The Goblin's Throne

Chapter Thirty Two: Rebels

I shook my head as I looked past him down the corridor through which Hephaestus had gone. It was dark and cool in the old building and it smelled of damp, like our deepest caves, reminding me painfully of home. But it wasn't. My family was not here. My goblins were not here. I'd been brought to a nest of vipers. "It's not just about me anymore, not even partially. Everything is about my sons. It doesn't matter to me if I die."

"Don't even say that," Lysander almost groaned in pain. He shook his head as if to rid his ears of my words. His dark curls danced from side to side at his brow. For once, the frightening power in his eyes was overcome by something else. A deep, cold, sadness. "It will never come to that."

"I don't care if I die, so long as my children are safe." I finished. "For most of them, their lives will already be short and for all of them, their ends will be violent and painful. I won't risk having them lose what little life they have because I want to go home. I won't survive losing another child." I knew exactly how true those last words were. I wasn't exaggerating one bit. I'd always been afraid of the next coronation, the day I'd lose my family and my happiness all over again. Now, after Magni, I knew without a shred of doubt that I'd lose my own life that day as well. There was no way, I'd be able to watch them bash each other's heads in and not plunge a knife into my own broken heart.

Lysander listened quietly, swallowing the words I could tell he wanted to shout at me. "Will you meet them at the very least? You don't have to agree to anything, just speak to them, let them see that you are a person, and not what you saw on that stage today. Let them meet the woman Aurora has convinced them to fight for. Talk to them, get to know them. You'll find they have much in common with you. They're old soldiers, farmers, beggars, criminals, people like Hephaestus that go against what our people are supposed to be. They're the forgotten. Just get to know them first, then you can make up your mind one way or another on whether they are sincere in their sympathy or not."

I clenched my jaw, feeling my belly do much the same as anxiety tightened every muscle. Make him trust you, the Empress of Iron whispered in my head, reminding me of my mission. To make him trust me, I'd first have to make it look like I trusted him. A bigger lie, I don't think I have ever told. "Fine," I muttered, folding my arms. "I'll meet them at least, but when I say I'm done, we leave."

"Thank you," Lysander sighed in relief. I strode on ahead before he could say anything more. I'd had enough of his speeches. 

Exiting the front hall, we entered a massive room where once people had set up stalls to sell their wares out of the oppressive sunshine and heat. Now, it was filled with dozens of people of various walks of life. A number of women were gathered around a pot where delicious smelling food was bubbling. They held their hands against it, heating it with magic to avoid filling the old building with smoke. One of the younger women's belly was beginning to swell with pregnancy. Most of them wore very simple clothing and carried themselves very differently than those I'd seen in the palace or even out on the street that morning. Their beauty was slightly dulled and a few of them like Hephaestus bore deformities that completely robbed them of their people's perfection. I noticed a group of men tucked away in a corner. They spoke softly and looked warily around the room. Their eyes were familiar. They each had eyes that had learned to spot easy targets in a crowd and looked at others like they were meals. The tallest of them glanced at me, giving me the same appraising look I'd given so many on the streets of London. "I've only just laid eyes on them and I've already spotted a few that I can positively say do not give two shits about me," I whispered to Lysander. "There's a group of cutthroats in the corner. Curiosity probably brought them here, but they won't leave without robbing you all of everything that's not nailed down." 

"We're aware of them, but even thieves have their purpose here," Lysander whispered back, giving the group a friendly wave as we passed them. 

Hephaestus ushered us over to the cooking pot. We sat with the ladies there. They gave us bowls full of some sort of stew. The thick red broth was spicy and the pieces of the white flaky fish inside were almost as delicious as Lysander's breakfast. I ate quietly, listening to the women's chatter for a while, trying to translate every uttered syllable in my head into either English or goblin. There were some faerie words that my native tongue just had no right word for. Finally, when my brain began to threaten to leak out of my ears, I turned to Hephaestus. "You said you had children?"