“Whoever this ‘we’ is,” Mom said, wetting a cloth and dabbing at a gash over Max’s eyebrow, “you’d do best to avoid them. As strong as you are in the Mundane world, there are forces here you would not like to tangle with. Believe me, I know.” Max snorted but wisely held his tongue. “If you insist upon gambling, you should employ a guard to accompany you.”
“Ma, I’m not a kid,” Max said. “I’ve been going to the market alone since I was twelve!” At that, Mom dropped the cloth. Too late, Max realized his error.
“Market?” Sadie asked innocently.
“Yes, Max, what market?” Mom prompted. Max visibly swallowed the lump in his throat; my brother might be reckless and irresponsible, but he knew better than to let a direct question from Mom go unanswered.
“The Goblin Market,” he mumbled. Sadie gasped, Mom squeezed her eyes shut, and I moved toward the safety of Micah.
“Please, explain to us why you found the need to patronize the Goblin Market at the tender age of twelve?” Mom demanded as she opened her eyes, holding Max in that gaze we all knew far too well. While that look remained, lying was not an option. Max opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unsure what, if anything, would salvage him after such an outburst. Little did he know that Micah would be the one revealing his secrets.
“Likely, that was where he met with Baudoin,” Micah said. Slowly, Mom rose to her feet, her head swiveling around so that the murderous gaze was now fixed on Micah. My elf was no longer the safest person in the room.
“What do you know of Beau?” Mom ground out. Behind her, Sadie sat heavily, gripping the table’s edge for support.
“Max has told us that he was in regular contact with Baudoin after the wars,” Micah replied, apparently unfazed by the fury boiling in Mom’s eyes. He was either remarkably courageous or had taken a blow to the head. “As you are no doubt aware, Maeve, the Goblin Market is an excellent place to meet while concealing one’s identity.”
Mom bristled but let it go. “Is this true?” she demanded, turning back to Max.
“Yes.”
I watched the emotions skate across Mom’s face anger and outrage and, lastly, hope. I couldn’t remember the last time hope shone in Mom’s eyes. Then she stood, yanking Max to his feet by his collar.
“Ma,” he began.
“I’ve heard enough from you,” Mom cut off, before turning to the rest of us. “Don’t just stand there gaping. Off to market we go.”
We walked in silence, Mom’s fury effectively muffling the sounds of our feet on the gravel path and, to an extent, the surrounding landscape. And since Mom had outright refused to travel by the metal pathways, it was taking forever to reach the Goblin Market on foot. Not that any of us were foolish enough to make that observation.
Max, the uncontested king of fools in both the Mundane and Otherworld, slunk along behind Mom, head hanging and shoulders hunched. Somehow, I resisted the urge to smack him. Barely. He could have told Mom about his meetings with Dad at any time since his rescue from the Institute, but no, he had been too busy with his harebrained plan to find Dad by gambling, boozing, and getting into public brawls. What was more, if Dad ever found out where and how Max had been spending his days, he’d probably box his ears.
And now, thanks to my idiot brother, we were trudging across the countryside, under the brightest, hottest sun imaginable, toward the Goblin Market. Everyone, Mundane or otherwise, knew about the market, where you could buy and sell anything, and I do mean anything. From roses bearing poisoned thorns to a past lover’s still-beating heart, all could be had, so long as you had the coins to trade.
I shivered, realizing how much that description sounded like the Promenade Market I’d frequented in the Mundane world. I hoped that no one’s head ended up on a pike today, especially mine.
Decapitation was far from my most pressing concern. Not only were we all about to sashay directly into this lair of evil, I didn’t have the slightest idea what was going through Micah’s head. Now he knew, in no uncertain terms, how I felt about babies, and he said that he still wanted me around, but… Don’t get me wrong, Micah was no liar. If anything, he was painfully honest. However, I was also painfully aware of the importance the greater houses placed on heirs, and how Micah’s lack of one was commonly discussed or, rather, ridiculed. Mind you, the Gold Queen didn’t have any living heirs, but everyone overlooked that piece of trivia. Being a recently freed and somewhat insane ruler did have that advantage.
Come to think of it, I don’t think Ferra had any heirs, either. What a turn of good fortune that was.