Goblin Ball Read Online Free Page A

One way led to her rooms, and the other to the tunnel down to the Bower of Elyse—Idris’s prison.
    She thought of him, caged and alone down there. Horrible, horrible. With no defense against the cold iron, by now the headaches alone must have driven him mad. None of her minions ever volunteered to check on him, so she didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.
    It was the blackguard’s own fault. Whenever she felt a twinge of pity, she reminded herself that Idris had built the cage for her brother. With a shudder, she extended her wings and flew on. As soon as she reached her oasis of tranquility at the edge of the court, she closed her eyes, inhaled the fresh woodsy air, and blew out the tension that had no business taking up space in her body.
    The wind whooshed through the trees overhead, and not for the first time, Cissa wished Idris hadn’t turned evil. The regent was better suited to the trappings of power—though he’d blown it with the actual wielding power part. If only he’d been good.
    If Idris had been good, he wouldn’t have stolen and hidden the fairy cup in order to prevent the rightful king’s accession to the Moonstick Throne. He wouldn’t have helped that wyrder Merlyn forge the oracle ring. Or trapped Boadicea in the abomination or led the Dumnos fae toward the dark.
    Dandelion would have had the crown safely on his head before he ever met Beverly and ran away to Mudcastle like a solitary.
    Cissa would still be a fairy princess, free to play, free from all this worry.
    She was never meant to be queen. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t very good at it. Every day all day it was the same thing: mitigate disputes. Keep the different fae folk from driving each other crazy. Leprechauns and pixies bickering. Brownies uninterested in tidying up messes or scribbling with scrolls. Goblins keeping more to their own kind than ever. Joyless sprites. Fairies driven more by desire than delight.
    Despite Cissa’s penchant for giving orders and issuing edicts, the faewood was falling apart. She wanted desperately to drive the dark influence from the Dumnos court. Though there were small successes—today’s resolution with Horace and the pixies was one—she couldn’t deny the faewood was in a state of low-grade chaos.
    Even Aubrey was going to rot, with an uncharacteristic disregard for his appearance. Cissa hadn’t seen the fairy in a shiny new outfit since… well, since his muse Idris had been imprisoned, now that she thought about it. And according to her minions’ reports, he was always lying about in some goblin byway, drinking jasmine stout.
    And speaking of goblins, Max! Her friend was more grumbly than ever. His sister Boadicea had been freed of the magic mirror that had been her prison only to spread resentment and discontent throughout the Blue Vale—Cissa’s minions had told her that much—bemoaning the gobs’ ugly state and reminding them of their lost beauty.
    The goblin bitch wouldn’t shut up about the curse being Max’s fault—and worse, that he’d turned down the chance to end it, because he wouldn’t offend Brother Sun and Sister Moon. Max had principles. Something Boadicea didn’t understand.
    Poor sweet Max. Cissa ran her fingers over the cloisonné decoration on her carved rosewood puzzle box. He’d made it for her ages and ages ago, just after her parents had been ambushed and murdered by wyrders.
    ”Oh, Dandelion!” She cried out to her absent brother. “How could you have left us? And to marry a wyrding woman!”
    Cissa had tried—truly—to get past her hatred of the wyrd who’d killed her mother and father, the fairy queen and her consort who, like all fae, were supposed to be immortal. Yet the wyrd had found a way to slay them, with enchanted quarrels delivered by crossbows.
    Of course Beverly had had nothing to do with that, having been born in an entirely different millennium. Cissa had tried to like her for Dandelion’s sake. She had failed at that, just as she