Page 11 of Deadly Little Games
“That’s not really much of an explanation.” But I took his hand.
He lifted me onto his horse a little more gracefully than before, now that I was prepared for it. Once I was situated and his arm was around my waist, he turned the horse to ride back toward the Citadel.
I leaned into his warmth as he nudged the horse into a trot, my thin sweater not quite enough against the damp air of the Bogs.
“I’m glad you took my warning more seriously,” his voice rumbled in my ear.
“Oh no, I’m not staying permanently. I just want to speak with Mistral about what happened.”
His arm flexed around me. “He won’t be able to entertain you until later this evening.”
“Why not?”
He leaned closer to my ear as the horse picked up speed down a hill, pressing me tightly against his chest. “That is for him to say, if he so chooses.”
I let it go. If I had to wait, then I would wait. I let Gabriel hold me tightly as the cool air pushed my hair back from my face. I wondered if goblins ran hotter than humans, because he radiated warmth. I also wondered if our skin would glow if I gripped onto his bare arm.
Eventually we neared the Citadel, but Gabriel veered off onto a different path.
I gripped his arm without thinking, then quickly released it. “Where are we going?”
“We have several hours to wait. I will show you around.”
Excitement tickled up my spine. I was curious about the rest of the Citadel, but assumed I would never get to explore it. Not if I wanted to keep myself out of a cookpot. Our horse galloped down the narrow dirt road, past abandoned ruins and a few distant towers. Some of the towers were lit up, but too far for me to make out much else. A hint of woodsmoke hit my nostrils, making my stomach growl.
“Will there be food where we’re going?”
He slowed the horse to a walk as I spotted lanterns in the distance. “You’re a bottomless pit.”
I was going to argue that I had skipped dinner to make it out to the Bogs more quickly, but then the village came into view over a rise and I shut my mouth.
It was different from the villages closer to the gates, where most of the homes were ramshackle and made of wood and other scraps. Here the homes were gray stone with lovely stained glass. Lights from within shone in a multitude of colors.
Gabriel guided our horse between the homes, stopping before a large tavern. The open double doors released the conversation and laughter emanating from within. The smell of baking bread and some sort of roasting meat made my mouth water.
Beyond the lights of the village I could see only trees and darkness. “Just how far do the Bogs go?”
Gabriel slipped down from the horse, then lifted the reins over its head to tie to a wooden post. “Many of our people came over during the shift. Our lands reach far beyond the border of the city.”
I looked around the glowing village, thinking of the elven palace. The shift had happened long before I was born, before the barriers existed. Celestials had shown peoples from other realms to this one. And in some cases, hundreds came across. But the magic of earth was different. They didn’t have enough to get back. That was how the myth of the Realm Breaker came about. Those who were trapped claimed a celestial used a sword to cut away the old paths.
Some of the oldest creatures still hated celestials because of it, but we didn’t see them often. They stayed deep within their own realms, which I was realizing were a lot larger than I could have imagined. And now… maybe they had been right. Maybe a celestialhadtrapped them all here.
Gabriel gripped my waist and lifted me down. I held onto his shoulders, meeting his eyes for a moment, but he quickly looked away. He released me to lead the way into the tavern.
I followed, hesitant at first, but I forgot about everything else as wonderful scents enveloped me.
Most of the goblins seated around the circular wooden tables looked more human like Gabriel, while a few others were more twisted with varying hues of skin and hair. Some of them eyed us curiously, but no one protested as we took an empty table and Gabriel gestured to the barkeep. The goblin came out from behind the bar, wiping a clean glass with a rag held in nimble purple fingers. His eyes were a darker shade of purple, and wary as he looked at Gabriel.
“Supper,” Gabriel said, “and two pints of wildflower mead.”
Seeming relieved, the goblin bowed and scurried away, his rough-spun brown shirt flaring out behind him.
I was content to let Gabriel brood while we waited for our meals, because there was plenty for me to look at. Light fixtures made of cut glass hung from the ceiling, casting a glittering display across the dimly lit room. I wasn’t sure if they burned oil, or if they were actually powered by electricity, which didn’t seem possible this deep in the Bogs. I thought it more likely that they were powered by magic, or something else of goblin design.
Our food arrived. It looked like the goblin version of pot-roast with steamed potatoes and carrots, and a dark brown gravy. It smelled delicious, though I doubted it was as good as Gabriel’s cooking.
I peered dubiously at the amber liquid in our glasses. If it was as strong as the alcohol I’d had with Mistral…