The Goblin's Crown

Chapter Forty Eight: A Fox in the Chicken Coop

"Yes, you probably should have." A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. "Do I need to worry about you sicing the guards on me?"

I watched her clutch the coins to her chest, tears streaming down her face, her pretty features twisted with grief and regret. She shook her head. "No," she said. "I fear it would do no good. The damage has already been done."

"I do thank you for all your kindness. The cost you've paid for it is immeasurable and I know that it's a debt that I can never repay." I slipped my things and helm into the cloak's magic pocket. I strode for the door, my footsteps loud due to my heavy, too-big boots. "Sorry for being such a bother," I muttered as I stood on her stoop and shut the thin door behind me.

"Hide me," I whispered to the cloak. Knut's magic swirled through the fabric at once, turning my flesh and bones translucent against the darkness of the night. I blinked, my feet frozen in place, as I took in the sights around me. Let it not be said that the Unseelie did not have good taste.

Oona's humble house stood just off of the main road that headed into a marketplace lined with lanterns that glowed with soft, blue light. The streets themselves were paved with smooth stones that shimmered like silvery fish scales beneath the lanterns' light. Overhead, fabric in a multitude of vibrant colors, sapphire, ruby, emerald, and amethyst, draped across the street above the peoples' heads and wove through the lowest tangle of vines, bearing strange symbols in their intricate patterns. Most beautiful of all though was the moon, a miniature copy of the real thing that hung in the sky above us. It glowed just as vividly, lighting the entire city from its perch atop a tall, flowing fountain made of shiny glass. I found myself wondering if I could sit on it. Its curved spine looked like a comfortable place to nap. My steps quickened by curiosity, I joined the throng of bodies flowing through the city like a continuous river.

As I gawked at the miniature moon, a group of faerie children, their wings still fluffy with downy baby feathers swooped through the air with teetering, unseasoned skill. They dove through the moon's crescent, racing each other round and round shouting gleefully. Behind them, a man chased, shouting angrily. When he caught them, he swatted them each on the backside, scolding them for neglecting chores. The man flew home with three pouting boys trailing behind him, rubbing their offended rears.

Covering my mouth with my hands and lowering my head beneath my hood, I did my best to stifle a bout of delighted laughter. Despite my best efforts, a farmer leading a cow to market beside me looked around in bewilderment, searching for the giggling's source.

Quickly, I moved on, weaving through the crowd, my steps hurried, my gate almost a merry skip. I'd forgotten just how much I loved the busyness of a city. The goblin city, though the goblins were high in number, never felt truly alive, just like the will-less goblins that called it home. The City of Thorns was different even from London. It didn't reak of piss and shit. Beggars and whores didn't line the streets. It was a utopia.

With each step I felt The City of Thorns' heart beat, pulsing with life beneath my toes. In the middle of the street, performers played low, sensual music while dancers clothed in thin, form fitting scraps of living cloth made from rainbow colored sky and frothy sea wiggled to the beat. The women twisted their bodies as if lost in ecstasy, their long, glossy hair whirling around them. Sharp canines glistened from wide, happy grins. Their feet pounded on the gold littered stones to the pounding beat of the musicians' drums. Chains of silver coins circled their ankles. With each footfall they sang, adding to the musicians' song as if they were living instruments. The delighted audience tossed coins before them until the silver stones were swallowed up by gold.

I stooped along the edge of the circle of onlookers, gathering coins into my pocket. I couldn't resist.

With every inhale, my lungs filled with the city's spice scented breath. I breathed it all in deeply. The aromas of cooking meat, fresh bread, and sugar mixed together into delicious smoke that wafted up from the vendor's stalls. My eyelashes fluttered in pleasure against my cheeks. My stomach rumbled eagerly, unsatisfied by Oona's plain porridge.