Sorry this chapter is in two parts. I coaxed my injuried left pinky into a little more work. By the way H.G., I know it is Yeats...but I cannot seem to stop turning it into Yates...there is something mightly wrong with me I'm afraid.
The Goblin King stood, head canted, eyes laughing, but he said nothing. As always the monarch was dressed artfully. Olives and greys lent credence to his evergreen scent, the silvery hair spoke of light layers of crystal frost. A flash of red drew her attention to his graceful hands. They were the types of hands that a magician could envy. Long slender fingers sprouted from an unblemished palm. Sarah knew from experience that those hands could perform wonders as well as threats. She simply didn't know what to expect at the moment.
"That's my scarf." She said, eyes not wandering from the red garment.
"Is it? I snatched it from the East Wind. Would you like it back?" He extended the scarf to Sarah.
The woman nearly reached for it, but she was halted mid-grab by the flash of canine teeth.
"I'm not sure. What will it cost me?" She edged away from the grinning king, putting a few more comfortable feet of distance between them. She was starting to understand how summoning the king was not entirely a sane plan. What did she really hope to gain by this encounter?
As if reading her thoughts viciously merry sparks flashed in his eyes.
"What ever is the matter, Sarah?" His cultured voice was mocking. "Were you not expecting me? I am many things but inattentive is not one of them." His walk was that of an expectant predator as he clasped his gloved hands behind his back. Sarah had not noticed that the scarf was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh dear," he stopped turning his sympathetic face in her direction. "You didn't actually believe that I would hear you, that I would come." There was no mistaking the joy in his voice. It was a cruel thing.
Sarah found that her voice had dried up. The longer she stared at him, the more real he became. Pine and cinnamon still registered on the still air of the cottage. He was too solid, too alive standing under the wooden beams, the firelight caressing the sharp edges of his face. His presence was overpowering, he wa suddenly the only thing in the room that didn't seem out of place. The throw pillows and plaid blanket were ridiculous as was all the furniture. What were planks of wood and stuffed materials to a living breathing Goblin King. Did anything she have matter at all?
Fear-for the first time in years-she was afraid.
Briefly she wondered if he were like an animal, could he smell her fear? Taking a few deep breathes she tried to settle her nerves. He was watching her, enjoying her discomposure. The Goblin King knew he had the upperhand in this meeting, just as he had during their first. Sarah needed to level the playing field.
"Of course, I didn't think that you would come." Her voice shook only a little.
"Why not? Haven't I always done what you've asked of me? Am I not your slave?" His smile was so wicked that it infected his voice. "Do you not fear me, love me?"
Sarah nearly giggled with hysteria. She could handle this. He was the same mischievous Goblin King, she was the one who had changed. She didn't fear him, she feared herself.
"You're unbelievable." She shook her head. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
It was the Goblin King's turn to be caught off guard.