The Goblin's Crown

Chapter Sixty Seven: Merry Midsummer

Demetrius' mouth opened and shut silently, words refusing to leave his tongue. Behind him, Lysander's lips tightened into a thin line. His stormy eyes narrowed and the muscles of his back seemed to tighten. "Don't do it, Demetrius." He warned. "She's bluffing."

"She just made father's head explode! That does not seem like a bluff!" Demetrius argued.

Lysander pushed past him, patting his brother on his back as he passed.

"What are you doing?" His mother cried. She grabbed a hold of his tunic, tugging him back towards her.

He planted his feet and met Mab's glare, his wings held out around him in an imposing display. "Were she really able to control Bran's power at will, we'd have all been dead for a very long time. There are limits to her control, I'm guessing. Am I right, Mab?" He asked, smiling crookedly.

"Stop this! You saw her make Bran kill him!" Titania pleaded.

"Make him? No, she didn't make him do anything." He glanced down at Bran. "She merely asked and he complied." At that, the boy's mouth twisted into a devilish smirk.

"Go ahead, Queen Mab," He held out his hands in a beckoning manner as if he were waiting for an embrace. "Make your boy kill me as he did my father if you truly have the power to wield him."

"Such arrogance." Mab chuckled, her lips peeling away from her teeth. Her wings mirrored his own as she unfolded them holding them out on either side of her form to their full splendor. "You should listen to your family if you value your life."

"Save it, Mab. You undermined your threats the moment you asked us to kneel." He held out his arms, beckoning her act. "Well? Kill me. What are you waiting for?"

So I hadn't been the only one to question the extent of her grip on Bran. I bit my tongue to keep a laugh from spilling out. Lysander was a clever lad.

Moving carefully, I climbed around the dome so that I was off to Mab's left. There I waited with bated breath, watching to see what would happen next. There was an iron dagger hidden in my boot. With my back pressed against the palace wall, I drew it out and retrieved the spare vial of poison from a pocket beneath my breastplate. I uncorked it with my teeth and poured it over the dagger's jagged blade, making sure to wet every inch of it. My muscles tensed as I prepared to launch myself forward. My mouth moved to mutter calling words to my goblins, orders to prepare to appear at my side. The moment I saw an opening, I would lunge for Mab and stick my poisoned iron dagger into her flesh. Afterward, once the Stoneblood had taken effect and she was completely helpless, my goblins and I would rip her apart piece by tiny piece.

Mab's arrogant demeanor faltered. Her grin fell into a deep scowl as her fingers readjusted themselves around her son's slender throat, squeezing harder until her fingers were dug into his skin. Once again, a finger tapped twice on the nape of his neck.

And nothing happened.

Titania and Demetrius released twin sighs of relief while Lysander's mouth spread into a victorious grin. His wings spread out wider, fanning his bright white feathers fully until his wings spanned wider than Mab's.

"Are you ready, Knut?" I whispered to both him and myself as I studied Mab. I listened for a reply but heard nothing.

I could see Mab panic. The muscles in her throat flexed and her wings fell back down, folding against her back. She wrenched Bran by the shoulders, twisting him forcefully around to face her. "Kill him." She demanded, her voice low and pleading. "Do as I say, Bran." Bran stared at her, his features unchanged. Beyond looking into her eyes, he didn't acknowledge her. Mab shook him hard, digging her fingers hard enough into his arms to leave bruises behind on his pale skin. "Kill him!" She screamed into his face, baring every tooth and fang.