The Goblin's Throne

Chapter Thirty Seven: Confrontation

 I wished I could sleep forever. Only there could I be where I belonged. Home in the dark, cool, underground, wedged between Knut and a bed full of small goblin children. Those dreams were so vivid I could feel the familiar, comforting coolness of their bodies, the softness of their hair against my cheek. I could hear my babies' soft breathing and my husband's incessant snoring. I could touch them, hold them. I was safe and warm and loved there in that place, that perfect dream. The morning came too soon, just as it always did, the blazing sun chasing away my dream world and dousing me in cold reality. 

I sat up with a groan, my vision tilted and blurry. My head throbbed painfully in protest against the bright light pouring in from the room's open side.  Slowly, my vision straightened and cleared and with it returned everything I'd wished the faerie fruit would erase from my memory. Heated kisses burning my lips, hands gripping me tightly, holding me down into the bed, a body crushing me beneath its weight, an unwanted joining. The proof of it all lay on his stomach beside me, with not a stitch or shred of cloth to disguise his perfection. Or hide what we had done.

The shame hit me so hard a rattling gasp shook its way out of my chest in a burst. My hands shot to my mouth, covering it tightly to keep in the mournful wail that wanted to follow as I recalled every excruciating second it took for me to commit the worst of my sins. With trembling hands, I grabbed a pillow and held it between them with clawing fingers. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to get rid of him even more than I had Jasper. I thought that I had prepared myself for this, but I couldn't even stomach the thought of having to sin with him again. If only he were human. It would be so easy to hold the pillow over his face until he stopped breathing. I brought the pillow up, leaning over him as if to do just that. I knew it wouldn't work, but the hatred boiling my blood still had me wondering how long it would take him to die if I caught him off guard. How long would I have before the leash around my throat killed me once his heart stopped beating? Probably not long enough to see his legs stop kicking. Lysander would kill me before Titania's spell even thought of tightening its noose. Part of me wanted to try anyway, but in the end, I lowered the pillow.

Carefully, I slipped from Lysander's bed, fleeing the room on wobbly legs. It hurt. Everything hurt. I went straight for the bath, the place where my fool plan had begun and submerged myself into the steaming water. Frantically, I slathered myself in soap and I scrubbed and scrubbed at my skin, turning it red and raw. I sobbed and shook. I couldn't get clean. I could see every mark he'd made on me, every stain his hands had left behind, leaving a testament of what I had allowed to happen, what I had welcomed and reciprocated. There in that cavernous room, I shrieked and howled and clawed at my hair, letting out every once of rage that threatened to rend what was left of my soul. 

I'd tried so hard to imagine Knut, to pretend that I was at home with him instead of stabbing him in the back like I was, but it hadn't worked. With every searing kiss and every stroke of his biting fingers, it was as if he were reminding me over and over again that he was not my Knut. He would not let me forget that.

Lysander was too different. Too awful. He might've looked like an angel but being with him had been exactly the wedding night I'd been afraid of when I was seventeen years old. Rough. Demanding. Impatient. Animalistic. If it were not for the faerie fruit to make it somewhat enjoyable, I would never have been able to sell the lie. I would've spent the entire time with my eyes squeezed shut waiting for it to be over. But even those few moments of pleasure only added to my shame.

I passed my rag over the bruises that splotched the skin on my hips and legs. Knut had the sharp teeth and claws but never once had he ever left a mark on me. That could tell you all you needed to know about the differences between he and Lysander and who was the better man.