The Goblin's Curse Read Online Free Page B

from overwhelming her by using the rose quartz. It had been a life saver for her, literally.
    “When we’re done with the treeling, can we go up the lane to the bridge?” she asked Raven. “I want to see if the water sprite is still there.”
    “Sure.” Raven laughed. “You know, I always thought Water Sprite Lane was named that because it sounded medieval, not because there’s a real sprite.”
    The sprite had helped Keelie during the Red Cap’s attack, and she recalled her shock when she’d first seen the little creature’s fish-like face. She’d certainly seen stranger things since then … she’d even befriended another sprite back home in the Dread Forest.
    Ahead, she saw the tall aspen that spread its branches over the center of the meadow. Keelie ran to him. Hrok, I’m back.
    Greetings, Tree Talker. The forest sings of your return.
    The tree’s face pushed up through its bark, and Keelie once more saw Hrok’s handsome features. Inexplicable tears choked her. She hugged the tree and kissed his bark-covered cheek. Raven stood nearby, watching. Keelie couldn’t tell if her friend could see the tree’s face. Although Raven’s drop of fae blood allowed her to feel magic, Keelie didn’t think it extended to the tree spirits.
    She focused her tree speak so that only Hrok, not the other trees, could hear her. I came to say hi, and to check on … that place. How is the sapling doing? She glanced at a tiny tree that grew between Hrok and a great boulder. No grass grew beneath it, although the rest of the meadow was green. Raven headed toward it.
    Greetings, Tree Shepherdess. The treeling does not thrive as we had hoped. The bitterness of the goblin’s blood has tainted its rings. You have changed since you were last here, Keliel Tree Talker. You have grown in power. Hrok seemed pleased.
    A shriek split the air, heard only by Keelie and the fae who suddenly abandoned their bushes and hidey-holes to fly into the air—a humming, droning cloud of sticks and buglike creatures. One of the feithid daoine , the bug fairies, tried to dig into her jeans pocket.
    Keelie covered her ears and closed her eyes, as if that would help deflect the piercing sound that went on and on. After a moment she opened one eye and tried to find the source of the sound.
    Raven was touching the treeling’s leaves and examining its trunk. “This looks like a healthy sapling,” she called back, oblivious to the din.
    Keelie could barely hear her. She kept her hands over her ears, becoming accustomed to the brain-melting scream. It seemed to be coming from the little sprout of a tree that Raven was looking at.
    Keelie marched up to the sapling, wary of the soil beneath her, although it felt normal. What is your problem? she asked the treeling.
    The sound stopped, and the sudden silence was almost a sound as well. Keelie felt the young tree’s confused and angry thoughts, and a pang of guilt went through her. She’d stuck a lifeless branch into what she’d thought was nourishing earth, unaware that the blood that soaked the soil was poisonous and alive with energy. The little twig had revived and grown, but he had sucked up the goblin blood to feed himself.
    I’m Keliel, called Tree Talker, and I can help you, she said to him in tree speak. Are you hurt?
    No , the treeling shouted. I hate to be ignored. I can remember being powerful, but I’m not powerful now.
    That’s because you were once part of the Queen Aspen, she who was central to many of the trees on this mountain. When she died, we had a Tree Lorem for her near here, and one of her branches was given to me. I planted it, and you came to life. You probably share memories with the Queen Aspen. Do you not see me in her memories?
    Keelie felt the little tree pout, his anger deepening. “This is one furious tree,” she said aloud.
    Raven looked surprised. “Really?” She glanced around at the peaceful meadow. “Everything seems so normal now. What do you plan to