered and gleamed with stolen treasure. Statues, crowns, a throne, and more coins than he cared to count were strewn across the floor. Today it was dull.

He flicked the cap off a beer and took a swig. Beer tasted so much better when he didn’t have to steal it. Not that he could drink much of it. Too many bottles and he’d forget to hold onto his soul with both hands.

“Celebrating?” Dai said in Deceangli as he looked up from his book. They used the language out of habit even though they spoke many more.

They’d spent so long together bound by the curse that they could sense when one departed the Shadowlands or arrived back from the Fixed Realm. Dai’s gaze travelled over the gold as if he were looking for a new addition.

“A gift from a summoner.” He gave his brother a bottle of beer so he could share in the celebration even if he didn’t understand the reason behind it.

“What did you do?” Dai’s eyebrows slashed down as if he was expecting Roan to suddenly fade to goblin.

Dai might be younger, but he was always the voice of caution, making sure he didn’t misstep and become goblin by accident.

“Nothing that would cause you concern, brother.” Yet he doubted Dai would approve of him breaking up the party with magic when he could have just scared the youth tormenting the young woman. It had been worth the price. A small piece of his soul to have her see him as man.

“Nothing that made you human.”

He wasn’t human, even though for a few shining moments he’d felt human…or what he thought being human should feel like. It had been so long he wasn’t sure he remembered.

“No.” He couldn’t have used her to save himself—he wasn’t that goblin. He stared at the gold. Its empty promise of satisfaction that never came. His life’s achievements could be measured by the ton, but it still amounted to nothing.

Roan hadn’t expected anything from her. He’d only gone back to make sure she was truly safe. As much as he’d like to see her again in the Summerland, he knew he couldn’t—no matter what she dreamed. From another realm he could feel her dreams sliding over his skin like silk. Not a summons. But she thought of him. Remembered him. Holding on to his soul didn’t seem so hard when he knew she was dreaming of him. He touched the dreadlock missing the bead and smiled. It was enough. It had to be enough because he was too goblin to resist the lure if it was constantly put in front of him, and she was a prize worth all the gold in his gold room.

“To summoners bearing gifts.” Roan raised a toast to the young woman. The bottles chinked, the hollowness echoing in the gold. There was nothing for him here. Nothing that could fill his heart and nothing that could heal his soul.

The memory of the young woman with the golden eyes stayed with him. The temptation to meet her in the Summerland lingered, but it was a false dream. Maybe it had been a mistake to take her there. But it was a mistake he would gladly make again to be seen as human and not the monster he’d become.

Roan downed the rest of the bottle in a long swallow, then let the glass crumble to dust in his fingers. Perhaps one more glimpse into her golden eyes would ease his pain. Or would it only make it worse—to know she could never be his? The thought caused him an anguish he couldn’t fathom. For her, he wanted a chance to live. She’d looked so alone and frightened, cowering from her stalker. What if she needed him? His chest ached in the hollow where his heart should have been. But he knew if she needed him, she would call for him and would willingly go to her side. Until then, he would bide his time and redouble his efforts to achieve the impossible:

A cure to the curse.