The Goblin's Crown

Chapter Fifty Two: Welcome

  This was it. Months of plotting had culminated to these final moments and whether I would succeed or fail at seizing The City of Thorns rested on how things played out on the other side of this one door. I fidgeted nervously with the strings that held my magic cloak closed. Beneath my grazing fingers, blood pumped through a frantic heart.

"Are you ready?" I asked Knut in my mind, wondering how he was feeling as my belly churned and tightened. I wasn't entirely sure if I was.

"Lady Matilda?" Finn was staring at me with a look of worry, his brows furrowed over his light eyes. The flames of the torch brought warmth to his skin, banishing the gray, blue tones and giving him a golden complexion. He might've passed for human were it not for the wings and the sharp fangs that peeked from his lips when he spoke. "Are you okay?" He prodded. "You look like you might be sick."

"Just do as you've been told. Listen for my signal, then set fires at all the exits you can manage. As long as they feel they're trapped and can smell the smoke, it should panic them enough that they will listen to my demands. Avoid the guards. If one spots you, claim to be a servant." I settled my hood into place, tucking my golden hair beneath its dark fabric. I could feel my pulse in my throat as I gave one final warning. "Once you've done your job, flee back through the aqueducts. Think no more of your revenge. You've done what you can, the rest is up to me. Go home to your mother, Finn."

He didn't say a word in response but gave a short nod. His face was an unreadable, stoic mask.

At last, at long last....I turned the handle of the inner chamber's door.

I opened it carefully, letting it creak open just enough to let me slide through the crack. The door opened to the sloping walkway of a circular room that swirled downward into several layered platforms like an indoor arena. On the platforms many Unseelie, dressed in their strange, living fabrics of summer sky, stormy sea and rose petals, were perched, lost in a heated debate. Down at the center, in the innermost circle sat a silver throne, whose back rose nearly to the ceiling and twisted into the shape of a crescent moon.

In this room, the council received their queen. Today they would receive another.

I made my way down, taking in the opulently carved gray marble pillars that held up a domed ceiling, the inside of it painted with the blues, purples, and reds of the Story Teller's eyes, the swirling colors darted with tiny silver stars. There were no windows and no other doors and best of all, very few guards. It seemed that whatever was being said within these walls, they could not risk getting out on the tongues of loose lipped guards. That was all the better for me, but the few that remained, I counted only four, had to be the most trusted and well trained. These would not be so easily taken down as the two guarding the door. My one hope was to get my hands on a hostage.

I started on my way down towards Mab's throne, walking slowly, each footfall thoughtfully placed. I passed the first guard. He looked around as I passed, sensing something, but knowing not what it was. His hand fondled the guard of his sword. I stopped and held my breath, making myself go as still as possible. He looked directly at me for a moment. My blood pounded in my head as our eyes met. Warm gold and deadly ice. Then his gaze drifted back to the council. He sighed. His hand fell away from his sword.

Releasing my own breath, I continued down the sloping path, drawing ever closer to the thing I sought.

"We should send a representative to World's Edge immediately. She cannot ignore us if we appeal to her directly."

It was Lir who had spoken. I recognized the deep, emotion rattled voice. I tucked myself into an alcove, leaning my shoulder against a pillar, watched and listened. Lir looked haggard, the shadows around his eyes deeper. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot from crying. I'd killed his wife and burned down his house just that morning, and yet he was here?