Page 2 of The Iron Raven

“Hmm.” The tall noble didn’t press the question. He observed me in silence for another moment, his face giving nothing away. “Do you know who I am, boy?” he asked instead.

This time, I nodded. “You’re King Oberon.” It was obvious; everyone knew who the Summer King was, though I’d never seen him in person. It didn’t matter. I had never seen Queen Mab, ruler of the Winter Court, either, but I was certain I would know her if I did.

“Yes,” the Seelie King agreed. “I am indeed. And I could use someone of your talents in Seelie territory.” He raised a hand, indicating me with long, elegant fingers. “You have power—raw, unfettered Summer magic rivaling some of my strongest allies in the court. Such a gift should not go to waste in the wyldwood. You should not be living in the forest like a beast, singing to birds and squirrels. You should be part of the greatest court in the Nevernever. What say you, Robin?” The king regarded me with eyes like pale green frost. “Would you like to become part of the Seelie Court?”

Part of the Seelie Court?

Curiosity battled defiance. I was intrigued, of course. Living by myself in the wyldwood meant I could come and go as I pleased, but it was getting a bit lonely. I wanted to talk to people, others of my kind, not just forest creatures and the occasional scatterbrained piskie. And of the two courts, Summer territory sounded much more pleasant than the frozen, hostile land of Winter.

Still, it was never a good idea to take the first offer. Even I, with my limited knowledge of bargains and deals, knew that much.

“I like it in the forest.” I crossed my arms and smiled at the king. “Why should I go live at the Summer Court?”

The Seelie King smiled, as if he’d expected that answer. “Because, Robin, I am king.” He spoke the phrase like it was the most important fact in the world. “And as King of the Seelie, I can give you whatever your heart desires. I can grant you power, wealth, the love of as many hearts as you wish.” He paused when I wrinkled my nose. “But I can see you are not interested in these things. Perhaps, then, this would be of note. I have many enemies, Robin. Both within the court and without. From time to time, these enemies need to realize that they cannot underestimate the sovereignty of Summer. If you join me... Well, let us say you will have plenty of opportunities to practice your magic on things other than common forest beasts.”

Nowthatsounded interesting. I glanced back at the pond, at the motionless bodies surrounding it. Poor dumb animals. I hadn’t meant to harm them, but it seemed normal creatures were very fragile. I would love to try some of my ideas on sturdier creatures, maybe even a few fey, and Oberon was dangling that big, bright carrot in front of me. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted. The only question was, did I care?

“So, Robin of the Wyldwood,” King Oberon went on, peering down at me from his horse. “What is your decision? Will you join my court? I will name you court jester, and you can play your tricks and practice your magic without boundaries. All I ask is that you do me a small service from time to time. Do we have a deal?”

Something nagged at me, a feeling that this agreement wasn’t quite what I thought it was. I’d made deals before, but they were with piskies and sprites and a couple local dryads. Never with someone as important as the ruler of the Seelie Court. Was I missing something? This did seem a little too good to be true.

I hesitated a moment more, then shrugged. Then again, why not join the Summer Court? What was the worst that could happen? I was aching for something new, and if I was under the protection of King Oberon himself, think of all the pranks and tricks I could play without fear of retribution.

This was going to be fun.

“All right,” I agreed, grinning up at Oberon, who raised a thin silver brow in return. “You have a deal, King. I’ll join the Summer Court, as long as I get to practice my magic and play as many tricks as I want.”

“Excellent.” Oberon nodded and raised both hands. “Then I name you Robin Goodfellow, jester of the Summer Court,” he announced in sudden, booming tones, and the branches of the trees shook, as if acknowledging his declaration. Lowering his arms, the Summer King gazed down at me with a sudden, almost proud smile. “Welcome to the Seelie Court, Robin Goodfellow. Wear your name proudly. Perhaps someday the world will come to know it as well.”

1

PUCK IN THE MARKET

Present day

Ilove the goblin market.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, the market is super sketchy and dangerous. Make the wrong deal, agree to the wrong bargain, and you’ll find yourself cursed or enslaved for a thousand years. Or under contract to give away your firstborn kid (not that I have any). Or in possession of a thing that wasn’tquitewhat you were expecting, in that it tries to eat your face off every now and again.

You can find anything in the goblin market. Need a potion that will make someone fall in love with you? There’s a vendor on every corner that will sell you one. Want to buy a lamp with a genie inside that will grant you three wishes? The goblin market has you covered; turns out genies aren’t quite as rare as everyone thinks.

What they neglect to mention is that the love potion you bought will make your target psychotically obsessed with you, and the genie will grant your wish in the most twisted and sadistic way possible, because that’s just what they do. And this isafteryou’ve bargained away your soul or your voice or your best friend. The prices at the goblin market are high—mostly too high—for anyone to pay without massive regrets.

So yeah, the goblin market equals dangerous. Dangerous, risky...and tempting. Because that’s the allure, isn’t it? What’s life without a little danger? And Robin Goodfellow never backs down from a challenge.

It was midnight as I strolled through the weed-covered gates of the abandoned amusement park, the grounds silver and black under the light of the full moon. Beyond the fence, I could see the rusted hull of the Ferris wheel silhouetted against the sky, looming over the trees. Straight ahead, an ancient carousel sat silently in the dirt, its once-bright horses flaking and chipped, paint and plaster scattered around the platform. An old popcorn booth rested close by, the glass shattered, all the kernels long nibbled away by rats or crows or roaches.

Pulling up the hood of my green sweatshirt I headed into the park.

The sounds and smells of the market drifted to me. Surrounding the carousel and scattered through the dusty yard, hundreds of tents, carts, booths, stalls, and tables of every size turned the flat, open space into a miniature labyrinth. Crowds of fey milled through the aisles, faeries of every shape, size, and court, from Summer to Winter to the wyldwood, as the goblin market was neutral ground and everyone was welcome as long as they could pay.

The vendors at the various booths came in every shape and size as well. A green, pointy-eared goblin stood beside a table selling dice sets of carved bone. A few tents down, a Summer gentry brushed her collection of cloaks, all made of leaves, feathers, or spiderwebs. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, coming from a spit with an entire boar spinning slowly over the flames, a lanky gray troll turning the handle. Its beady red eyes caught sight of me and widened, and its sinewy body straightened in alarm.

With a grin, I ducked my head and melted into the crowd. As fun as pissing off a troll could be, the aftermath would probably cut my visit to the market short. For once, I was just browsing, not on any official business, and I wasn’t ready to leave.

The ground under my boots became packed and hard as I walked down the center fairway. Vendors called to the crowd, hawking their wares: herbs and crystals, weapons and trinkets, dragons’ blood, hens’ teeth, hairpins made of sculpted ice, potions, magic beans, faery dust, and everything in between. I hesitated at a table selling beads that would turn into mice if they got wet, my brain spinning with hilarious ideas, but I shook my head with a frown.

Stop it, Goodfellow. You’re already in pretty hot water with Titania, I reminded myself.Making her tub explode with rodents while she’s taking a bath would get the hounds and the knights and those creepy spriggan assassins sent after you. It’sprobablynot worth it.

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