I jerked. I shouldn’t be surprised that he knew my name. Of course he knew it. It was the posh way he said it–his voice sounded almost like my father’s.
He stood before me–I was right, he was my height. The little one remained glued to his side. I had the sudden and inexplicable urge to reach out and pat her on the head, just as I had wanted to do to a tiger cub I once saw in a travelling exhibit. The comparison kept my hand fisted, and at my side. I wanted to keep it.
“Your prince regrets telling the pretty lady this news.”
I turned my attention back to him. The pity in his eye almost brought me to tears. Why should a monster pity me?
“There was an incident at Ainsley’s. The Vardan get tried to stab the earl, she did.”
That I believed, and therefore I had to believe my sister really could be in Bedlam–where all the special barking mad went to die. Dede and Ainsley had history–a painful one.
The goblin held out his furry hand, and etiquette demanded I take it. The prince was offering me friendship, and my getting out of there alive just might depend on my taking it, treaty or no.
I nodded, my throat tight as his “fingers” closed around mine. He was warm. For a moment–and only one terribly mad one–I could have hugged him. “Thank you.”
He shook his head. “No thanks, lady. Never thank for bad news.”
I nodded again and he released my hand. The goblins watched me as I turned to leave, but no one spoke. They didn’t even try to tempt me to stay; they simply let me go. I think I despised them most at that moment, especially that little one who waved goodbye.
My sister was essentially in hell and goblins felt sorry for me. As far as I was concerned, things couldn’t get much worse.