The Goblin's Throne

Chapter Thirty Two: Rebels

An older faerie greeted us with a big grin as we entered the old market. His age only registered in the feel of him, his aura, I suppose. His face remained that of a handsome man in his prime. His blue eyes were vibrant and sparkled with cheer and rich auburn hair curled loosely against his brow and strong jaw, but the perfect beauty of his people was lost to him. His right leg was twisted inward and was extremely thin as if there was no muscle there at all. He propped himself against a homemade cane. "Come in, come in, we were about to eat." The man hurried us in, letting Lysander pass inside then gently pushing me over the threshold where my feet wished to linger. Then he bolted the door, his hands shining with magic as he enchanted the lock, securing it even more.

"Welcome, Miss, what was it?" He asked me, tilting his head at me as he hobbled along beside us.

"Rather not say," I muttered.

The man chuckled at my glower. "Oh, you want to stay anonymous? I get that. There's a few here that go by aliases as well. Well, Miss Rather Not Say, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Hephaestus."

"Like the god?" I asked, remembering a particular human myth I'd read of. The blacksmith of the Greek gods, who was crippled much in the same way. He'd been tossed from the gods' kingdom by his own mother for his ugliness, for being less than perfect.

"You're familiar with human mythology?" The faerie gave me a funny look like he'd caught a glimpse of something he couldn't quite believe was there. 

I felt my skin go clammy as I realized I may have let my mask slip a tiny bit, hinting at the fact that everything the man saw in front of him was fake. I shrugged, "A little." I said in a nonchalant way. "I read a lot."

 The strange look passed and the man smiled cheerfully at me once again, or at least at the faerie he thought I was. "I have heard I made quite the impression the last time I visited the human lands, but as I said, some of us use aliases. Unfortunately, it's not the name my dear mother gave me." For a moment, that smile seemed to turn, like milk growing sour, curdling. "Like many others here, I have a family, a wife, children, some of which are adults now and are just beginning their lives. They remain loyal to the crown, whoever wears it. I'm acting alone and if I'm caught, I will give them that fake name. I'm a nobody so hopefully, they will not be able to trace me back to them." 

"I yanked on the back of Lysander's tunic, dragging him to a stop. "Where the hell have you brought me?" I hissed.

Hephaestus' cane's clacking on the stone floor came to a sudden stop. He looked back at us worriedly. "Everything okay?" He asked, leaning heavily against his cane. "You told her what we are, didn't you?"

"Everything is fine. Go ahead. We'll meet you there." Lysander assured him. Hephaestus nodded, gave me another small smile, then hobbled off. "Relax, " Lysander sighed, raising his hands defensively. "You're among friends."

"You brought me to meet Aurora's little rebellion, didn't you?" I shoved at his chest. He was like a brick wall. He barely moved. "I made it clear to her I wanted no part in it. I have no interest in meeting with my so-called sympathizers. I am not setting myself up for another betrayal, Lysander."

"I'm not asking you to trust them, Matilda. I'm asking you to trust me."

"Says a man who forced an unwanted kiss on me, like some spoiled, entitled brat." I seethed.

Lysander flinched. His feathers ruffled a little and his brow furrowed. He looked at me like a whimpering kicked dog. "I deserve that." He swallowed. "I get it, I was a royal bastard, but I am trying to make up for it now." He dropped his voice to little more than a whisper. "Matilda, even if there is a small chance that the people here can help you return home to your loved ones, is it not worth the risk?"