I shrugged. “I guess so. At least, there was a month in between all the chaos. But I’ve never heard voices or seen figures before now, so I guess it must.”
“But you’re not hearing voices and hallucinating,” Diaval said. “It’s real, what you’re seeing.”
Real. It couldn’t be real. I didn’t think I could possibly stand it if it were real. “It’s not real,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Denial isn’t a very good look on you, you know,” she said. “Tell me, do you really think whatever is going on is simple nightmares and hallucinations? Because I know you don’t. Also, I know the difference between someone who’s losing their mind and someone going through psychical magical visions. I do have some experience in this. And you need support for it besides me. Which is why you need to tell Soren.”
“Soren was right. The longer you keep a secret, the harder it is to tell,” I said.
“Soren kept a secret for over a hundred years. You’ve kept this for a few months, I believe it’ll be easier to break,” Diaval said, a hint of snark in her voice.
I groaned and buried my head in my hands. There was a crippling feeling of failure in my chest that blossomed with sharp bursts of anxiety and pain. Shouldn’t I know what the Hel I was doing by now? It’d been nearly a year since the events of the Hunt, and I was still nowhere closer to discovering how to use the stag’s power actively or figuring out why I was seeing Lydian, why I heard his voice, and why my sleep was plagued with these apocalyptic nightmares. Sure, maybe I was born on the border of the Permafrost and the human world, and maybe it filled me with a type of magic that others couldn’t possess. Maybe that magic was why the original stag, the symbol of the Erlking, the great spirit of the Permafrost, could pass on its mantle to me after its original form had died. It didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t tell where the stag ended and I began, much less reach the part of my brain that kept the stag powers in check for me to use. It was like an entirely new sphere of my brain had shown itself behind a glass wall, but I couldn’t get through the glass to actually reach it.
“You have the ability to do so much, Janneke.” She placed a hand on my knee. “The power is in you; you need to understand it.”
“Well, it’s not my fault being the stag doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” I snapped, then immediately felt guilty. Diaval was only trying to help. “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated.”
Diaval didn’t look offended. We were close enough to deal with each other’s unique brand of harshness. I never would have believed I’d find others in the Permafrost that gave me the same sense of connection as people in the human realm had. Not to degrade Soren and Seppo, obviously, but I’d lived my human life with six other siblings, all female, and was privy to all the gossip and talk even if I could never be a part of it due to my restrictions. I always had to play rough with the men outside. And maybe Diaval was not particularly traditionally feminine, but she sure as Hel was close to that type of friend I longed for growing up.
Diaval rested back on her heels, looking toward the palace. By now, Soren would be in talks with the svartelves, discussing some type of statecraft or complaint, and if we were lucky they wouldn’t fight to the death or deliver some inane prophecy annoying enough for Soren to put a hole in the wall, only to make him angrier when they said they were kidding. It wasn’t hard to picture with Soren’s annoyance buzzing in my ears like an insect. I prayed to whichever god was listening that he managed to keep his temper. Not that I’d blame him for flipping out on them. I wasn’t sure how those creatures got to be so maddening, but by the gods, they made me want to tear my hair out. Even for the Permafrost, they were so … unnatural.
“You should ask Donnar,” Diaval said, eyebrows furrowing as she continued to look at the palace as if she could see inside it.
“I managed one meeting with Donnar, and I almost lost my wits. I don’t think I would survive going on Donnar’s idea of self-discovery again. Speaking to svartelves in general tends to make you want to pummel your brain into bits.”
“Svartelves know things, creepy little shits that they are. It might help.” She shrugged.
Yes, said the voice inside my head. Speak to him.
“Like I’m going to do anything you say,” I muttered under my breath. If Diaval heard me, she made no sign.
Instead, she turned her head around, looking at something over my shoulder. She breathed out heavily through her nose. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
She didn’t get to answer before the stampeding of hooves and shouting of men filled the courtyard. A dark brown horse galloped past us, her reins flowing free in the wind. Right after her came Seppo and Rosamund, both men shouting at the horse and each other at the top of their lungs.
I rolled my eyes. What kind of idiot doesn’t know you don’t chase or shout at a horse you’re trying to catch.
“Do you think we should help them?” Diaval asked, though she looked reluctant.
“I kinda want to watch this one,” I said.
And so we did. For twenty agonizing minutes, we watched as the two males tried everything to get the horse back under control. Everything, of course, besides walking up to it slowly and speaking in a soft voice. Once or twice Seppo dodged a pair of hooves, which was good since, goblin or not, I was pretty sure even the advanced healing ability they had wouldn’t fix a caved-in face. Rosamund’s red hair had fallen from its ponytail and his face was streaked with what I hoped was mud. He waved his arms, trying to herd the horse toward Seppo, who immediately dove out of the way as the animal continued running at him at full speed.
Diaval and I exchanged glances. “Males,” she said, like it explained everything.
Sighing, I got up before the horse could terrorize or be terrorized anymore. Reaching out with the flimsy, almost intangible power I possessed, I brushed softly against the horse’s mind. Calming thoughts, peaceful thoughts, fearless thoughts, I sent them all to the creature, breathing in and out as I felt its heart slow to match my pace. I walked toward it slowly, not looking it straight in the face like a predator would. One hand was outstretched as I got closer and closer until I touched the animal’s soft, velvety nose and grabbed the bridle there.
“Shh,” I hushed, rubbing the great beast’s neck. “It’s all right, it’s all right.”
Rose and Seppo approached me, thankfully slowly this time. “Thanks, Janneke.” Rose rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his embarrassment. “You shouldn’t have bothered. We would’ve caught her eventually.”
Diaval gave a delicate snort from where she stood behind him. “Yeah, you definitely had that situation well under control.”
With that, I smiled. Oh, how it was nice to be friends with someone who actually managed to use and understand sarcasm daily. Both Seppo and Rosamund stared at her confused for a moment before understanding dawned on their faces.
“Must you do that?” Rose asked.
“Sarcasm is literally the only thing currently keeping me sane, so yes,” Diaval replied.
Keeping a hand on the horse’s bridle, I turned to give the two men a questioning look. “Do I want to know why you not only managed to let a horse escape the stables but were running after it like two madmen? Or will it cause me to go prematurely gray?” The horse huffed, like it, too, wanted to know what was going on in these guys’ heads.
“Oh, okay so,” Seppo started, eyes flickering around to make sure the courtyard was still empty. It was. Despite the stones inlaid in the ground and a few of the Permafrost-hardy plants growing, the courtyard lacked most everything that had been in it during the time of the previous Erlking. Instead of plotting goblins lurking in the shadows, it was an open and silent place.
Well, except for when two silly goblins chased a horse into it.
“Well, you know, my mom is pregnant again so we thought—”
“What?” Diaval interrupted, her eyebrows shooting up to nearly her hairline. “Again?”
“That
’s what I said,” I commented.
Seppo glared at us. “Anyway, this horse got captured during a raid a little while back, and Rose and I’ve been trying to train it as a present.”
“I wasn’t aware newborns could ride horses,” Diaval said wryly.
“For when the kid is older,” he clarified. “I mean, if the kid ends up staying here. When it comes to halflings, there’s always like a quarter chance they end up fully human. In that case, she’ll probably drop the kid off on the doorstep of whoever its father is.”
Something struck me from our previous conversation. “You never did tell me how many siblings you had.”
Rose turned to his boyfriend. “Yeah, how many siblings do you have, anyway?”
“The ones currently alive and in the Permafrost that I personally know about?” Seppo said. “Maybe twenty-three. I’m sure there are some fully human ones and some who’ve died considering my mom’s age.”
“And here I thought having six older sisters was a lot.”
As fascinating as I find the conversation, you should really find Donnar. I gritted my teeth at Lydian’s voice in my head. I’d talk to Donnar on my own time. Lydian was probably pissed at hearing about all the kids Satu had with men that weren’t him. Ugh, the fact he tried to court her was disgusting.
Rude.
“Fuck off.”
The others looked at me for a moment. “Lydian again?” Rose asked.
“He’s still bothering you?” Seppo said.
“Does literally everyone but Soren know about this?” I groaned, feeling the urge to throw my hands in the air. And also maybe punch something.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Rose said, “considering how close you two are, but Soren is relatively … how do I put this … obtuse.”
“He lacks emotional intelligence,” Diaval added.
“You really need to spell things out for him,” Seppo piled on.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, already feeling a headache coming on. In that weird shadowy part of my brain, Soren’s feelings took over my own, and I watched as the annoyance grew to anger. Whatever was going on with the svartelves, he was not enjoying it. In fact … I pushed further into that part of my mind, trying to make out actual images instead of feelings. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate, before immediately snapping them open again.
“What is it?” Diaval asked, noticing the look of concern on my face.
“I need to go stop Soren from murdering Tibra. Look after the horse for me, will you?” I didn’t give her the chance to answer before I broke into a full sprint, hoping to get to the reception hall before Soren did actually murder someone and start a gods damned war.
2
THE MAN IN THE CAVES
A WAR WAS averted, but it was a close call. I got into the throne room in time to see Soren launch himself at Tibra. The female svartelf gave a high-pitched giggle and disappeared from sight, Soren crashing on the marble of the floor.
He pushed himself up, snarling. “Where did she go?”
Donnar was watching the incident with a slightly amused look on his face. “She probably is back in the caverns.”
“How?” Soren growled.
The svartelf gave a very dainty shrug for a creature who literally had no skin on his entire back half and shoulders. “Magic, most likely.”
Soren still had one of those I’m about to murder literally everybody looks on his face. I sighed and decided to step in.
Taking a look around, my eyebrows shot up to my hairline. There were a few cracks in the walls and the giant gash in the floor from where Soren challenged Lydian before the Hunt had grown wider. A few chairs were knocked over, and standing a bit behind Soren, I could see a very exasperated Satu.
“So, is anyone going to tell me what exactly happened here?” I asked.
Soren looked up at me, having the decency to at least act a little sheepish. “There was a fight.”
“I can see that.”
“Soren attacked my mate,” Donnar said.
There was a pregnant pause before I frowned. “I thought Tibra was your sister?”
Donnar shrugged once more. “Mate, sister, same thing.”
Soren and I glanced at each other, then to Satu, then back at each other. Even without the connection from the stag, Soren’s see what I mean was palpable. I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose to fight off the headache that was sure to come. Being the stag had its ups and downs. On one hand, I was one of the most powerful creatures in existence despite not knowing exactly how to tap into that power; on the other hand, I had to deal with svartelves.
No matter what creature you were in the Permafrost, there was one main consensus when it came to svartelves that could be summarized in a word: nope.
“Why exactly did you attack Tibra, Soren?” I asked. Honestly, even if it was something like an out-of-place comment on his appearance, I didn’t really begrudge Soren. I kind of wished I could pummel Tibra too. And Donnar. Really, any of them. Every time I met a svartelf, I left the meeting questioning my own sanity.
“She doesn’t understand the concept of inappropriate touching,” Soren explained. Before I had a chance to be outraged at the idea of Tibra touching Soren somewhere off-limits, he explained. “And by that, I mean she kept pulling on my braid. Like a child.”
“Well,” Donnar said, his tail twitching. “She is one.”
Mate, sister, and child? “Donnar, you’re really not helping,” I said. “I can’t believe I actually have to mediate this. Are you two children? Donnar, Tibra shouldn’t be pulling Soren’s hair. Soren, you cannot murder someone for pulling your hair.” I wanted to pull my hair. Turning away from the sheepish looking svartelf and goblin, I nodded a greeting to Satu.
The she-goblin had her arms crossed over her stomach, which thanks to Seppo’s comments, I now noticed was slightly swollen. Her dark eyes glittered, deep-set in her face. Despite the difference in color, I could see Seppo in them. Satu was broad where Seppo was slim, dark-skinned where Seppo was fair, and well-muscled where Seppo was slender, but the shape of their eyes were the same, the curve of their ears, and the pitch-black color of their hair. Like her son, she had a vine tattoo that spiraled from her neck to around one of her ears. There was something about her that pulled you in, maybe her smile and glittering eyes which managed to offset her otherwise serious features.
“Seppo told me you’re expecting,” I said.
She nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve added to my brood,” she joked. “Though being on Soren’s council is quite like looking after a toddler.”
“I heard that,” Soren muttered.
“The father is human,” she continued. “I’ve actually had a child with him before, but the boy was one of the rare ones to come out fully human. I don’t expect this one to be, though. I can feel it.”
I nodded. “Thanks for keeping everyone from killing each other.” I turned back to Soren and Donnar, who were still standing there, silently. “Shouldn’t you be leaving, Donnar?” I scanned the room. He was the only svartelf left.
“Alas,” he said. “I need to speak with you.” He glanced at Soren. “Alone.”
Great. Now I got to add half-mad ramblings from another madman to my day.
I resent that. I rarely ramble. It’d been maybe twenty minutes since Lydian had deigned to grace me with his presence, so of course, he’d reappear now. Odin’s Ravens, I wished there were a way to kill an already-dead person.
But no, Lydian’s ghost haunting my brain aside, part of my job as the stag meant speaking with the other residents of the Permafrost. Unlike my predecessor, I didn’t immediately know what was going on with every living thing, though I had a general feeling of the state of the world.
A rather negative one, that is. This time the voice in my head wasn’t Lydian’s but my own. Even so, I could feel his wordless agreement.
So, if Donnar needed to speak with me, then it was my duty as the stag to speak with him
or any other creature of the Permafrost who desired it. Svartelves may have been … well, svartelves, but they were still residents of the Permafrost, and I had a duty to them like any other creature.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s talk.”
Donnar looked at Satu and Soren, who still stood in the room. “I believe I did say alone.”
“It’s my throne room, technically,” Soren said, but without much malice. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Janneke?” he asked me. “Say the word, and I will gladly kick him across the Permafrost.”
I didn’t think I’d ever have a better mental picture in my life, but shook my head. “I’m sure.”
“All right,” Soren said. “You know I trust your judgment. We can catch up later about this morning, I think.”
My cheeks felt hot, and I hoped I wasn’t blushing as my mind flashed to some of the things that’d gone on before we’d had to officially start the day. “Of course.”
I must’ve been flushed because a wicked smile curled on Soren’s lips at the sight of me, and I continued to feel hot as he and Satu left the room.
Disgusting. Now that’s going to be in my head all day, Lydian commented.
“Considering you’re in my head all day, you can deal.”
The tapping of claws against marble made me turn. Donnar was still there and had seen me basically speak to myself. Shit. The empty throne room suddenly seemed cavernously big and too open, too vulnerable. I fought the urge to make sure my back was pressed to a wall.
Donnar, for his part, didn’t do much to help. One taloned foot clacked on the marble floor as he swished his tail back and forth. The movement reminded me of a cat right before it was about to pounce. He looked over the now-empty hall again before turning back to me, his pitch-black eyes staring a hole through my body.
“How long has he been with you?” Donnar asked.
“Soren and I ha—”
“No, no,” Donnar said, shaking his head. “The other one. In your head. How long has he been there?”
Goblin King Page 2
