Chapter Five The Elfin Hill

Chapter Five

The Elfin Hill

Samara

You will wish it away .

As soon as those words left the Prince of Nightshade's lips, I ran. I had made one wish in my life, and it had only led to horror. I swore I would never make another, and I certainly wouldn't for someone else, no matter the debt I owed.

He would just have to hunt me.

Though he may not get the chance if my brothers found me first, which was more likely now that I had fled from the prince's side. Despite the threat, I was willing to give the forest a chance. I doubted it was any more threatening than the men in my life.

I kept running, weaving what I hoped was a confusing path through the forest. I tore buttons from my cloak and pieces from my dress, leaving them scattered along a path I quickly abandoned for a new direction. Once I felt safe enough, I would stop and devise a plan.

I had few options. I could not go home or anywhere near Gnat. There were other towns within the shadow of the Enchanted Forest I might be able to reach, but then there was still the matter of the debt I owed to the prince and the lengths the forest would go to see that I fulfill it. Even with all this, I'd rather try something— anything . Even if I died in the process, at least it would be under my control.

As I ran, I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was following, when suddenly, my foot dropped into a hole and I fell, striking my knees on moss-covered rocks. Everything hurt, even my hands, which I had used to catch myself. Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding me. Maybe the forest would swallow me whole.

I pulled my foot out from between the rocks. It hurt and was already swollen. I sat for a moment to catch my breath, my chest and ribs aching as I scanned my surroundings, realizing that what I'd thought was just a grassy hill was actually a slope covered in large boulders. Trees sprouted from between them, their branches like bony hands clawing at the air. They'd stopped growing long ago and now seemed to be frozen in time, covered in vibrant, green moss from which golden poppies grew.

It was beautiful, but the descent would be treacherous. I would have to change directions again, but as I got to my feet, there was a faint breeze. I had grown so hot from running, the sudden brush of cool air sent needlelike chills down my spine. Or perhaps it was not the wind so much as the music it carried. It was airy and soft, and I could barely hear it, but I couldn't let it go.

It was beckoning, and I wanted to follow it, which meant a descent through the labyrinth of boulders at my feet. The first step was the hardest and most painful. The second wasn't so bad, and by the third, I could manage the pain if I gritted my teeth hard enough.

There was no true path down, only a narrow space of rocky earth that was sometimes overgrown with moss or ferns. Farther downhill, the boulders towered, and while the path was smoother, it was overgrown with flora. I had no choice but to wade through vibrant poppies as they danced in clusters around my feet. I thought they might be swaying to the music, which was closer now and more distinct. A drum had joined the ensemble, and I took a step with each beat. Soon, the pain in my ankle receded, but my eyes had grown heavy, and I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to sleep.

I stumbled and fell, finding that the earth beneath me was cushioned, far softer than anything I'd ever slept on in my twenty-six years. I tried to rise, but my body was too heavy, and my arms shook with the effort.

"Sleep," I heard the flowers say, their voices like a soft hum, a lullaby cradling my body. "We will keep you safe."

I opened my eyes, and I swore the poppies grew taller, blocking out the sun and sky and the twisted branches of the ancient oaks above me until there was nothing but darkness, and I fell asleep believing them more than I believed Lore.

* * *

Something poked me.

I woke instantly, heart already racing as I pushed myself up and scrambled away, expecting to see my brothers standing over me, but as my vision cleared, I realized it was not my brothers who had touched me but a fairy.

She was small, no taller than the poppy stem she gripped between her small hands. She looked as though she were made from a tree, with skin like bark and hair like braided vines. A dryad, I realized. She wore a dress made of dark leaves and rosettes, and the entire thing seemed to shimmer like dew in the early morning light, except it was not early morning at all. It was dusk, and the sky had turned orange in color.

"Oh," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I am so sorry. I thought…you were someone else."

She stared at me with her large, mossy eyes and asked, "Are you going to the ball?"

I blinked, confused. "The ball?"

"There is a ball down at the old elfin hill," she said. "If you do not hurry, you will miss the dancing!"

"That sounds lovely," I said. "But I am afraid I was not invited."

"You do not have to be invited, silly!" she said. "Everyone may come! The old elf king has declared it so!"

I hesitated again. "I would disgrace him," I said, looking down at my tattered and worn dress. It was the only thing I'd worn the last ten years. I had mended it to the point that it was now mostly thread and not cloth at all. "I have only these rags to wear."

"Then we shall dress you," said the dryad.

"Please," I said. "I would not ask that of you."

I did not feel comfortable with the thought of accepting such a gift, especially from the fae. Lore had already taught me that nothing was done out of kindness. Everything was an exchange, and I wondered what a pretty new dress would cost.

"You didn't," she said. "I have offered. All I ask is that you come to the ball."

I considered the dryad's offer, half-afraid this was a trap.

"What does one do at a fae ball?" I asked.

"What an odd question!" she said. "Why, dance and sing and eat until dawn!"

At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled. I could not remember when I had eaten last. Plus, I had never been to a ball before, and it sounded far more fun than wandering through the Enchanted Forest in the dark.

"And…will I be able to leave?" I asked.

"Mortals are so contrary," said the dryad, her brows furrowing. "Of course you can leave."

If that was the case, then I saw no harm in attending.

"Then I will come to the ball with you," I said.

The dryad smiled, pleased, and then leapt into the air, her wings glittering as they trilled behind her. "Hurry then! You must follow me!"

I rose from the flowers with no pain in my ankle and paused to inspect it. There was no sign I had injured it, no swelling or bruising.

"What's the matter?" asked the dryad, hovering near. "We must be on our way!"

"I am only amazed," I said. "Before I fell asleep in the flowers, I had injured my foot."

"The poppies must have healed you," she said. "For that is what they do, either heal or kill."

She zipped away then, somersaulting through the air, and I followed, again falling into step with the music, which I now felt vibrating in my veins. Before long, we emerged from behind the final row of boulders where the forest was open and endless. When we stepped beneath those ancient and heavy limbs, hundreds of lights ignited within the trees.

"Oh," I said, breathless, awed by the beautiful display.

As I looked closer, I saw that there were hundreds of fairies in the branches, holding lanterns.

"We will carry the lanterns to the elfin hill," said the dryad. "Come, or we will be late!"

I followed her past many trees until we came to the largest one. It was bigger than any tree I had ever seen. Perhaps it was the oldest within the Enchanted Forest, though I doubted anyone could say for certain. Its branches were dense and heavy with many needles and red berries.

"Old Mother!" called the dryad, knocking on the trunk. "Old Mother! I have a mortal here in need of some clothes!"

It took me a moment to realize that the tree was moving. Suddenly, an arm broke free from the trunk and then a leg, and before long, an entire creature made of wood stood before me. She was about my height and had deep eyes, a wide nose, and a frowning mouth. Moss and mushrooms grew on her head and arms, trailing down her trunk.

"A mortal, you say?" asked Old Mother. She leaned in to look at me, creaking like long limbs in the wind, her empty eyes unblinking. "What a pretty, pale thing. Are you sure she is not a ghost?"

"I am not a ghost, Old Mother," I said, though my voice was quiet.

"No?" asked the old dryad. She lifted her limb-like hand to my chin, and I stiffened at her touch. "Your eyes say otherwise. Your eyes say you want to disappear."

I'm not sure why I blushed. Perhaps it was because she had seen to my soul. I did not know what to say, so I did not speak. Instead, I dropped my gaze.

"It is all right, pretty thing," she said. "Tonight, you will know what it is to be admired."

I started to protest. I did not need to be admired, but Old Mother stopped me.

"Ah, ah, ah," she said. "I will not hear it. You shall be the belle of the ball."

She reached behind her head, broke something off with a quick snap, and offered a walnut.

"Open," she instructed.

I looked at Old Mother and then at the nut. I did not want to insult her, so I took it, feeling strange as I bit into the woody shell and then pried it apart to reveal a bundle of white fabric. I pulled it out, dropping the shell, and found that it was a beautiful gown.

"Oh, Old Mother," I said, holding the dress to my chest. "I have never had anything so beautiful!"

"Put it on! Put it on!"

My eyes widened, and I glanced around.

"Behind my tree, pretty thing!" she said.

I hurried around the yew and found an opening in the bark that was just big enough for me to fit. A strange excitement went through me as I undressed. I had not had anything new in such a long time, much less something so beautiful.

As I slipped into the new dress, I was surprised by its softness and how perfectly it fit. The skirt was frilled but light and airy, like gossamer floating in the wind. Lace threaded with silver and garlands of pretty white roses dangled from the waist at different lengths. The bodice was corseted and cut like the top of a heart, embellished with the same lace and roses. The sleeves were nothing more than long ribbons of gauze fabric tied on my shoulders.

"Pretty thing, are you ready?" called the younger dryad.

"I…I cannot lace the back," I said.

"Come, pretty thing, and I will do it for you."

I stepped out from the cover of the tree to find the dryad hovering, wings beating fast.

"Turn around, pretty thing," she said and then pulled the laces of the corset tight. When she was finished, I turned to her, burying my hands in the skirt of my new dress. I did not think I'd be able to stop touching it.

"Oh, you are a vision," said the dryad. "Old Mother is never wrong! You shall be the belle of the ball!"

I smiled because I could not help it. I was going to a ball!

"Off with you now!" Old Mother said as we rounded her tree. "Off to the ball, pretty thing!"

The dryads descended from the canopy above, their lanterns flickering as they flew. I smiled at Old Mother and then followed the light. It was like running beneath the stars. As the dryads lit the way, they seemed to draw all manner of creatures from the dark—fairies with butterfly wings and brownies in strange hats, dwarves dressed in fine jewels. There were also nymphs, small ones and tall ones, some with wings and some without, some with white hair and some with brown.

One danced up to me, her arm laden with floral crowns, and placed one upon my head before twirling away. Another came up to me and took my hand in hers, giggling and smiling as she pulled me along. We skipped to the music, which was closer now than before, a soft but warm and rich sound that was deeper than bells but higher than drums. The melody was hypnotic, and my body was buzzing.

I had never been so happy, and I did not know what spurred it, the feeling of being included and seen or some other kind of magic.

The dryads parted in the air, forming two lines that looped and then tangled in the trees as we spilled into a meadow, already packed with all kinds of creatures and mortals alike. There were even more fairies and nymphs, some so small they flitted through the air like gnats, others taller than me. There were goblins with long teeth and sharp nails and trolls with tails, centaurs with hooved feet and long beards and fauns with short legs and horns. I had never seen so many creatures before, and there were even more I did not recognize, but they were all soon forgotten as I was pulled into a dance by the nymph who had taken my hand.

As we formed a circle, I looked at her, her eyes so bright, they were like glowing stars.

"I have never danced," I said.

"It is easy. Follow my lead!" she said and pulled me to left and right, skipping as she went. Our circle tightened, and the nymphs beside me raised my arms high, releasing them to clap and spin before we joined hands to do it all over again. By the third turn, I was moving with an ease I'd never felt before and smiling so wide my face hurt. I felt like I could dance forever, even as I grew breathless and hot beneath the dryads' glimmering lights.

The music continued, transforming into something far faster. The nymphs kept hold of my hands, our circle shrinking as a larger one formed around us. I was unprepared as I was jerked to the right, the fae beside me skipping quickly, and then suddenly, they released my hand to take a step and turn. I followed their lead and joined hands with a man, or I thought he was a man, except that his eyes were yellow and his irises black slits.

I held his gaze for a moment, unnerved by those strange eyes set within such a handsome face, until I found myself in the larger circle and pulled again to the right.

We continued like that, coming together and then apart, and I thought that I had never been happier, but as I moved to take another's hand, I realized the dancers were being watched, though that might not have bothered me if it wasn't for one set of eyes.

Lore.

Now that I was aware of him, I didn't know how I'd gone this long without feeling his gaze upon me. It was heavy and dark and… angry .

He sat stiffly at the end of a long banquet table, which was positioned beneath a hill that looked as if it had been propped up with grand posts, wound with green garlands. One of his hands rested on the table, gloved fingers tapping but not to the music. He was dressed differently, not in his leather and armor but in a silver tunic with sterling clasps. He was crowned with pale white branches, and his long, silky hair fell over his shoulders.

He was stunning but also terrifying, and the sight of him halted my steps, and then suddenly, no one was dancing, and everyone was staring at me and the Prince of Nightshade.

"My lady?" a voice asked.

It took me a moment to disengage from Lore's stare, a moment to prepare myself for what it would feel like to have his gaze burning up my body. Finally, I turned my head and met the pale yellow eyes of the man I'd first traded places with during the dance.

"Perhaps you would like to rest?" he asked. "Allow me to escort you."

He offered his hand, and I took it, not knowing what else to do. I did not think I could continue dancing now that I knew Lore was here and watching.

The stranger led me from the center of the meadow to a stack of stones that acted as a table and chairs. When I was seated, the music began again.

"Here you are, my lady," he said, handing me a large leaf with which I could fan myself, though I did not think it would help. My body wasn't hot from dancing anymore. This heat burned low and hot in the pit of my stomach.

"Thank you," I said, but the man did not seem to hear me, because he was waving over a servant carrying a tray upon which were a number of silver goblets. He took two and handed me one. I did not know what was in the cup, but I sipped it anyway and found that it was sweet.

The man did too and sat opposite me at the small round table.

"You are human," he said.

I hesitated. "Yes," I said. "Is it so obvious?"

"Only because you cannot dance," he said with a chuckle.

I blushed and took another sip of the sweet drink.

"Do not be embarrassed," he said. "I find it endearing."

I had never been called that before, and I found myself wondering if that was a good thing. It almost felt like being called naive, which I didn't like, though I knew it was true, especially when it came to survival in the Enchanted Forest.

"And you? Are you…human?" I asked, knowing he was not.

He held my gaze and smiled faintly before looking toward the dancers.

"My mother was human," he said. "My father was a goblin."

That explained his eyes.

"Are they still with you?" I asked.

"They died a very long time ago," he said.

It took me a moment to respond. I considered only saying I was sorry, but apologies were strange when the topic was death.

"Mine too," I said.

"Then we both know grief," he said.

I nodded, and we were quiet for a few moments.

"Tell me something about them," I said. "Your mother and father."

I couldn't place the look on the half goblin's face.

"Only if you want to, of course," I added, feeling silly.

"I want to," he said. Then he took a breath and looked away again. "My mother used to sing to me. She had a beautiful voice. Sometimes I think I can still hear her, but only when it is very quiet and the world is still."

"That is not often," I said.

He laughed. "No, not often at all."

"My mother liked to sing too," I said, and I could not help smiling as I remembered the sound. "She was terrible, but she loved it."

The half goblin laughed.

"Do you sing?" he asked.

My smile faded at his question. I did not expect it to be painful, to remind me that I had not sung since my mother died and that I had not felt happy enough to even try.

"I haven't in a long time," I said.

"You sound so lovely when you speak, I am certain you must when you sing."

"I am certain you are wrong, my lord," I said, growing uneasy beneath his praise. I looked away, regretting it instantly when I found Lore staring. He had not moved, and he still seemed angry.

The half goblin must have noticed how I stiffened and followed my gaze. He turned back to me, our eyes meeting.

"Do you know the Prince of Nightshade?" he asked.

"We are acquainted," I said, not wanting to disclose that I was in the prince's debt. "But I would not say I know him."

The half goblin studied me. I did not think he believed me.

"I am surprised he is here. He is not usually welcomed by the fae outside his kingdom."

My chest tightened. "Why?"

"They say he talks to himself and hears things no one else can."

"Is that all?" I asked, frowning. "It seems cruel to exclude him for something so…harmless."

"Is the way he looks at you harmless?"

I didn't know, though he had promised not to hurt me, so maybe it was.

"He is angry with me," I said.

"That is not anger," replied the half goblin.

Before I could ask what it was, a dwarf approached to whisper in his ear. The exchange was brief, but then he turned to me.

"I apologize," he said, rising. "I have been summoned away."

"Of course. Thank you for keeping me company."

"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand.

I hesitated for only a moment but accepted, his fingers clasping mine. He bent and brushed his lips across my skin.

"It was a pleasure," he said. There was an intensity to his gaze that made me blush, and I watched him as he retreated toward the banquet table, though it was not long before my gaze drifted to Lore again. This time, however, he was gone. My heart began to beat fast and my ears started to ring, but before I could scan the crowd for him, a voice interrupted my alarm.

"I hope you did not give him your name, wild one," said a familiar voice, though it startled me. I looked down to find Fox sitting stoically at my feet.

"He did not ask," I said. "But why should I not?"

"Names have power," said the fox. "You do not want to give away your power."

I frowned. Another thing that required an exchange.

"Why are you here, Fox?" I asked.

"I should ask you the same thing, wild one," he said.

"The dryads invited me," I said. "They said all were welcome."

The fox's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. "Did they tell you anything else, wild one?"

Dread crept into my chest at his question.

"That I could leave," I said.

"One thing you must learn about fae is that just because they cannot lie does not mean they tell the truth."

"I do not understand—"

"Perhaps you may leave," said the fox. "But only if you are engaged before sunrise."

"What?" I asked breathlessly, shock striking my heart.

"You are dressed as a maiden seeking a husband, clad in white and crowned. Someone here must ask for your hand. Otherwise, you will spend a year inside the elfin hill."

"That cannot be," I said.

"It is," said the fox, his gaze moving past me. "Though you may have no trouble leaving. It seems the goblin king has taken a liking to you."

"Goblin king?" I asked, peering over my shoulder to find the half goblin from earlier standing at the banquet table beside a very small elven man who was so wrinkled, he looked as though he'd melted on the stack of pillows beneath him. They were watching me.

I turned back to the fox. "You must help me," I said. "I do not want—"

My words died on my lips as someone approached, and I looked up to meet Lore's violet eyes.

"Wild one," he said.

I swallowed hard. Up close, he did not look so angry, but his eyes were still bright, burning like an ethereal fire.

"Prince," I said and slowly rose to my feet.

He offered his hand. "Dance with me."

I hesitated, uncertain, given what he wanted from me.

"Samara?" he said. The name was low, barely a whisper. It felt strangely like a spell, and I thought about what the fox had said, about names having power.

I gave Lore my hand, and he led me to the edge of the meadow. We stood apart and the distance felt strange.

"I do not know how to dance," I said.

"You seemed to know earlier," he replied. "Though if you find you are lost, look for me."

The music began, and he bowed his head. I looked about, finding that the ladies curtsied, so I did the same. We rose and circled each other, only to repeat the same move, our eyes never leaving the other.

"You ran," he said.

"I will not wish for you," I said.

I noticed his mouth tighten, but then we turned away from each other, moving in a wide loop until we came face-to-face again. He held out his hand, and I took it as we stepped together and apart.

"I am not asking you to speak it into the ether," he said.

"Then what are you asking?"

We paused as we made another loop around each other, but this time, Lore took another fae's hand while I dipped beneath their arms. I looked at the other dancers, feeling ridiculous as I danced this strange dance, but I remembered Lore's words and turned to him.

He took my hand again.

"I am asking you to accompany me on a quest to find the wishing tree upon which golden apples grow," he said. "When we find it, you must pick one and only take a bite to wish me free. It is that simple."

It sounded too wonderful to be true, which had been the case for everything in my life so far. The fae who had offered the knife, the prince who had offered for my hand.

"You cannot think I believe such a thing exists," I said.

"I cannot lie."

"Perhaps you cannot lie, but you do not have to tell the truth."

Lore's eyes narrowed. "Did the fox tell you that?"

I did not answer, but it was easy to avoid as we turned away from each other.

"I am telling you truthfully, the wishing tree exists," he said when we met again. "But its magic only works on the first night of the full moon."

I did not want to believe him, but he spoke with such sincerity, not only about the tree but also his curse. He seemed desperate to be free.

"That does not explain why I must make the wish."

"You must make the wish because I am unworthy," he said.

I stumbled, and Lore caught me. I righted myself, but he didn't let go, his hands braced on either side of my bare arms. It occurred to me that he had yet to take off his gloves. I considered asking him why—though embarrassingly, it was only because I wondered what his skin would feel like against mine. If his palms burned now, would they set me aflame uncovered?

But something he'd said disturbed me more.

"Who says you are unworthy?"

He stared down at me, brows lowered. I couldn't help watching his mouth and the way he frowned. I decided I did not like it, that I preferred when he smiled, even if the things that came out of his mouth were frustrating.

"No one must say it for it to be true," he said.

"Then it can just as easily be false," I said.

"It isn't," said Lore.

His words frustrated me, and I looked away. "I cannot imagine why you would choose me," I said. "If we are speaking of worthiness, then I—"

"Your brothers are wrong," Lore said, interrupting. "It is they who are unworthy. They who do not deserve you."

"Just because you believe that doesn't make it so," I said.

We had stopped dancing, but the fae still moved around us, and I became highly aware of our proximity and the way I had to tilt my head all the way back to hold his gaze. I did not want to feel the desire curling in the bottom of my stomach. I did not want to like how his hands felt on me. I did not want to think about how his lips would feel pressed against mine.

Except that I wanted all those things. I just didn't trust Lore enough to give them.

His gaze shifted to my mouth.

"It seems we are at an impasse, wild one," he said.

"It would seem so," I said.

Slowly, the elven lord lifted his hand, and I took a deep breath as his fingers brushed lightly over my cheek.

"Come with me," he whispered. "I will show you your worthiness."

I closed my eyes, unable to face him. I desperately wanted to believe him. His words were familiar, like those that had called to me in my sleep.

"Samara," he whispered again.

His lips were so close to mine, I could feel their heat. It rushed down my throat and warmed my chest. I held my breath, trying not to think about what it would be like to close the space between us, to press my lips to his, to tease this passion burning inside me.

And just when I was decided, a rapid clink broke us apart. I turned to find the dwarf from earlier tapping a spoon against a glass.

"His Majesty wishes to speak!" the dwarf declared, continuing to hit the goblet so hard, I thought it might break. Soon, he had drawn everyone's attention, and still the goblin king looked at me.

"Fae-kind," announced the old elf king. "The goblin king has chosen a bride!"

There was a mix of quiet murmuring and applause as everyone looked around in an attempt to guess who among them it would be.

I thought my heart might burst from my chest.

"It seems though that he is not alone," the old elf king said, drawing out the sound of every vowel in every word. "And another is vying for her hand."

A noise came from behind me that sounded a lot like a growl, then Lore stepped in front of me to block me from view.

"There is no competition," said Lore.

The goblin king stepped forward. "You know the rules, cursed prince. If you want to lay claim to my intended, then we must duel to the death."

I could not tell what I was more shocked by—that things had escalated to death so quickly or that these two were now arguing over who I belonged to.

"If you want to duel to the death, I am happy to oblige, but it will not be for this woman. She is already mine."

"Silence!" said the old elf king. "Intended, what say you? Which of these fae do you belong to?"

"Neither," I said, though I wondered if I had made a mistake, given what the fox had said about leaving betrothed tonight. "I belong to no one."

"If you belong to no one, then someone must take you," said the king.

"That is ridiculous," I said.

Another round of gasps, louder this time. I spoke over them.

"I am allowed more than two choices," I said.

"More than two? You want more than two men?" The old elf king's brows rose almost to his hairline, which had receded nearly to the middle of his head, though the crowd did not seem so opposed to that, their gasps morphing into more of an agreeable hum.

"I do not want anyone," I said.

"But you are wearing white," said the old elf king. "And you have apple blossoms in your hair."

I reached for the crown and pulled it off, tossing it to the ground.

The fae gasped, offended once again.

"What I wear says nothing about what I want," I said. At least I did not know it when I put on the dress or the floral crown.

Finally, there was silence after I spoke.

"I like you, mortal," said the old elf king. "If you will not choose a suitor, then you will reside here with me."

"Your Majesty—"

"You desired a third choice, and now you have it," said the old elf king. "Now, who will you choose?"

"This is obscene," said the fox. "This woman cannot choose between you three."

"And why not, Fox?" asked the old elf king. "Do you want to throw your hat in the ring?"

There were laughs, but they did not last long, for the fox spoke quickly.

"She cannot choose because she is in mourning, for her intended, a mortal prince, died this very day," said the fox. "It is only proper that she delay her choice for at least a year."

The fae muttered to one another, though I didn't catch what they were saying, hopeful that the fox's words had freed me from this terrible situation. Despite having accepted Prince Henry's proposal and my desire to kiss Lore, I did not want to marry. I wasn't sure I ever would.

"You make a good point, Fox," said the old elf king. "It is settled then. We shall delay for a year, at which point the maiden shall make her choice."

My relief dwindled.

With that, the music began again, and the revelry continued as if nothing had gone awry. I turned to Lore, who was scowling.

"Would I have been such a terrible choice?" he asked.

I was startled by his question but recovered quickly. "It has nothing to do with you," I said. "A true choice offers the option of freedom."

Lore's features softened.

"Apologies, wild one. It was all I could manage for you," said the fox as he trotted up.

"Do not apologize," I said. "I am grateful to you, Fox…but must I really return in a year?"

"Yes," he said. "You have entered into a bargain with the old elf king, and if you do not honor it, the forest will seek vengeance."

I frowned, feeling defeated, and looked at Lore. "Is the same true for debts?"

He studied me with a strange heat in his eyes. It reminded me of where we'd left off—too close and on the very edge of a great mistake.

I was glad I had not kissed him, or so I told myself as my eyes dropped to his lips.

"No one escapes what is owed," said Lore. "We all pay, with our time or with our life. There is nothing else."

I did not like his words, but that was not unusual. I disliked a lot of things that came out of his mouth, and I had only known him for a day.

"If that is the case, then I suppose we should be on our way," I said. "I would hate to waste more time."

I thought that Lore would be pleased that I had finally agreed to his demands, but his expression remained tense.

"My lady," said a voice.

I whirled to find the goblin king waiting.

Lore offered an unpleasant growl, which was growing far too common.

The half goblin ignored him, holding my gaze. "I respect your decision," he said. "Allow me to offer you a gift."

"Oh," I said. Again, I found myself in a situation I had never experienced before. It had been a long time since I'd been gifted anything that didn't turn out to be some sort of trick planned by my brothers.

The goblin king produced a small, black box that he opened to reveal a comb.

It was a fine piece of jewelry, made of gold and opal.

"May I?" he asked, taking it in hand.

I was very aware of Lore's gaze and also his anger, and I did not want to make it worse given that I now faced spending the next six days crossing the Enchanted Forest by his side.

"Allow me," I said, taking it from him and slipping it into my hair.

The goblin king's eyes were sad as he watched and then met my gaze. "Beautiful," he said. "Perhaps in a year, you will find your voice and sing for me."

"Perhaps," I said quietly, almost a whisper.

He smiled faintly before turning to leave, and I felt like I could breathe again, until I turned to Lore. His eyes focused intently on the comb in my hair.

"H-how does it look?" I asked.

"Terrible," he replied before he turned, stomping away into the darkness of the forest, leaving Fox and I behind.

"What did I do?" I asked, confused.

"Trust me when I say, wild one, absolutely nothing."