Where There Be Humans

by Rebekah L. Purdy

  …

  When we arrived at the castle, a small crowd was gathered at the entrance. Frederik slowed the horse, then brought it to a halt. After he helped me down, we moved forward, and the crowd parted. People stared at us, eyes wide, whispers stirring in the air.

  Then I saw him. A familiar man with blondish hair, his face so intense the coldness seemed to seep from him and into my skin. His gaze fell on me, and he stormed toward me. I went still. Oh, Hag. I thought he was out of the country. How was he here?

  “There she is. The abomination,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” My mouth went dry as I recognized him. My uncle. The man responsible for my mother’s death.

  “Don’t play coy with me,” he snarled.

  “Uncle, what has gotten into you?” I said.

  Madness radiated from him like heat from a fire.

  “You have no right to call me that, monster.” His face contorted, and he snarled at me.

  Frederik pushed himself between us. “Sir, that is no way to talk to Lady Ivy.”

  When had my uncle returned, and why? My legs trembled beneath me, hands fisted at my sides. I needed to get out of here.

  Moments later, Margaret pushed through the crowd. Her eyes were wild, hands trembling. “Get away from her. You’ve got no right to treat our niece in this manner.”

  “She’s no niece of mine. She’s a beast.”

  He lunged at me, dagger in hand. Its point plunged into my skin, searing my side. I screamed in agony and fell to my knees. Hag, my glamour was slipping. He knew the pain would cause me to reveal myself. How did he know so much about our kind?

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrated, controlling my magic. But it wavered. Slowly, I watched the glittery sheets of glamour fall away, much like a curtain being drawn back.

  “What are you doing?” Frederik shouted.

  “Don’t you see it?” My uncle reached for me once more. “Look at her skin. Can’t you see the coloring’s off?”

  “She’s probably lost her coloring because she’s in pain,” Frederik said.

  My uncle then tugged my hair away from my ears. “That’s what she wants you to believe. But look at her ears—those aren’t normal. They’re pointed. And all these tattoos that line her skin—it’s not Christian. She’s a monster. Or at least half a monster. She bears the markings of a beast.”

  The crowd gasped, and when my lids fluttered open, I saw Frederik step away from me, a look of horror on his face.

  “You brought this into my house?” the earl erupted, pointing an accusing finger at my aunt.

  “No!” I shouted. “She didn’t know. I used glamour.”

  “She knew,” my uncle said.

  His foot crushed down on my hand. I cried out, trying to jerk away from him.

  “She knew a monster was born in our house.”

  Hatred formed a giant fist around me, and I raised my eyes to his. “What sickens you most, Uncle? The fact that my mother, your sister, fell in love with a goblin, then gave birth to one, or the fact that you murdered her because you couldn’t stand that she found love?”

  The color drained from his face, and his lips curved into a snarl.

  I shifted my gaze from him to Frederik, who glared at me from beside the earl.

  “You lied to me. You led me on.” He spat in my face. “Is this why you tried to convince me to free the goblin?”

  I managed a faint smile, then laughed. “Trust me, I didn’t enjoy a moment of it.”

  He reached for his blade, but his father intervened.

  “Take her to the dungeons at once,” the earl ordered. “Tomorrow, she and the other one will be made an example of.”

  Guards pulled me to my feet; my knife wound throbbed beneath their grasps as they dragged me through the crowd. I turned and stared into Uncle John’s dark gaze. He’d see to it that I was put to death. The same way he made sure Mother was taken care of.

  Pain shot through the spot between my shoulder blades. The Hag’s mark.

  The Mission was over.

  I’d failed.

  That could be the only reason for the pain. Had the Hag deserted me when I needed her most?

  Chapter Thirty

  As they dragged me down the stone stairs, my knees scraped across the hard surface. I thrashed to get away, but they held tight, and we continued our descent into the cold, musty innards of the dungeon.

  “Enough! Or I’ll beat some sense into you.” One of the guards jerked me upright again.

  I stumbled forward.

  A door groaned open, and they shoved me face-first into a cell. Then the door slammed shut, plunging me in darkness. I crawled to my feet. As I pressed my hand over the wound in my side, blood seeped through my fingers. It coated my hand, warm and slippery, the coppery tang making me panic. I grabbed hold of the bars.

  “Let me out!”

  “Ivy?” Dorian’s voice sounded from the cell next to mine.

  Tears trailed down my cheeks, and I slid down the wall, clutching my side. “Yeah.”

  “I smell blood. Are you okay?”

  No. I’d failed him. I’d never be okay with that.

  “I’m fine.” I wiped my face on my sleeve.

  Chains clinked together from inside his cell, letting me know he’d moved closer. Through the bars, a small glint of light showed. The lump in my throat grew as I took in his swollen face and the dark abrasions over what had once been perfect skin. Dirt clung to his matted hair, and the putrid scent of urine hung heavy in the air.

  With a groan, I shifted my body and crawled closer to him. Through the barrier, I clutched his hand in mine, bringing it to my lips.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” I cried.

  “Ivy, why are you in here? How did they find out…”

  “My uncle,” I said, the words seeped in bitterness. My head rested on the stone wall. I shut my eyes against the horror and shivered in the damp air. Then I told him about my mother, how she died the night I was born.

  His hand held tight to mine, reminding me he was there.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered when I finished talking. “I wish you could’ve known her.”

  “Me, too.” Hag knew how many times I’d pleaded to have a mother. Or know what she looked like. But knowing didn’t make it easier. Sucking in a deep breath, I decided to change the subject. “How long did you know we were siblings?”

  He sighed as if he had anticipated the question. “I only found out the night before the Mission. At first, I thought Father lied. But after he showed me letters exchanged between him and your mother, then with your aunt, I knew he spoke the truth.”

  “But you proposed the day you left?”

  “Father told me to, because the council was pushing for it. We knew that it would never come to be, but he wanted them to think they had the upper hand. So much more is going on than you know, Ivy,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “Some of the council is corrupt. Father has been trying to find out everyone involved.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “And I’m already betrothed to an elfin princess named Sashine. Only, the council doesn’t know. Father has tried to maintain peace between goblins and elves. This betrothal afforded him that opportunity. Not only will we help protect the elfin borders from other goblins, but they’ll allow us to travel safely through their lands for trading purposes.”

  “An elf?” I attempted not to laugh. “So when you hugged me in the Archives, you were already betrothed.”

  “Yes. But had you not been my sister, I would’ve chosen you.”

  This made me smile. “I always felt close to you. Even though you were the prince and I was just the daughter of a nobleman.”

  He released my hand, his fingers reaching through the bars to touch my cheek. �
�You, my sister, were never just a nobleman’s daughter.”

  “No, I suppose not. There are several goblins who’d call me much worse.”

  Silence stretched on for a moment, and then he spoke. “Did anyone accompany you to the human world? Anyone that might be able to get you out of here?”

  “Pudge and Grr. They’re at my aunt’s estate. We also have Beaurick, Perci, and Cray at the border. Not sure if they got my message, though.” My stomach clenched as my thoughts drifted to Pudge. There was no way to know whether or not he was safe. Maybe my uncle already took care of him.

  As if he sensed my fear, Dorian said, “I’m sure they’re fine. Pudge will know to lie low.”

  That was the problem. The old Pudge probably would’ve hidden, but the new one…there was no telling what he’d do. If something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.

  A door at the end of the corridor creaked open. Dorian and I released hands. Footsteps echoed like drum beats off the dungeon walls. Torchlight glinted through the bars, and then Frederik’s form filled the small window. Flinching, I backed farther into the cell.

  His face fell. “Ivy, I apologize for how I acted earlier. I was just startled. But I won’t let your uncle harm you. I still care for you.”

  A moment later, my cell opened, and Frederik came in. Gripping my arm gently, he dragged me into the light and brushed the hair from my face, studying my features. His hand traced my pointed ears, then pushed up my sleeves to examine my arms.

  “You still look human to me,” he said. “If it wasn’t for the pointed ears and slight green tinge to your skin, you’d pass for one of us.”

  I clenched my jaw, jerking my arm from his hand. “Let go,” I said.

  He frowned. “If you cooperate and act civil, I might be able to convince my father to allow me to keep you.”

  “Like a pet?” Disgust rolled over me. “I’m not an animal, Frederik. I’m half human and half goblin. And I don’t belong to anyone.”

  He jerked me closer. “Did you come here for it?” He pointed to Dorian.

  “Yes. He’s my brother.”

  “It can’t be your brother. It’s a monster.” Frederik’s face grew red, irritation flashing in his eyes. “But you’re not. You’re kind and beautiful. And when we kissed after the tournament, I felt something. You’re not one of them. You’re not a monster like that one,” he said again.

  “He’s not the one keeping me caged. So who’s the real monster?”

  Frederik pulled me against him. His lips captured mine; the taste of dandelion wine from lunch lingered on his tongue. Twisting in his grasp, I bit down on his lip, and he shouted in pain.

  Dorian threw himself into the bars, screaming. “Let her go!”

  “I can save her.” Frederik wiped his mouth, coming away with blood on his fingers. “Or if your people will pay a ransom for you, then I can convince my father to stay his hand a while longer. Did you bring the ransom with you?”

  If I said yes, would it free us, or would they take the gold and Hag’s Crest and kill us anyway?

  “No. I don’t have any ransom with me.”

  “But you could get it if we freed you?”

  “I don’t know, Frederik.”

  “Cooperate with me, Ivy. We could help each other out. You get the ransom for my father, and I’ll ask to keep you as my own.”

  “I’d rather die than live a life hidden behind doors as your mistress,” I snapped.

  “You don’t mean that.” Frederik’s face hardened, looking both hurt and angry at the same time.

  “Don’t I?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

  “Listen to me. I can have your uncle declared mad and still marry you.”

  “No.”

  “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.” He flung me toward the rear of my cell. “You’ll die just like your brother. I won’t be able to stop it.”

  The door slammed shut, and his footsteps retreated. Crying, I slumped to the cold, moist floor. Nothing was going as planned.

  “You should’ve gotten yourself out of here,” Dorian said. “You could’ve played the part for him, then ran away.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “I don’t want you risking your life for me.”

  I felt my way along the stones until I sat next to the bars once more. “Father sent me for you.”

  “Then Father’s a fool.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Hours ticked away slowly, the brisk air draping over me like a frozen blanket. I didn’t know if it was day or night. My hand stroked Dorian’s blood-crusted head; his forehead burned with fever, and his teeth chattered.

  Please hang in there. Hag, what am I supposed to do?

  I listened close, but there was no answer, just the rustling sound of rats scurrying down the corridor.

  “Ivy,” Dorian’s raspy voice whispered.

  “I’m right here.” I caressed his face.

  “You know what they plan on doing to us, don’t you?”

  “No.” But I imagined it wouldn’t be pretty.

  “Today, we’ll be on display for everyone to see.” His hand caught mine. “Then tomorrow, they plan to set us loose in the field and hunt us like animals.”

  My breath stuck in my throat. We’d be nothing more than trophies displayed in Hamden Castle. There had to be a way to stop it.

  Soon, voices filled the dungeon, and the locks to our cells were thrown open. Strong hands jerked me to my feet, and I saw Dorian hurled out of his cell as well. Guards dragged me across the floor and up the stairs until I was above ground.

  Tiny spots danced before my eyes, blinding me as I tried to adjust my vision to the sunlight. Crowds of people gathered around.

  “Kill them,” someone shouted.

  “Let me drive a stake through ’em,” another said.

  Eyes focused, they widened at the sight of all the men, women, and children who lined the walkway, spitting and taunting and yelling vulgar things. I twisted my head, watching as Dorian was pushed to the ground and kicked by his guards.

  “Stop.” I fought to get free. But they tightened their grips.

  “Best settle down, unless you want a beating, too,” one said in my ear.

  Something Archer once told me resonated in my mind. People fear what they don’t understand. Was that what this was? My uncle had ramped up their fear and hatred.

  A small scaffold at the center of the tournament grounds caught my eye. A set of stocks had been erected to put us on display and humiliate us. Bile burned my throat when I noticed the earl standing with my uncle and Frederik. Their faces were masked with pleasure, as if they couldn’t wait to kill us.

  “Bring them forward,” the earl said.

  We stopped at the bottom of the steps, and my guards shoved me to the ground, forcing me to bow. I curled my hands in the dirt, gripping rocks and whatever else I was able to reach. A guard kicked my leg, telling me to put my face to the ground and show obedience.

  With a hiss, I turned and glared, then flung the rocks at his face. Leaping to my feet, I tried to rush the earl. But beefy hands ripped my legs out from under me, and my head slammed into the wooden scaffold.

  My vision blurred, and dizziness swept over me. I clung to the fibers of reality, knowing if I fainted now, I’d not be able to defend myself.

  The earl gripped me by the front of my dress, thrusting me onto the scaffold next to him.

  “Tie her arms above her head,” he ordered. Rope burned my wrists, and I writhed in pain, the wound in my shoulder nearly dropping me.

  “You will show obedience like the dog you are,” he said.

  My gaze fell on the crowd, and then a crack snapped in the air behind me. The skin on my back burned when the whip came down. Agony took hold with each strike. But I refused to cry o
ut. To give the earl gratification.

  I clenched my teeth together as he lashed out again, the stinging of broken flesh wringing tears from my eyes. The humans chanted for the earl to whip me more, and I let my gaze fall to a figure at the back of the crowd.

  Pudge.

  His face twisted in horror, eyes blazing with a brutality I had never seen in my sixteen years. I watched as he reached to unsheathe his sword, but I mouthed the word no. And his hand stopped midair.

  I felt faint, and it took me a moment to realize the earl had stopped hitting me. Then I heard the crack of the weapon once more, and I cringed, turning to see my already weakened brother trying to endure his beating. A garbled scream fell from his dried, bloodied lips.

  My heart ached for him—for the pain he suffered. Could no one stop this? I stared about the courtyard. Behind Pudge, I noticed a dark cloaked figure. A pair of familiar black eyes met mine. Victor. He nodded at me an acknowledgment that he saw me, then disappeared in the direction of the dungeons. Had he gotten my message about his brother? If so, would he also help us?

  Dorian cried again, drawing my attention back to him. He writhed on the ground, his body convulsing.

  “And you call us monsters?” I shouted at the earl. “What have we done to you?”

  He didn’t answer but instead gave Dorian six more lashes.

  “Put them in the stocks. Let our village see we’ve caught the beasts that lurk in the darkness. Now, we’ll be safe again.”

  They untied my wrists and moved me to the wooden torture device. My head was shoved between the two wooden clasps, my wrists clamped on either side. Then they locked it in place, and the fabric of my dress rubbed against my wounds. Vision blurring, I wondered if I’d succumb to the pain. A part of me prayed for it. But I didn’t want to give them the pleasure.