The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (31 page)

Flick, or maybe it was Frick, poured her a goblet of wine and held it forward for her to take. Meredith accepted the goblet, and gulped down a heavy drink, dribbling a splash of the purple liquid down her chin. She laughed self-consciously and wiped the wine from her chin before it could drip onto her gown, but neither Flick, nor Frick seemed to notice her disgrace.

It immediately began to warm her from the inside out, awakening a giddy, familiar feeling inside her that came with a whole host of expectations, but what those expectations were, she couldn’t even begin to understand.

The twins, Flick and Frick, kept her busy between them while the court feasted in joyous revelry.

It was both a comfort and a fright to be at the head of so many people, but midway through the dinner the eyes stopped turning toward her expectantly, and Meredith felt herself grow easy in her seat.

Frick and Flick entertained her with riddles and the occasional tidbit of courtly gossip, pointing out to her the Lord Wartemous, who had lately been cuckolded by his Lady Wrenfrood and her baseborn lover, a servant of the castle who was so low there was no need to even name him. Then there was Dame Barbose who had been widowed thrice and was under silent suspicion of the entire court, who believed she had a fondness and flair for poison when she didn’t get her way.

It seemed strange to her the appropriateness of the courtly setting among so savage a group of creatures. Surely not a one of them was human, even under their hideous masks, she thought, but if they weren’t human, what else would they be?

A momentary flash of memory moved through her. Hideous yellow eyes, clawing green hands, but the memory and the fear it stoked inside her was easily washed away by another swallow of wine when Flick filled her cup again and pushed it toward her lips.

The flickers of worry she felt grew fewer and further between with each swallow of wine, but from time to time she found her scattered, lazy mind drifting toward the prospect of her supposed betrothed. Why hadn't he met her himself? Would he even come at all, or would she be led to her wedding without having even glimpsed the man she was meant to marry? What if he was as hideous as the creatures surrounding her? What if he was cruel?

Lunette said he would certainly charm her, but Meredith couldn't imagine herself so easily charmed by a twisted mask of a face that barely resembled humanity at all.

A puppet show began beside the head table, and Meredith was easily roped into the silly, yet tawdry plot between a bulbous nosed puppet called Lord Pillbrick and a saucy chambermaid with vacant black eyes and bouncing brown braids. She found herself giggling behind her wine goblet at the suggestive nature of the plot, and was even further delighted when the puppet play ended and the court jester took center stage.

It distracted her from her worries for the moment, and she became so wrapped up in the humor and entertainment, she did not notice Frick and Flick's silent departure, or that the king had slid into place beside her.

 It wasn’t until she leaned back in her chair laughing and ready to share her knowledge of the punch line with Frick (or was it Flick?) that she started at the unfamiliar presence there beside her.

Before she could find the words to speak, the golden-masked figure leaned close and breathed his smooth yet subtly familiar voice against her ear. “It brings me great joy to find you delighted and so entertained here in my court.”

Meredith shrank to the left and away from the strange, lithe figure that had snuck in unnoticed beside her, although she was complete intrigued by the very notion of him there.

Imperially garbed in the most splendid shade of plum, he was lean, she noted, and very tall. His long legs stretched casually beneath the table and he leaned back in the chair to relax.

He was breathtaking to behold, his black hair falling in long wisps around the golden mask that framed his face. The mask he wore was polished perfectly so that each time she looked at his face she could see her own reflection gazing back at her in distorted fashion. The luscious curve of his pink mouth shown just below the sharp point of the mask’s nose, but other than his lips, the only true part of his face she could see where the two eyes staring out at her from behind the mask, blue as the coldest winter was one, and the other milk white the lid surrounding puckered by a scar. While the scar should have been hideous, it was intriguing and so was he.

"I know those eyes,” she realized thoughtfully.

The king’s mouth stretched into a slow grin. “And these eyes know you, perhaps even more intimately than you could ever dream, for I have watched after you ever long.”

The thought of him and his vague familiarity acted as both comfort and conflict in her heart.

How is it she recalled the memory of him, but it came with no implications or certainties. Then before she was able to stop herself from blurting out her own greatest weakness, Meredith said, “Perhaps you’ll think me crazy then, as I marvel the memory and know in my heart that we have met before.”

"Indeed, we have. Do you not remember me?" Kothar's grin was smug.

"I seem to have suffered some malady to the head, and have since forgotten all my past save for my own name.

"You don't say?" He shrank back in perfect horror, lowering the handle of his golden mask so as to reveal a perfectly piteous expression to her. “No memory at all?" He shook his head and turned his attention toward the jester juggling balls in the center of the room. "Is there anything at all I can do for you?"

Uncertain how to answer, Meredith shook her head, “I know not what to ask for at the moment, Sire, but believe me when I tell you I take great comfort in the familiarity of your gaze. I will gladly take up your offer once I’ve been made comfortable here.”

“Ah, the comfort of a husband for his bride-to-be is as it should be,” he nodded and reached out to take her hand inside his own.

“My vague recollection of you only seems to reaffirm the path I was on when I came to my senses.”

“I spoke briefly with your escort,” he told her. “It seems even he has suffered some memory loss in regards to your journey.”

“Is he still here then? My escort?”

“I believe he is,” Kothar nodded, his fingertip tapping the side of his chin as he thought. “Unless he’s run off, but last I knew he was resting in the servant’s quarters and trying to reclaim his own memories.”

“The poor creature,” she lamented, remembering how cruelly she had treated him on the last leg of their journey. “I was very harsh with him.”

“Fret not,” Kothar shook his head. “It is a servant’s place to suffer his master’s improprieties.”

Still feeling guilty, she looked away then and shrugged. “I suppose so.”

*****

Gorigast stood on the banks of the Nether Lake, the silver moonlight flickering from behind the clouds long enough to reflect off the water, dimming its inner starlight. He'd walked for miles along the shore searching for something, anything, but there was no sign of the Hunter.

He turned back around and was crawling toward the castle with a heavy, defeated heart. His feet dragged through the sand, leaving a ragged line behind him as he trudged. Head down, he didn't see the bits of wreckage that washed up on the shore while he'd been walking in the opposite direction until he tripped over a shattered plank of wood and skidded face first into the sand.

It figured to be just his luck, he thought, pushing himself up and slapping his hand in anger against the firm surface of the earth beneath him His eyes scanned the wreckage littered all around him. A glint of metal caught in a flash of moonlight, and he scrambled forward on hands and knees to retrieve the sack that held the shining treasure.

He recognized the sack right away. His lady queen carried on her journey through the Wald, and though it felt nearly empty—the contents having most likely spilled into the lake as their raft was tossed about by furious wave after wave—the shiny thing inside had sunk into the bottom of the sack when he picked it up. He opened it up to look inside.

Whatever it was shone dull flashes of gold and silver against the dark interior of the sack, and Gorigast reached a careful hand inside to retrieve it. He brought forth a beautiful mask unlike any he had ever seen, though he could tell from its design it was older than even he was. It pulsed with an ancient magic that warmed his fingers, spread into his wrists and up his arms, into his chest as though reaching for his heart.

It belonged to the lady. He wasn't sure how he knew, but with equal certainty he also knew he must get it back to her, and quickly.

He hesitated returning it into the dripping satchel because holding it in his hands made him feel warm and alive, but then he called to mind the kindness in her eyes. She had trusted him from the very moment they met, and with a twinge of guilt, Gorigast dropped the mask back into the sack.

"I'm coming, Majesty," he said, and pulled himself up from the wreckage on the shore.

His old legs ached from endless hours of walking, but the urgency of his task told him he must hurry. Despite the trembling agony of his bones and muscles, Gorigast began to run toward the castle.

*****

Kothar still held Meredith's hand inside his own, and she marveled at the softness of his palm and the tender, almost mindless stroke of his fingers as he spoke to her.

“All talk of servants aside, I would venture that I am most blessed to have you here after your strange ordeal.” Kothar still held her hand as he leaned inward to be near her when he said, “Do you know what they say?”

She looked to him with wide eyes, assuring him that she did not know what they said.

“Nothing can stand in the path of true love.” His casual grin sharpened the features of his face, and though she could see that it was genuine there was something about it that unsettled her.

“Is that the truth?”

“Well, it must be, considering all you endured on your journey here. To arrive after some unheard of trauma deprived of your memory, but just in time to take your wedding vows." Kothar looked deep into her eyes and she felt as though he was inside her mind and soul.

Meredith swallowed against the sudden lump of apprehension that rose against the back of her tongue and sighed. “Please forgive me, Sire, for my lack of enthusiasm. Surely our nuptials will be well celebrated, and I am to be the luckiest bride in the world, but alas in my tragedy I know not even your name.”

"Fret not, my love." He leaned closer.

She breathed him in, noticing that he smelled pleasant, like a rich spice she couldn't place her finger on.

“Such a trifle can be easily remedied, and none but you and I need never know the truth.” He came in so close that their shoulders pressed tight against one another when he whispered, “’Tis Kothar. My name is Kothar.”

“Kothar,” she said softly. “A handsome name for a handsome king.” It must have been the wine that made her so familiar and flirtatious, but recognizing her behavior made her blush.

Kothar took note of her conflicted discomfort and a delighted mischief glistened in his good eye. “I only hoped you might surpass familiarities with ease. I am pleased to find you warmed to the idea of our nuptials, as not every bride comes to her marriage bed so readily.”

She almost laughed, a nervous reaction to his outright mentioning of their marriage bed, in which she would find herself soon enough.

"And see," he leaned back, his arm lingering across the back of her chair. "Already I feel so comfortable in your company I forgot my manners and embarrassed you."

The wine loosened her tongue once more. "I can see I'm going to have my hands full with you, my king."

"You have no idea," and then he laughed. It was a slow, quiet sound that made her heart feel strange and cold inside her chest.

Meredith tried to ignore the rushing warmth to her face and dizziness swarming into her head. Focusing her attention on Flick and Frick, the twins took the stage to demonstrate their flare for fire in a death-defying show.

Kothar said nothing more, only lingered close at the edge of her chair, that arm still draped in casual possession as she watched the strange twins eat and breathe fire amidst flare of gasping oohs and ahhs.

Though she was watching the show, she could feel the king watching her and only her, and while she thought this should be a good sign, the sign of a fortunate and faithful marriage to come, the notion of it unsettled her greatly and from time to time she shifted in her seat for lack of comfort.

When the show broke, she pushed her chair away from the table and said, “Please excuse me for a moment, Sire. I feel a bit strange and would like some fresh air.”

“Of course, my lady.” Kothar rose from the table and gestured her toward the exit behind them. “Follow me into the garden.”

He led her through the double doors, and as the cool night air rushed against her face, it only increased the dizziness she felt.

The garden was dark, save for the light of a single flickering torch that cast an eerie glow upon the strange greenery that filled the space.

“Thank you,” she was grateful for his hand nestled firm against the small of her back. Worried she might faint, she leaned back against him for a moment before she reached out and rested a hand on the stonework that encased the garden. "I'm still not feeling quite myself."

"I can't begin to imagine what horrors you suffered, my dear one." The hand that touched her back lifted to brush a loose strand of hair from the side of her face. "Perhaps it would be best to end this party so you might rest."

"But you've gone to so much trouble," she said. "I couldn't possibly disappoint all of your guests."

"Our guests."

"Yes, our guests."

"They've all come tonight for you, and word is they have already grown very fond of you." Kothar lingered close behind her. "They've been waiting for you for a very long time."

Meredith didn't know what to say. Mostly because she was feeling overwhelmed, and just a little dizzy. "Perhaps I just need a moment alone to collect myself."