The Goblin's Heir

Chapter Fifty Two: Blood

The blood painting my hands was tacky now as I leaned heavily against the wall of the cottage's kitchen. More pooled, slipping through the cracks of the kitchen floorboards. Magni's screams still burned the inner chambers of my ears. How he begged me, pleaded with me for forgiveness even as his life's blood poured from him, I doubted I would ever forget. 

My youngest son went quiet and limp when Hughes finally pulled the bullet from his chest. His head rolled to the side, facing me, his eyes staring at me blankly before his eyelids fluttered closed. Silver lashes brushed against pale cheeks. A noise burst from my throat, part cry, and part gasp of relief. My body was as uncertain of my emotions as I was. Should I cheer for his death? Or should I be weeping? 

Hughes pressed his fingers to his throat and bent down to the level of his mouth while Bran poured magic into Magni's body, slowly sealing the wound. "He's only fainted from the pain, Mrs. Pole." Hughes assured me, making me wonder what sort of expression I was making, if I looked like a mother in mourning. 

"Why are you saving him?" Frit raged from where Ari had him pinned to the floor face down with her talons pressed against his spine. He twisted, trying to lift himself up and push her off. "He's a murderer! A thief!"

"As you already are!" Ari hissed, pressing down harder. She glared at Bran. "I told you it was a bad idea to invite them here. Princes only care about one thing." She glared at the others, daring them to come to Frit's aid. "We should just throw them in the Void, like we'd planned."

"We can't. We need them." Bran sighed heavily, finishing with Magni's healing. The light about his hands faded. "Let's move him into his bedroom," Bran suggested, taking the seed from the table and placing it in the doctor's bloodied hand. With a nod, Hughes moved back, allowing Bran to lift Magni up like a bride in his arms. His pale cheek rested over Bran's heart, his blood-slick cheek leaving stains on Bran's white skin where it peeked out of the open collar of his dark shirt. "Matilda may come if she wishes, but keep the others here. Don't let them follow us."  He ordered Ari.

My sons' eyes followed the doctor's form as he trailed after Bran and Magni, their gazes stuck on where he carried the seed in one white-knuckled grip. He kept his pistol in his free hand, the hammer already cocked. 

Frit's wild eyes darted around in his skull, seeking his brothers' faces. "Why are you all standing around? Help me!" 

Floki shakily rose to his feet from where he'd been cradeling Magni's head, his eyes never shifting away from his twin's. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Floki said in a low voice, his chest still heaving with that moment of panic. Blood washed his skin the same as mine. In his entire life, I had never heard him use that particular curse with such venom. 

"What do you mean what's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? He killed father! Stole from us! Now he's spouting some bullshit about father being...being gone! Just gone! That everything we've ever believed is a lie? Did you forget how he tore him apart?  Don't you want revenge? Come on! Get angry! Go feral! Act like a goblin for once in your goddamned life!"

"What has revenge ever gotten us? What good has it ever done this family!" Floki roared at him, his face flushing with rage. "Look at our mother's face! Does she look happy that you shot him right in front of her?"

"If she's not happy, then she didn't love him at all." Frit growled lowly, his eyes shifting as far away from me as they could. 

"You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking that!" Cerise hissed. Floki grabbed her when she lunged toward him. She tugged against his firm grip. There were tears in her eyes, turning them to glass. "You have no idea the suffering she's gone through! How badly she fought to keep you all safe! Now you spit in her face like that? Spoiled brat!"