Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

He took a deep breath and straightened, his austere elven expression replacing the sweet Sean she had thought she loved. “You say you don’t know where the goblins are, but you have ways of finding out. Your pet goblin, for instance.”

“He’s a baby. Tell the elves to figure it out for themselves. I don’t know.” Heat crept up her body and into her face as anger flowed through her.

“Keelie, before this is finished, you will come to me for protection.” Sean turned and strode away, leaving her alone on the path.

She watched him march toward Water Sprite Lane, his back stiff with hurt elven pride.

Keelie tried to examine her feelings, but her heart and mind were in a confused jumble. She turned her steps back toward the Green Lady Herb shop. She heard Sir Davey’s deep voice in conversation inside, but she wasn’t ready to speak to him or to anyone else. She hadn’t had time yet to mourn the loss of Heartwood, and now of Sean. And she couldn’t answer the elves’ questions-she just didn’t know.

Keelie felt her dry cheeks. She wondered if it was her dark fae blood that was keeping her from falling apart even though her heart felt like a shattered mirror, all the brightness broken forever.

When she’d been in school at Baywood Academy in California, she’d gone running whenever she needed to shake off bad feelings. Before she knew it, she was racing down Ironmonger’s Way. She didn’t even look toward the jousting field. The very thought turned her stomach. Freedom. She wanted the sweet freedom that running gave her.

She wondered what Sean would tell the elves.

Did they think she’d armor up and join this goblin army that she supposedly knew the location of? But what if it wasn’t an army? Peascod had recruited his fighters from urban streets-hungry, solo goblins. Alone, they were no threat to anyone. If she ran into a few goblins making their way through the faire’s trash bins, she wouldn’t tell, not even Dad.

If they were armored, like Peascod’s fighters, then she would tell her father and let him make the decision. Dad would take her information to the Council, and it would come under debate-or would it? The elves would more than likely go immediately into defensive mode. The goblins could even be killed.

The elves still didn’t trust her, and she didn’t trust them, either.

Thomas the Glass Blower waved as she sprinted by his smoking kiln. She lifted a hand in return. Humans were friendlier than elves, and right now she preferred their company. The mud men pretended to jump out of her way, with exaggerated movements, as she passed them on King’s Way. “Make way for the lady in a hurry!”

Keelie noticed the flickers of sympathy in their sun-wrinkled, mud-encrusted faces.

At least humans, or most humans, were more accepting of each other. Differences were celebrated. Elves-it was their way or nothing. You were shunned for being different.

The Birds of Prey show wasn’t too far ahead. She thought fondly of Ariel, the Cooper’s Hawk who had once been part of the show and was now free in the Dread Forest.

She slowed a little, her muscles fatigued more quickly than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t run in a while. She’d let her workouts slide because she’d been so busy with her tree shepherding duties.

The Birds of Prey area was open, but Keelie didn’t recognize the costumed workers. Cameron was probably cleaning cages in the back. She should stop by and visit with her soon. With Heartwood gone, she might have time to help feed the birds.

She ran past the candle shop, where Trixie, the round, sixtyish owner, waved as her daughter, Karen, as spindly as her mom was robust, smiled. She returned the friendly gestures but didn’t stop. The Horne Shoppe’s owner, Elizabeth Hawkins, smiled at her as she stocked her displays of faux devil horns, unicorn horns, and fairy wings. Her cat Luci was asleep in the shop’s gutter, paws dangling. He was probably recovering from a Knot-induced bender.

Ahead, Keelie saw the tall front entrance of the faire, which looked like a castle wall, and the tarot shop in its shadow. The shop was little more than a deck with a roof over it, the sides hung with colorful draperies and twinkling glass ornaments that twirled with every breeze that billowed out the silky cloths. It looked as if Sally had a client, and Keelie would recognize that mane of red hair anywhere. Finch.

She needed to ask the faire director why she’d encouraged Vangar to ask her for help clearing his name. Maybe the answer would anger her, which might numb the hurt of her breakup with Sean. And she needed something to do since Heartwood was no more. Finch might give her a job.

Keelie pushed aside a vermilion curtain covered in tiny embroidered mirrors and stepped up onto the wide-planked floor of the booth.

“Busy?”

Finch lifted her upper lip in a snarl. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re having your cards read.” Keelie sat down on the fat purple velvet cushion that covered the wooden bench and the faire director scooted over to give her room.

“Yeah, this is all new to me.”

“What? Dealing with angry crowds?”

Finch motioned nonchalantly with her hand. “Them, I can handle. This other thing I can’t.”

“I’m lost. But I do need to talk to you.” Keelie flicked her eyes over at Sally. She wore a scarf around her curly blond hair, and she was shuffling her cards while humming softly to herself.

“Please be quiet as I try to tune myself to the Earth’s vibration,” she said. She picked up her humming again.

Finch looked directly at Keelie. “You can trust Sally. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

Sally raised one eyebrow. “A long time, kid. You aren’t going to say anything that’s going to surprise me.”

She kept shuffling her cards expertly, the little cardboard rectangles flashing and fanning out, then sliding together with a snap. If tarot reading didn’t work out for her, she could take up card dealing in Vegas.

“This is about Vangar,” Keelie said.

Finch’s cheeks burned bright red. “Yeah, tell me about it. Pretty intuitive of you to figure out why I’m here.” Then Finch narrowed her eyes and studied Keelie as if she were a milk carton that had reached its expiration date but still might be okay to drink. “You’re not right. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m upset about Heartwood,” Keelie quickly replied.

Sally lowered her cards and pointed her finger at Keelie’s chest. “Your heart chakra is clogged with dark energy.”

Finch arched a red eyebrow. “Spill, kid.”

Keelie inhaled to hold back a sob.

Sally reached underneath her table and handed Keelie a tissue. “Tell us. Maybe we can help.”

“Sean and I broke up,” Keelie said.

Finch nodded. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, because the pain is raw and fresh, but in the long run, I think you two weren’t meant for each other.”

“What?” Keelie blew her nose.

“He was all wrong. He’s always been bound to the jousters, who are also elven warriors, you know. I give Sean credit for stretching himself and trying to expand his mind, but I’ve known him for many more years than you have been alive, my dear.”

Finch’s words hit home. She’d known Sean since before Keelie was born. Sean was eighty-six years old, and Keelie was going on seventeen. Their age difference was something else that had contributed to their problems-he had already experienced so much in life, and she was at the beginning of her journey.

Sally pointed her finger. “Let me read your cards and give you some love advice.”

“That’s okay.” Keelie waved away the invitation.

“That’s why Finch is here. Vangar stokes her fires unlike any dra-”