Page 126 of Reign

A goblin appeared at my side, his bony fingers quickly digging through the dried grass. With ease, he plucked the pair of forget-me-nots from the straw and presented them to me in his sallow palm.

“Pretty flowers, miss,” he said, flashing me a crooked smile.

He placed the blooms in my hand, and I quickly tucked them back inside the locket, closing it to keep them safe.

“Thank you,” I breathed, huffing out the heartache that clawed at my throat. “They’re my favorite.”

The goblin bowed his wiry head before scuttling back to the table to resume clearing the empty plates.

“I’m so sorry, Niamh,” Elizebeth whispered, her voice thick with anguish. “I thought you might have been my—excuse me.”

She turned on the balls of her feet, and without an explanation, hurried out of the Great Hall.

Isobel rubbed my back gently as tears streamed down my face, then she took my hand and led me to a nearby window.

“Fresh air always helps blow sadness away,” she murmured, pushing it open.

Needing a distraction before I lingered on thoughts of Bash any longer, I asked, “Do all the goblins live in the castle?”

Isobel giggled. “No!” She gestured out of the window. “There are settlements across Annwn. Nearby is Goblin Combe, a little hamlet where the goblins and boggarts reside. It’s beautiful—ancient woodland and enchanting flora. You should visit if you have the chance during your stay on the Isle.”

She pointed toward a stony formation in the middle distance. “See those trees surrounding the rocky peak of the tor? That’s Wistaman’s Woodland. Among the forest are treehouses that the fairies and elves call home. Mabina and I used to live there, until Regina arrived on the Isle and shackled us to the castle.” She winked, telling me she was jesting, before turning her gaze back to the landscape. “Then beyond the woodland, in the far distance, you can see the Gogmagog Hills. Ogres and giants make their camps in between those valleys.”

A trumpet blared from across the hall, interrupting Isobel’s tour.

I glanced over my shoulder to see a goblin standing on a stool, making himself nearly as tall as the courtiers.

“Let the merriment begin!” he squeaked.

A band of goblins, carrying instruments, waddled into the Great Hall and set up their music stand as I retook my seat at the table.

The goblins filled the vast space with merry melodies. One plucked at a lute, another played arpeggio on a harp, and the steady drone of a hurdy-gurdy hummed in the background. Among the performers, I spotted Bronwyn puffing on a recorder, and I gave her a quick wave.

As a tambourine’s crashing rhythm enlivened the music, Isobel dragged Mabina to the space between the band and the courtiers’ table.

Regina clapped with delight as the women danced, weaving themselves together in an arrangement of intricate footwork and swift spins. The pair moved in perfect harmony, as if they were one. When their dance was done, Mabina gazed up at Isobel with loving eyes, caressing her cheek with her thumb.

It was a tender moment, not unlike those I’d shared with Bash. My hollow chest ached as I yearned for his affection once more. Before despair consumed me, Isobel noticed my solemn expression. She planted a heartfelt kiss on the back of Mabina’s hand before heading my way.

“Will you accept my invitation to dance?” she asked.

“Um,” I hesitated. “All right.”

Isobel didn’t attempt a complicated routine; she simply swung me around, giggling gleefully. Even Mabina laughed as Isobel swayed gracefully while I lumbered like a clodhopper.

As she spun me under her arm, I caught a glimpse of Fitzroy. He watched our dance, his lips glued to the rim of his goblet. I gave him a little nod, inviting him to join in our revelry, but he shook his head. Fitzroy’s reluctance didn’t surprise me—though I sensed he could be persuaded.

After returning Isobel to Mabina, I locked my sights on the pouting prince.

I passed Regina, seated in her throne, whispering sweet nothings into Wolver’s pointed ear. I skirted around Billy, who bobbed along to the tune, and I avoided Slaugh. He remained eerily motionless, so still I began to wonder whether anyone was truly beneath the shroud of black fabric draped over his chair.

Once I was within arm’s reach, I tapped Fitzroy on the shoulder.

“Care to dance?”

Before I could finish the last syllable, he shook his head again, leaving me deflated.

“Why not?” I whined.