Chapter 3

Hope awoke slowly. She stretched languorously, before she sat up and gauged her surroundings. She was sleeping in a bed (on a real mattress, she noted) in a small, sparsely furnished room. There was a small table next to her upon which sat a candle, a chest at the end of her bed, and a chair, which was occupied by a winged man. She studied him closely, her minding slowly dredging up memories from the previous evening of goblin tales.

The man was asleep with his feathered head resting on his chest. His large, white wings half spread on either side of his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His feet, she noticed with some queasiness, had long webbed toes that ended in small claws. He wore a fine, grey shirt and trousers, and he had a book resting on his thigh.

She pursed her lips and looked around the room again. Although now seemed like an opportune time to make an escape, she knew that she was too exhausted to stand, let alone walk out of the room. She was also very hungry.

Hope cleared her throat. The man's head snapped up and looked at her. She recoiled when she saw his eyes. "His pupils were unnaturally dilated, the inky black broken only by a thin ring of amber. The flash of color brightened up his face, which was tinged a sickly grey. He smiled at her.

"Good evening. Have you been awake long?" he asked politely.

She frowned. "No, not long."

"Excellent! Now, I don't know how much you remember from last night," Marak began ruefully, glancing at her to see if she would interject. He took a deep breath when she didn't say anything and looked away, focusing on his feet. He had been practicing what he would tell her all day long. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marak, and I am the king of the goblins. We live under the hill and the lake that you were camping nearby last night. I observed you fleeing from your... pursuers after you had been shot. I followed you, healed you, and brought you back to my home. I..." He cleared his throat nervously. "I intend for you to become my wife," he recited without looking at her. "You have all of the qualities of a king's wife; courage, strength, compassion…" He trailed off. He had thought by this point that Hope would have interrupted him. Instead, she was staring at him bemusedly.. She burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're laughing?" he accused her, perplexed. He had expected tears, pleading, anger, but not laughter.

Hope wiped her eyes. "I'm s-sorry," she stuttered. "Did someone put you up to this? I admit, it is a very creative costume, yourhighness," she sneered, gesturing towards his wings. "But you don't honestly expect me to believe that you are a king of- of a fairy tale? And even if what you say is true, you actually want meto become your wife?" She began laughing again.

Marak looked at her seriously. "Hope, please listen. I am a goblin, and goblins never lie. I would never deceive you." He flexed his wings anxiously.

Hope scratched her head, staring at his wings. They did look quite real; could he actually fly,she wondered? "Fine, if goblins exist, and if you are truly their king, I am the most unsuitable bride imaginable. I am a thief! A gypsy thief," she added, as if that made her even more undesirable. "I can open any lock, shoot any target, and steal any object. I have no interests in courts or politics or fashions. I am a wanderer; I live for the road and adventure. You don't want me to be your wife, I'm far too troublesome," she finished triumphantly.

There was pity in his eyes, behind the polite mask. "Hope," he said gently. "I know that this is a lot to take in right now. But you will make a wonderful King's Wife. Your race and your choice of occupation don't matter to me, or to the goblins."

That was when Hope started yelling. She wasn't really sure what she said, and she didn't care, punctuating her best insults with her pillows and the candleholder.

Marak calmly tried to placate her as best he could, catching and removing the projectile objects from her range. Her rage eventually disappeared and she turned her back on Marak to sob dejectedly into her pillow.


Hope had been underground for a week. Marak wanted to give her enough time so that she was healed enough to physically handle the King's Wife Ceremony. In the afternoons, he allowed her to wander through the castle on her own. Not that she had been able to hobble very far. The arrow, she had been told, had torn a hole in one of her lungs, and she became out of breath very quickly. Which was very inconvenient when one was still trying to find a way to escape. After all, she wasn't married to the monster yet, she told herself cheerlessly.

One hand tracing the wall, Hope shivered as she continued wandering around the castle. Her routine had been the same since she woke up after the first argument. Mostly, she slept. Marak was always there when she woke up, offering food and attempting to chat politely. She would eat the food and ignore him. Even though it was generally impossible for Hope to keep her mouth shut, she had not spoken to Marak since their argument. She would wait patiently until he left, and then she explored the castle. She would wander around until she was lost or tired, and then Marak would find her and lead her back to her room. There, she would generally find Isabel waiting to tell her sister all about the exciting goblins she met, and all of the new things she was learning.

Isabel was having a grand time living in the goblin kingdom, the traitor. The younger girl had no sympathy for her miserable older sister, and seemed to worship Marak. It made Hope sick to even think about it. These goblins may have brainwashed her sister, but they wouldn't be able to fool her so easily.

She grimaced as she admitted to herself that Isabel had not had the best experiences with humans during her short life. She had been persecuted and hunted even as a child, spending more nights than not going to bed hungry and cold.

Marak appeared around the corner in front of her, dressed all in black. He smiled encouragingly. "You made it far today!" She glared at him. When she didn't respond, not that he expected her to after her week of the silent treatment, he continued.

"Hope," he said gently. "It's time."

Her face crumpled, but she kept herself composed. She knew that she would be forced to marry Marak very soon, and had resigned herself to a life of misery with her ugly, but polite husband.

Marak felt pride and exasperation for his bride. She was so brave, and so stubborn! If only she would talk to him. "You'll be happy with me if you give me a chance, I promise." He tried to take her hand, but she jerked it from his grip, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. He continued, unruffled by her response, "Now, I've explained the ceremony to you before, do you have any questions?"

He led her into an empty stone room, furnished with a table and chair carved from the rock itself. He sat her down on the chair, and buckled gold circlets around her wrists and ankles. A part of her admired the seamless, solid gold circlets, probably worth a tidy fortune. Another part of her thought that, as a queen, she wouldn't need to steal nice things. Marak had assured her that the goblins would give her anything she wanted.

Marak left her in the hands of some old goblin women, after giving her a potion that took away her voice. Over the last week, Hope had come to terms with her aversion to goblins. Although some of the stranger forms still made her queasy to look at, she could now tolerate being surrounded by these goblin women without trembling in fear or revulsion. As she began to relax, she thought that it was quite nice to be pampered – she had never had so many people fussing over her before!

The ceremony went quickly. She was dressed up, painted, poked, prodded and cut. Hope thought that the most exciting part had been when Marak nearly decapitated her with a sword that turned into the King's Wife Charm.

After the ceremony, she was taken back to the original stone room, where Marak (her new husband, she thought disdainfully) gave her a drink that returned her voice and took off the gold circlets. He then had a goblin escort her up to the royal suite.

Hope waited until her goblin escort left her alone in the rooms before she stared, open-mouthed at her surroundings. She had never seen rooms as fine as these, with thick, white carpet, every piece of furniture and wall its own unique piece of art. There were paintings, stained glass and mosaics on every surface. Every pillow was an embroidery masterpiece. One entire side of the bedroom held clear, glass doors that led onto a balcony overlooking a large valley. She wandered around the room, looking at different objects that caught her attention. When she felt that she had examined every object in the room as thoroughly as possible, she turned her eyes towards the monstrosity that took up the middle of the room; the bed. It was an enormous canopied bed covered with sumptuous, midnight blue blankets and pillows.

She made her way nervously to the bed and sat down, holding her arms around herself. Hope guessed that, now that they were properly married by goblin standards, Marak would spend their wedding night ravishing her, in this very bed. She smiled a little. In all of her interactions with the goblin king, he had been painstakingly polite. He didn't seem like the ravishing type. In all likelihood, he'd spend the night politely making love to her.

She was still frowning at that thought when Marak walked into the room. She stared at him sullenly, biting her nails.

"I see you survived the ceremony," he tried to joke as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. She didn't respond. "It would make things much simpler if you spoke to me. Please, tell me what is going on in your head. I know that you haven't suddenly gone mute; you still talk to Isabel every day. I've even heard several reports of you briefly talking to other goblins. So please, talk to me."

Hope nodded her head slowly, still not meeting his eyes. "What happens now?"

The goblin king beamed at her. "See, that wasn't so bad!" His shoulders relaxed as he realized that his wife was again speaking to him, and walked closer to the bed, slumping into an overstuffed, green velvet armchair. "Well, in answer to your question, it mostly depends on what you want to do. I would love the opportunity to give you a proper tour of the castle. If you are hungry we can get some food from the kitchens. Or maybe you are just ready to go to bed. I realize that it's been a long day for you."

She was surprised by the freedom of choice. "I would like a tour. Even after a week wandering around, I don't know up from down in this castle. Is it possible for me to change into something comfortable?" she gestured towards the green dappled sheath that she wore.

"That is an excellent place to start our tour: your new wardrobe." He stood up and offered her his hand. Hope stared at the extended appendage. She stood up and resolutely placed her hands behind her back.

"I have a wardrobe?"

Marak smiled. "The King's Wife is the most important person in the kingdom. She sets all of the fashions, even if she does so unintentionally. Every seamstress, jeweler and shoemaker sends his or her best pieces to make up her wardrobe." He led her towards a set of double doors at the far end of the bedroom. "The King's Wife's wardrobe is always full of items of different sizes and styles, but you are lucky; the artisans had an entire week with your approximate measurements to assemble this outrageous ensemble for you." He opened the doors.

Hope looked around, open-mouthed. If she'd thought the bedroom ostentatious, the closet was simply overwhelming. There were racks, overflowing with dresses and shoes of every color and style, some even embroidered with flawless pearls and diamonds, all of incomparable value. She ran a hand wonderingly over the beautiful fabrics.

She walked to the middle of the closet where there was a dressing table, a mirror and a stool. She sank down onto the stool, slightly giddy, as she stared at the beautiful bracelets, necklaces and earrings artfully displayed on the tabletop.

Marak leaned against the door frame, grinning at her stunned expression. "Is there anything in particular that you would like to wear tonight?"

"Is there anything simple in this closet? Am I expected to wear a ball gown at all times?" She threw this question over her shoulder, unwilling to take her eyes off the jewelry in front of her.

He chuckled. "There are some 'simpler' clothes in the drawers – tunics, shirts, trousers, undergarments. Simpler dresses are also in the back."

Several minutes later, Hope emerged from behind a dressing screen, dressed in dark trousers and a forest green blouse. The fabric was finer then the nicest dress she had ever owned, but it was simplest thing she could find in this enormous closet. She pulled on a pair of black, soft leather boots. They were about calf-length, and they fit her perfectly, like everything else in this enormous wardrobe.

Marak gave her a quick tour of the rest of the King's suite. He showed her the balcony, the bathroom, the study, and the sitting area, all the while chattering to her about the history of the palace, and pointing out especially exquisite art pieces. To his surprise, she engaged in the conversation by tentatively answering and asking questions, looking around with interest and wonder.

After an hour of their tour, Marak could tell that his wife was beginning to tire. He began to guide them back to their room. "We missed dinner in the Great Hall, so I've arranged for some food to be brought up to our rooms."

She looked up at him, surprised. She had been so immersed in their conversation about goblin history, she hadn't even realized how hungry she was, until he said the word "food." Marak had proved to be an excellent storyteller, once she'd gotten over his stiff politeness.

As they approached their rooms, Hope began to feel her previous nervousness return. Her stomach knotted at thought of the enormous bed in the middle of the room, of Marak, and of her wedding night. Her anxiety built as they passed through the door. She could see the bed now, looming in front of her like a dark specter, taunting her.

Marak could feel the tension of his wife. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er- is everything alright? Did I say something to upset you?"

She wrung her hands and began pacing, channeling her anxiety into anger – a much more familiar emotion. "No, nothing is 'alright'! I've been kidnapped, forced into a marriage against my will, pushed, pricked, and- and, painted all day." She started crying. She told herself they were tears of anger. "I am not 'alright'." She wiped at her tears angrily.

He reached out to console her. "No!" she snapped angrily, snatching her arm away from him. "This is all yourfault. You did everything to upset me. So don't try to comfort me. I don't even like you," she whispered. "Because of you, I have to spend my wedding night with a strange man in a strange place with that monstrosity." She gestured angrily towards the bed.

Marak suddenly understood. He reached out and gently placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up. She flinched slightly, but held his eyes. "Hope, listen- no don't interrupt me. Nothing is going to happen tonight. There is nothing expected of you. It often takes years for a king and his wife to conceive, and that is because goblins allow time for the couple to learn to love each other. Yes, love. There have been many Kings' Wives who truly loved their husbands. I won't even sleep in your bed. I sleep on that cot over there until you say differently. It is described as lovemaking for a reason," he told her quietly.

He paused, and reached down to hold her hands. "It may seem cruel that you were taken from the human world, but goblins are not cruel. I am not cruel, and I would never hurt you. I hope that one day you will understand this."

Hope tremulously nodded as a few more silently tears escaped from her eyes. Marak looked at her closely before he very carefully and tenderly pulled his wife into a gentle embrace. He stroked her hair as she sobbed into her shoulder, murmuring soothing words of comfort. He knew that the first night was always difficult on the King's Wives.

When she had finished crying, Marak pulled off her boots and gently tucked her into bed, laying a kiss and a weak sleeping spell on her forehead.

"Good night, Hope. Tomorrow will be easier, I promise."