Page 34 of Apples Dipped in Gold

My smile faded at his question. I did not expect it to be painful, to remind me that I had not sung since my mother died and that I had not felt happy enough to even try.

“I haven’t in a long time,” I said.

“You sound so lovely when you speak, I am certain you must when you sing.”

“I am certain you are wrong, my lord,” I said, growing uneasy beneath his praise. I looked away, regretting it instantly when I found Lore staring. He had not moved, and he still seemed angry.

The half goblin must have noticed how I stiffened and followed my gaze. He turned back to me, our eyes meeting.

“Do you know the Prince of Nightshade?” he asked.

“We are acquainted,” I said, not wanting to disclose that I was in the prince’s debt. “But I would not say I know him.”

The half goblin studied me. I did not think he believed me.

“I am surprised he is here. He is not usually welcomed by the fae outside his kingdom.”

My chest tightened. “Why?”

“They say he talks to himself and hears things no one else can.”

“Is that all?” I asked, frowning. “It seems cruel to exclude him for something so…harmless.”

“Is the way he looks at you harmless?”

I didn’t know, though he had promised not to hurt me, so maybe it was.

“He is angry with me,” I said.

“That is not anger,” replied the half goblin.

Before I could ask what it was, a dwarf approached to whisper in his ear. The exchange was brief, but then he turned to me.

“I apologize,” he said, rising. “I have been summoned away.”

“Of course. Thank you for keeping me company.”

“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.

I hesitated for only a moment but accepted, his fingers clasping mine. He bent and brushed his lips across my skin.

“It was a pleasure,” he said. There was an intensity to his gaze that made me blush, and I watched him as he retreated toward the banquet table, though it was not long before my gaze drifted to Lore again. This time, however, he was gone. My heart began to beat fast and my ears started to ring, but before I could scan the crowd for him, a voice interrupted my alarm.

“I hope you did not give him your name, wild one,” said a familiar voice, though it startled me. I looked down to find Fox sitting stoically at my feet.

“He did not ask,” I said. “But why should I not?”

“Names have power,” said the fox. “You do not want to give away your power.”

I frowned. Another thing that required an exchange.

“Why are you here, Fox?” I asked.

“I should ask you the same thing, wild one,” he said.

“The dryads invited me,” I said. “They said all were welcome.”

The fox’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Did they tell you anything else, wild one?”

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