Chapter 15: At Last
"Taking a cat nap, Mabrey?"
Whoever brought her from the wonderful land of slumber was going to suffer her wrath. She was dreaming of a type of cake she had once when she was a child. Her mother was the creator, stating that she had learned the recipe from her mother, who in turn was taught the art from her short lived husband. Mabrey had never met her grandfather, only hearing bits and pieces that he emigrated from England to the United States and passed shortly after her mother was born. Strangely enough, the last time she had tried that cake was as previsions on the trip to Ireland. It brought back bittersweet memories.
"Shut up, I'm sleeping." Mabrey tried to form the words, but guttural sounds were all that came out. It must be because she was exhausted from the day before. Or had it been longer since she passed out holding Shamus's hands? She did not care for the answer, only wanting to stay asleep for a little while longer.
"You have been asleep for two days. I think it is about time for you to wake up." And with that, someone pinched her on the upper part of her shoulder…hard. Her eyes shot open and she pushed herself off of what her head had been resting on. "Harsh, but effective." Her head was previously perched on the goblin King's lap. Her heart jumped.
"Is that any way to tre-" Mabrey began. Throaty groans escaped her lips, sounding nothing like herself. She blinked. Her hands rested on her throat. Marak stared at her contentedly, his eyes half lidded in the barely lit room. Said room closed in around her with its maple table towering over her head parading a strange golden cup. A couple of oil paintings proudly hung on the walls. A clinking sound distracted her, and it was only then that she noticed her hands and ankles were bound in shackles. She took a deep breath to protest, but Marak stopped her.
"Don't bother. I have given you a little something to keep you from speaking." Marak ran his hand through Mabrey's wild hair. She pulled away angrily, remembering why she was tired and worn out in the first place. Was he going to gloat on how stupid she was to believe in him and lose her life forever? Or did he want the last words? "It is time to do what a proper goblin King would have done months ago."
Like handing her over to the elves? Mabrey jut her lip out, ready to hear her condemnation. He does not show any sign of guilt. Was I really such a pain? But then, if I knew what I know now, I think I would have tried harder to stay away. Bite him if I had to…but it's too late. I've lost. She reached for him by peering into his slit eyes. Just show some regret so I know that I was not the only one who felt something. Only a glimmer of jovial excitement told her that no, he did not feel the same way. In fact, she thought that he was absolutely delighted for Lord No Star to take her off his grimy little goblin hands! She wiggled her bare toes, she was in a nightgown of some kind, and curled into a tight ball like the time when she heard that her parents died.
"We are pass the due date for getting married. Uncoil yourself. You will be needing your two feet for what will happen next. Come now, close your mouth. You look like a fish without water." Marak patted Mabrey's rigid back and stood. "My dear, seriously, why do you think you're here? I have been trying very hard to court you." Then he was gone, leaving Mabrey in stagnant air. In the mirror that hung on the opposite side of the wall, she really did resemble a fish.
What just happened? So…no Lord No Star? Did I completely make a fool of myself for nothing? Mabrey mentally clawed herself for believing in Inanna. But then, the elf woman really did accept the fact she was involved in a conspiracy to exchange the two women. If so, Marak was doing something completely dangerous by wedding himself to Mabrey. She was a human, and the goblins needed the elves for their magic. The elf King desired a human; why he wanted Mabrey was beyond her comprehension for now. Even so, breaking off the arrangement to trade the women would be akin to slapping the elf King in his pretty face. Mabrey shook her buzzing head, deciding to focus on one problem at a time.
She was getting married. The fool. What kind of proposal was that? Where was the getting down on one knee, expensive dinners, and flowers? Or how about the exhilaration of addressing invitations to her friends and family, which only included Dani, Beth, Gresh, Sorei, and the children? Mabrey had forgotten that she never once in her life wanted any of that. Yet she still complained relentlessly in her magic induced silence.
At once goblin women filed into the tight room. They brought a multitude of items, but moved too fast for Mabrey to discern what they were. The women shuffled about her until she was pushed and shoved towards the mirror.
"Skinny little thing, she is." A particularly large goblin woman said. She had had coarse dog's fur covering her entire body and sported a black wet dog nose. "She looks like a wee child, yet I know she is the age of nineteen." Mabrey tried to growl a retort about the issue of her young looks but stopped for two reasons. One, she heard this complaint all the time. Two, she could not speak even if she wanted to. Plus, either the goblin women did not know that she could understand the general goblin language, or they had forgotten.
"I heard she ran away. She probably hasn't eaten in quite some time, the poor dear." This speaker was Lendil's mother. Her yellow feathers were groomed to perfection, but a few were puffing out. "Marak should have let her eat before the wedding."
"Oh no," interjected an old dwarf woman, "this room and the main hall were just completed. He had to marry her straight away, just like in the olden days."
Mabrey noticed that while the women were speaking, they were putting on a revealing bright yellow-green dress. She gawked at it. A green wedding dress. Of course. Only goblins would ever think of creating a green wedding dress. She watched in the mirror, noting that the dress did match the shade of her eyes. That must have been Marak's idea.
"Dear oh dear. The girl has no chest at all. We'll have to tighten the dress with pins." The dog woman commented sadly. Mabrey clenched her fists. So what if she was underdeveloped? Yet she waited as the women dabbed makeup onto her eyes and cheeks as another group pulled her hair up. They left a stray curly piece that landed on her nose. It constantly tickled, and she desperately hoped they would do something to it. They never did. Instead, the oldest of the women pulled out a jar of paint, took Mabrey's pale arm, and wrote symbols upon it with an ancient brush.
"That can't be right." The old goblin said. She squinted hard as the lettering brimmed gold. A pair of glasses was handed to the woman, and she duly placed them on the edge of her long wrinkled nose. Every single lettering glowed gold. The woman sucked in tight breathes each time the old goblin touched the shaking paintbrush on Mabrey's arm.
"What does Marak think he's doing? He can't marry the girl. She is passing every test, which means-"
"She has not passed the magic element, Hilda, remember? But now I know why Marak is interested. I believe him, and you should, too. He has never failed us. Not once." The goblins hushed after this, shamed by their doubt. Soon, the women were finished.
"She's ready." Lendil's mother announced to the other side of a door. Sounds of switching locks erupted. A guard slipped into the room dressed in all black silks. He snatched Mabrey's chains and indicated for her to follow. She did, though she felt like a dog on a leash by doing so. What awaited her on the other side of the door shook her heart entirely. Almost all of the goblin population was lined up and staring at her. Mabrey had always been the type of girl who became shy whenever a classroom of twenty four paid attention to her during a speech, but now, with thousands of goblins? A dull throb graced the right side of her head, and things became blurry. Was she going to faint? She instinctually combed the crowd for Marak. Only joyous faces greeted her. Then she remembered. This was a wedding, so he would be…
At the end of the goblin rimmed aisle stood Marak clothed in black attire like his guard. The only difference she could note were the bright yellow-green trimmings on his sleeves and collar, and an oversized black cape comprised of gold letterings. Just the sight of Marak calmed her, and she raised her head up high as she was lead down like an obedient lady of old. Her footsteps quickened, though, her excitement boiling up deep within her breast. Marak's bad habit of rocking on his toes relayed that he matched Mabrey's enthusiasm, perhaps more. As Mabrey stood parallel to the goblin King, she pondered if any of the previous King's Brides have been so ecstatic to join their lives with that of another species? She speculated that she might be the first. Of course, most the wives would relent and eventually admire and even love their goblin spouse, but never before was there an ounce of affection prior to marriage.
Mabrey's guard undid her leash, backing away from the couple. Marak produced a knife from a table, completely ruining the moment of love Mabrey was holding dear.
Wait a second, what kind of marriage is this? What if I was lied to, and I really am some kind of exchange for the Treaty? The girl frantically locked eyes with Marak. His face was stone cold, but those slit eyes danced. Trust me. This is how we always wed, little cat. Mabrey, who had not known that her lower lip was trembling, composed herself. She willingly held out her hands, palm up. The crowd whispered, their lowered voice like rustling leaves. The bride ignored them, ignored the true blade, ignored the searing pain that followed both when the knife neatly cut through her skin and when she placed throbbing hands into bowls of equally painful solution that healed her injuries. She did however inspect the result like the curious cat she was. A pale silver line was forever adorned upon her skin.
There were more knives afterword that cut skin and sliced nails, but Mabrey chose to keep her attention on Marak. She saw the concentration etched into his face. Lines crowed around his eyes and the corners of his mouth as he frowned, trying to cut in the exact way he was taught so long ago. Frowning never suited the goblin King, yet in this perspective, he truly bore the appearance of a well worn King. He knew that his face was being observed like some foreign creature. He almost failed in preventing himself from laughing. Hopefully curiosity would not kill this cat.
The girl barely noticed when Marak painted a strange mark on her forehead. It only hurt like tender bruise, but nothing greater. More blood was taken from the girl. It was collected in a basin. A large red mist rose from the container, but as two other colors accompanied the color, the goblins packed into the halls swarmed in whispered gossip. The slivers of colors were a dazzling silver and a contrasting ebony, which was a great deal tinier than any of the other colors. It was barely noticeable.
Marak studied the mixture. He nodded, took a cloth, and dipped it into the mixture. He then yielded a fantastic sword. The edges gave the impression that if anyone merely touched it, he or she would lose a finger or two. The cloth smeared Mabrey's blood onto the blade. It hummed a deafening sound, almost like Marak had instead struck it against a pure metal surface. The sword continued to twang dangerously. Mabrey thought the thing would break in pieces, but before it could do so, Marak swung the thing above his head. She only registered that he was going to belt her with the sword only mere milliseconds until the blade was an incher before her nose. She scrunched her eyes close, ready for pain, yet it never occured.
Marak's hands were empty now. Mabrey blinked her eyes. His expression was that of relief. She scanned the people around her, their faces the mirror image of the King's. A soft hiss woke Mabrey from her dreamlike state, and she glanced down. A dashing golden snaked swayed before her. From what Mabrey's could tell, the snake had feminine stature, and her scaly face bore sadness. Mabrey wanted to ask the creature why it was depressed, but the snake was already twisting itself around Mabrey's forearm until its head rested on the top of Mabrey's right hand. There, it sunk into the girl's pale skin like a tattoo. This was the end of the King's Wife Ceremony.
Mabrey was lead back by her guard, trying to contemplate what had just happened with the golden snake. She snuck a glimpse of the creature on her hand. Mabrey was not frightened of snakes, and the fact that one had snuggled right into her skin barely miffed her. If it had been a golden spider, then there would be a problem. Now back in the room she found herself this morning, she waited. The guard had left, and she was all alone save for her reflection in the mirror.
"You are stunning, little cat." Mabrey jumped from where she was sitting on a large chair.
"Where did you come from?" She squeaked. She opened her mouth again, touching her throat. Her voice was back.
"From the door!" Marak boomed. Mabrey frowned, crossing her arms. "Hello there, don't be like that. We mustn't act like an old married couple." He sat down next to the girl and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Because we are merely newlywed." Mabrey duly elbowed him.
"Never mind that. What of Lord No Star and," Marak placed his clawed finger on the girl's lips.
"For your sake and mine, do not mention anything about those of the elf clan until I tell you to. It is crucial that you keep your mouth shut on the topic. Either that or I keep you from speaking like before." After witnessing the girl's frown, Marak explained, "This is all I ask of you. Please, trust me."
"Fine, I shall play your game in agreement that you will tell me why those goblin women were so abxious. I was passing some sort of test that I should not have, and when you made my blood turn into those misty colors, why did everyone jump out of their skins with worry?"
"Well, I should think that was obvious. You are a human-elf-goblin mutt, essentially a human, but one drop of either species considers you a member." Mabrey reeled back from him.
"I should not think it was obvious! What in the world…? I don't have magic, I look like a human; why would you ever think I was what you say I am?"
"Because of those misty colors, as you call them. They indicated that you have at least one drop of elf blood and even less goblin in you. Of course, that would make you a goblin, but considering the circumstances, you were my best choice as a wife. Generally, goblin Kings do not marry goblin women, but your specific mixture of blood lead to some loopholes and…" Marak waved his hands as if breaking goblin law was an everyday occurrence. Mabrey relaxed into her seat.
"I am not your average Marak. By all rights, I should have used leashing spells, stunning spells, sleeping spells, anything that could weaken you, but in my heart there resided no courage to bring about those actions. When we arrived at Hallow Hill, my job was to marry you right on the spot. Since the ceremony requires a door spell and we would not have had a door, I was saved from forcing you to wed until the new halls were built here." At this, Mabrey touched her forehead. So that was what Marak had painted on. She wiped at it. Marak clasped his hand onto hers to prevent her from toying with the spell any longer.
"Hell be damned! I could not even kidnap you properly! In the end, you came willingly, and I actually had a chance to court you like a real man! And then there is your heritage! This goes against everything I was taught, everything that makes me a goblin King. My ancestors must be turning in their tombs, ready to smack me senseless!"
"My heritage being from an elf and goblin?" Mabrey inquired. Now she knew the great risk this goblin had taken. She tightened her grip on his hand and unconsciously snuggled closer to Marak's warmth.
"You, my little cat, are completely right." He took a moment to think of what words to relay to her, his black tail twitching at his thoughts. "When I saw your eyes, I knew something was off about you. I researched, trying to match any lineage that would correspond to how your eyes came to be. You see, eyes are very important. After a week of arriving here, I cracked the case. You are a descendent of a great family left to filter out their magic through marrying human wives. Remember Dragontalon?" Mabrey thought back to that night on the bus oh so long ago and how Marak explained to her how he had caught her like a spider would a fly. She narrowed her important eyes at him, nodding. He laughed and tugged her close.
"He was not only supervising America's own goblin infested caves, but there to attend a funeral. You have read of Thaydar and Irina?" He stopped to watch her affirm his notion. "Yes, you nosey girl, I should have known. It would appear that you are ten times their great granddaughter. Your grandfather, the funeral to whom Dragontalon attended, was eight times their great grandson. He was sent by Dragontalon to start the beginnings of our trade. Thanks to him, we currently have it established and set in stone. That devil also appeared to have sired a child. You are the proof of that."
"Then how was I able to get away with marrying you?"
"Charm, that snake round your wrist, accepted you. And, you must know I am only making assumptions now, you are so completely human with no magic abilities, so there is a possibility that you are able to easily bear a son. This would be completely different if you had married into an elf family, however. For example, if you joined with the Noble who lives in the north, your son's magic could have killed you."
"That never would have happened anyway. He already has a wife and a two-year-old baby boy."
"It was only an example, my dear." Marak tenderly kissed her forehead. She leaned into it, not knowing the relief that flooded her body was due to his warmth. Mabrey closed her eyes and merely rested: something that she was unable to do for some time now. It was hard to believe a couple of days ago she had fought against her growing desire to be with Marak. Now, with everything explained and ensured, she was in thankful bliss.
"Actually, if you have any other questions," Marak said into the girl's hair, "you can ask Charm. I image her words would be more accurate."
"So this can talk?" Mabrey stared at the snake called Charm. She recalled the creature's sadness and made a promise to herself to question it sometime soon. "How do I talk to it?"
"Just address her."
Mabrey drew a deep breath.
"Charm?"
Marak marched over to Lord No Star's tent. The goblin had just finished explaining to Mabrey that it was custom for the King's Wife to stay underground for two or three months to become acquainted with her subjects. Before she could protest, he reminded her that centuries past, the goblin King's Wife would never exit the caves for the rest of her life. In the end, she agreed with one catch; she was granted unlimited access to the library. Marak "forgot" tell her that she was the King's Wife and allowed anywhere. The order to begin moving into the halls was already set, so that would give his wife plenty of time to meet other goblins and dwarves she was unable to before while dawdling over her beloved books. However, now was the time to negotiate. No matter how much the King wanted to hold his wife in his arms.
I can grow use to calling her that. My wife! The goblin King positively glowed.
"What kind of beast would dare slight me and have the gall to enter my home so blissfully?" Lord No Star stood frigidly at the opening of his tent. Marak was not bothered by the elf's incredible height. Instead, he grinned.
"Easy there, my friend. I am a newlywed man!" No Star scowled, pulling his face into the something not pretty at all. Reluctantly, he invited the goblin in his home.
"Do not toy with me, Marak. You know of our treaty, yet you completely disregarded it." The elf kept his voice thin and calm, but a dark rumble in his chest was a reminder of his anger.
"My dear Lord No Star, we had not discussed the terms at all. I gladly shall now."
"Now listen here, Pantherclaw, you could not be as dense as to entirely pass over the implications of the treaty. My Inanna for your Mabrey. She was well adapted to the extraordinary, more so than Katherine." No Star let his emotions flicker at the mention of Katherine. She was the human to whom he was engaged. She tried to commit suicide, and the elf King desired to release her from the duty of bearing his child. This was when Mabrey had come along. It had been so perfect. "You should have heard gossip of it. Or at least spoke of it with others."
"Unfortunately, no and no." I made especially sure of it was etched all over Marak's goblin face.
"You lie."
"Goblins never do."
"Then you will have no treaty!"
"Not necessarily. You see, my pretty friend, Mabrey is a human-elf-goblin mix, though the blood has been utterly deluded." No Star grimaced. Marak smiled despite himself. Elves never did like mixing their blood with a goblin's, and No Star proved no different from the others. "Not the perfect match for you, but a wonderful one for me. Only this pairing will bring back some of our old magic, but for you, I am sure your marriage would have ended in disaster. I am surprised that you did not sense her goblin-elf blood, unless it is so faint you simply passed it over."
"Then what, oh mighty nonlying goblin King, do you propose to do to fix this mess of a treaty?" The tall man had finally lost most of his control. He collapsed onto a nearby chair, rubbing his throbbing temples. What should he do now? Katherine detested him, but he could not throw her away now. A treaty was the last thing on his to do list.
"Would you like a slice of our knowledge?"
"Yes." No star sighed.
"And I want your women."
"Unfortunately."
"Then let me explain…I do have an idea."