The Goblin King Read Online Free PDF

able to get home on her own. Somehow she’d have to convince the Goblin King to return her to her world.
    She slid out of the bed and left the bedroom. In niches carved into the tunnel wall, candles burned without melting. Their smokeless green-tinged flames were in an endless struggle to repel the dark. Shadows stretched toward her, to claim her, to make her join them forever. She fisted and flexed her fingers as she fought for calm.
    Eliza looked right and then left—to the voices or away? She pressed her legs together. She didn’t have the luxury of trial and error, and the quickest way to find the bathroom was to ask. Maybe she could just ask to go home. She straightened her back and lifted her chin, ready to face her captor again.
    The same men she’d already seen sat around a round table talking and gesturing. The Goblin King rubbed a dreadlock between his fingers as he spoke. He turned, beads and dreads swaying like glittering snakes, aware of her presence before he had seen her. The one with his long black hair tied back looked at her with curiosity, and the other—his beard threaded with gold—with empty eyes. All three wore torques like Celtic warriors of old, but only the Goblin King’s was gold.
    They waited for her to speak. Her request to be taken home became one word under their stares. “Bathroom?”
    “Second cavern on the left,” the king said in perfect English. He said something else in Goblinese to the others.
    Long Hair nodded and tossed a silver coin across the table to the Goblin King. Empty Eyes stared at her. The nothing in his gaze seared and chilled her as if an ice shard was lodged in her stomach. The man was already dead. He just didn’t know it.
    Eliza backed down the tunnel. Going home would have to wait until she had a moment alone with the king. Her heart hiccupped and her whirling thoughts spun out another set of problems. Could she face him alone? The memory of his weight over her, holding her down, was imprinted on her body.
    He’d let her go once. Would he be so generous a second time?
    The bathroom had a door but no lock. Eliza blinked at the décor— Vogue meets Stone Age. Pristine white fitting with gold taps and trim sat on a rock floor. Toilet, bath, shower, sink. The human-like goblins obviously needed to wash. The sink appeared to have plumbing, its pipes vanishing into the rock wall. Thick white towels were folded on a shelf, and toilet paper hung ready for use with the end folded into a hotel-style point. Eliza sat, grateful for some semblance of normalcy.
    When she finished she flushed and watched black oily water swirl, froth, and drain away.
    Normal wasn’t even skin deep here.
    Her gaze caught her reflection in an ornate gold-framed mirror. She paused and studied herself. Crumpled and bruised. Messy. There was a cut near her hairline, but green spread to her eyebrow in a garish addition to her smudged mascara. The grunge hostage look was sure to be a hit this summer. She examined the bump under the bruise but had no idea how it got there.
    She’d danced on the suits in the bath, tipped wine from a bottle on them as she’d cursed Steve. Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to force the rest of the memory to surface. But whatever had happened was lost. She turned on the tap to wash her hands, hopeful that the water would be clean and clear. It wasn’t.
    Even though she knew she should have expected the dark liquid that came out, she couldn’t help the stifled scream or the tears of frustration that pooled in her eyes. She would die in this cold corner of hell.
    The door opened.
    “I can’t wash in this.”
    The king walked in and scooped up some black water in one hand. In his palm it became clear. “Take some.”
    She hesitated. Once her hand was coated in the stuff how would it get clean? How did they wash in this ooze? How could the bathroom be so pristine, so white, so…new?
    Gritting her teeth, she cupped her hands together. Warm and slimy, the