Clara started sneaking out of her cell to steal things. Mostly candy. It was reckless and petty rebellion that failed to mollify her. It did not make her feel better. It felt, if anything, like a chore. A kind of penance. A task to remind her that she was herself, and her mind was her…
It was odd, the little things that changed. It was as if a switch had flipped when the Goblin Lord decided he’d be stuck with her for the long haul. Clara scrubbed the floors with old rag blankets and the soap he insisted was for flea-bitten horses. She scrubbed the tub and the toilet, and…
The Goblin Lord’s notes were less helpful than she might have hoped. The Winter Tongue had many more symbols than felt necessary, for many more sounds than felt practical. There were a number of spots where she could not tell if he had written a deliberate intensifier, or his ink had simply dripped, as the…
The room felt somehow more claustrophobic with the door open. Clara became hyper-aware at all times of what she was doing, of what he could see her doing. And he did watch. He would stand in the doorway sometimes, eating candy and watching her go about her business. What little business she had. Washing her…
“I’m going to start leaving this door open,” the Goblin Lord decided. Clara stared at him. “Having to get out of bed and unlock the door to jerk off is annoying,” he said, leaning in the open doorway. “I’ll leave it open so you may come when you’re called. If I catch you out when…
The Goblin Lord did not take the silk dress away from her. She guarded it jealously, didn’t leave it where any lesser goblin could take it while she slept. She washed it in the tub before she washed her hair, and sometimes wore it wet. Without laces to make it fit, it was shapeless and…
“You have guests,” the Goblin Lord said. Clara stared at him. “They call you Clara,” he added. Her name rang in his mouth, the R rolling on his tongue. She lowered her eyes to her knees on the floor. “Who?” “Human men, come to retrieve their lord’s lost toy,” the Goblin Lord said. “I have…
Clara categorized goblins by the animals they reminded her of. The green goaty ones, the orange catty ones, the brown owly ones. One of the goaty ones was the first she saw, what felt like later in the day. She didn’t know how long she slept after she washed a second time. She’d tried to…
Clara was going to die. Her mouth tasted like blood and bile. Everything hurt, pain throbbing every time her heart beat. Her breath coming in short gasps, feeling like her ribs had shattered inward to crush her lungs. Her left arm was limp and the fingers of her right couldn’t grip a dagger. Her legs…