White Stag (Permafrost #1)(21)

She tensed, trying to judge if the offer was accepting weakness or even an insult. When she made her decision, she said, “That would be wonderful. But don’t tell Elvira and Helka, please. They think I’m useless enough as it is.”

“Of course. Come on, we shouldn’t wander so far away. We can find more on the way back,” I said, starting the trek back to the camp. The young goblin chattered the whole way, but the words went in one ear and out the other. From the bounce in her step and the way her liquid gold eyes lit up, she looked pleased that she had a friend in me. But she was a goblin. She was not my friend. I shouldn’t be feeling anything but hatred for this creature. But the more I tried to hate the girl, the more she grew on me.

My chest ached where my breast should’ve been. Remember what they are. They aren’t your friends or allies. They’re cold-blooded killers who want to either turn you into one of their own or kill you. The words in my head were spoken in my father’s voice—or at least the little I remembered of it.

“They can’t think you completely useless,” I interrupted, trying to keep my tone light. “They brought you along for the Hunt, after all.”

Rekke sniffed. “That’s because I’m my father’s heir, not her. If I wasn’t so young I’d be the ruler in my own right, but since I am she’s my regent. She likes the power and wants to get rid of the competition.” She fell in beside me, and we walked in silence for a while.

“Elvira could kill you herself or arrange for someone else to do it in her territory if she wants you dead.”

Rekke shook her head. “My father—her brother—preformed a bind curse on her a while back. He was older than her so he was the lord, but she killed him for his rank. Before he died, he made sure she couldn’t kill me by her own hand or word. So even though she ruled the manor, she couldn’t order or arrange my death. I think this is the closest thing she can get to it.” She sighed. “I miss my dad. He was so nice. He taught me everything. We used to play games in the courtyard when he wasn’t busy.”

“My father played games with me too,” I whispered. The dull ache returned to my chest. I hadn’t talked about my father in so long. Much less to someone who wasn’t human.

“What type?” she asked.

I had to think about it. “Well, when I was really little, he would take a piece of candy or a coin and hide it in a row of shoes. I had six sisters, so there were a bunch. I had to guess which shoe had the candy, and if I was correct, I got to keep it. When I was older, I mainly did hunting games and trained with him.”

She laughed. “That’s a weird game, but I like it. We had this pond, and my dad would challenge me to catch more frogs than him. Elvira had the pond filled in after she killed him. I suppose she’s ordered the guards to empty my room too; she obviously isn’t expecting me to come back from this.”

The hurt in the young girl’s voice was clear. Perhaps whatever you were, you loved your family in some way. Perhaps knowing you were being taken to your likely death was just as painful as knowing you were being taken as a thrall. I shook myself. Attempting to humanize them would only make this worse. I had to be strong enough to feel no remorse, grow no bonds, even if part of me ached to reach out to Rekke and touch her shoulder.

I was almost relieved to meet Soren and the others back at camp, throwing the two rabbit carcasses in front of them. Soren raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

“There’s not much here. It’s a dead land, if you remember.”

He snorted. “I remember well.”

Elvira turned to Rekke. “You killed one as well, didn’t you?”

“Um…” She fidgeted. “I…” Her face twisted in pain, the light that glowed in her eyes during our conversation sputtering out.

“Obviously not,” Helka hissed, glaring at the girl. “Soren’s whore can do better than you.”

Blood pounded in my ears. I am not a whore. “Don’t ever call me that,” I snapped. From behind me, a growl rumbled low in Soren’s throat.

“Sorry.” She grinned, showing her sharp teeth. “Lydian’s whore, then.”

“Helka,” I warned, anger burning through my limbs. Like Elvira, I was determined that Helka know I didn’t fear her, and that she couldn’t push me around. But if she went any further, I would explode. The thought that she knew what that brute had done to me boiled my blood.

“What? He did fuck you half to death, didn’t he? I’m surprised you’re still able to walk, let alone stand! And of course, he made lovely work of your breasts, though he must’ve liked one a bit too much, it seems.” Her voice grew vicious.

Soren’s growl turned into a snarl. Rape was a common use of dominance in goblin culture, especially among older goblins who used it as a show of strength and power. Rage boiled in my belly.

I stepped forward. “He liked it until he got a good dose of iron poisoning in his calf—and shoulder now.” Despite my bravado, the world was spinning beneath my feet. Don’t remember, don’t remember. Images of Lydian, his claws latched deep inside of me, flashed through my mind.

Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you listen?! He’d scream the words over and over until spittle ran down his chin and dripped on my face. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you see it! Don’t you see I’m trying to save you! Just answer my question! Over and over as he hurt me, used me, raving like a lunatic. What happens when the serpent stops eating his tail?