The Goblin's Heir

Chapter Nine: Bride

His face was inches from mine, the weight of him crushing me down into the bed as he grasped my throat, his grip growing tighter...tighter. Lysander growled and spat in rage, flapping his wings out above me, filling the canopy of the brooding chamber bed with brilliant white feathers. Everywhere he touched burned like he were a living flame and it tore away at me, consuming me inside and out as the smell of burning hair and boiling fat choked the air. "You still feel it don't you?" Lysander hissed, grinning at me as his flesh began to droop and melt away from his bones until there was nothing left but a grinning skull. His jaw continued to move, forming words he shouldn't be able to form. "The feeling of the noose around your neck."

Soft cool lips pressed to my temple. Long fingers brushed my tangled hair from my throat as a handsome voice murmured, "Time to wake up, Lovely."

"No, let's just stay in bed." I protested in a mumble, turning over and pressing my face into his chest. I hoped he couldn't tell that I'd had another nightmare, that he couldn't hear the rapid beating of my heart or see the fear that seemed to roar inside me. I'd had that dream so often. It was my most recurring nightmare, being under Lysander again...feeling him, the smell of my own body burning, the feeling of being choked. It was true I still felt it sometimes, the tug of the leash that Titania had bound around my throat. It was a phantom sensation that came and went, like that of a leg that had long ago been severed. I usually told Knut about my nightmares. It helped. But this one was just too painful a thing to speak of and part of me was afraid that I'd somehow conjure Lysander back to life if I spoke his name aloud. 

Knut's laugh shook his ribs. "Five more minutes then, but no more. We've a lot to do." I peaked beneath my lashes to see him smirking down at me. "And no, there's nothing you can do to buy yourself another hour so stop what you're doing."

"You're boring." I huffed, dragging my hand back up to his chest. 

"And you're still very drunk." He stole a brief, sweet kiss from me. I clung to him, wanting more and the kiss deepened, growing in heat and desperation. He moaned into my mouth, his hands slipping beneath the blanket. 

I ended up getting that extra hour.

"You fight dirty." Knut said, sitting up in bed as I stepped out of my bath. Little goblins hopped around me, patting me down with warm towels to help dry me off. 

"Why do you sound surprised?" I teased. Ask held out my dressing gown. I slipped my arms into the lacy sleeves and pulled it shut over my nakedness, then sent them all away so that Knut and I were alone again. I sat down at my vanity, pulling my long hair over one shoulder and began running my golden hairbrush through it, making a show of it. Behind me, Knut groaned and muttered in agony. I smirked into my mirror. 

"Why is it that on my busiest days, you always try your damnedest to thwart my plans?" He asked, making a ruckus as he bounced on one leg, trying to get the other through a leg hole of a pair of cream colored breeches.

"I don't know what you mean," I said innocently, stretching, and making certain sounds. I grinned wickedly, seeing the blush that crept along his cheeks and darkened the tips of his ears.

He looped his arms around my neck and kissed my ear. "You know exactly what I mean my little she-devil." He purred into it, giving the lobe a nibble. 

I squealed and batted him away. "Stop that! If you're in such a rush, leave me be!"  I gave him a coy look as I turned back to my mirror. "I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself." 

"Oh, but you won't want to miss this." Swinging his long legs over the bench, he perched himself right behind me and snatched my brush from my hand. "There are a number of choices the boys need to make and one of them is the most important of all." He gathered my hair in one hand and brushed it with the other, letting the soft locks slip from his fingers. He gave it a little tug, bringing my back flush with his chest and breathed, "It's bride picking day," like it were a lover's promise.