The water witch was very good at tracking people, for men never got very far in those parts without crossing a stream, and nothing gossiped like water, if you knew how to speak its language. She borrowed the swiftest horse in the village and rode until she found him.
But the water witch did not see the beautiful, golden fairy her daughter had slept with. She saw an ugly goblin with horns and fangs, riding along and laughing with his companions as if nothing had ever happened.
“You!” she cried. “You defiled my Keely!”
He turned. “Defiled? She very much enjoyed it.”
“A goblin? She enjoyed a goblin?”
“Well, I didn’t quite look like this at the time…” He snapped his fingers and produced a glamour, and now she saw what had turned Keely’s head. “But it was never my intention to hurt the girl. She was hungry for her first taste of it, I’d say.”
“You’re the young goblin king from the Green Caverns, aren’t you?”
“At your service, madam. We just like to have a bit of fun on Beltane.”
The water witch had never been so angry in her life. This young man had upset her precious, rather gullible daughter, and he didn’t even seem to realize it. They said the newly crowned king had been putting off taking a queen, having fun with the young women instead.
The water witch had not one shred of patience for a goblin trickster.
“You like the ladies, do you?”
“Ah, you can hardly blame him,” one of his friends said. “He’s been locked up with old tutors, teaching him swordsmanship and politics.”
“I am, after all, a goblin,” the goblin king said, unapologetically. “We’re meant to have a bit of fun.”
“I can blame him, and I shall. If you like women so much, goblin king, you will have more of them can you could ever imagine.”
The water witch began to cast a curse, a curse that went far beyond her usual skill with magic. Her rage fueled her, allowing her to tap into deep dark magic, and water swirled around her as lightning crackled, so that even the cavalier young goblin king started to back away, drawing his sword.
“I shall lock you in a prison of your lust!” she screamed. “Your subjects will tend to your every need but they will never speak to you or even offer you the warmth of their gaze! Meanwhile, you must make it known that you will rut with any girl who comes to your door and give her a gold coin for every night—as long as she is a human girl!” For the witch knew that no one found goblins uglier than humans, and she didn’t care much for humans herself. She didn’t want any other faery girls to suffer, that was certain. “You will be consumed with your desire every waking hour, and the only girl who can set you free is a girl who loves your true heart more than beauty or money—if you have a true heart, you dirty goblin.”
The goblin king spurred on his horse, trying to outrun her, but the curse had already taken hold. As soon as he reached his home, he found that all of his subjects had turned into objects, and a sensation of desperate desire was already sweeping over him, a desire which he was unable to ease, but he could not go past the gates of his holdings. All he could do was send messenger birds to the nearest cities, laying out the terms that the witch had set for him, pleading for any woman who could ease the ache in his loins.
But the witch had also underestimated how much the curse would take out of her. It was not enough to cast the curse, she had to go to the goblin king’s cavern and see how he suffered. She dove into the river and let her body transform into water, flowing to the Green Caverns. She was so focused on her revenge that once she got there, she realized she was trapped herself—not by a physical curse, but by fury. Because she could not let go of her anger, her anger held her in the goblin king’s river, and as the years went by, her fury increased. If ever a girl managed to break the curse, the water witch vowed to kill her.
I woke from my sleep in a panic.
The dream—
Who had given me such a dream?
If Nyar had meant to send it to me himself, he had not portrayed himself in the most flattering light. The young goblin king was, indeed, a trickster, to have used a glamour to fool naive young fairy maidens. I saw some of the Nyar I knew in the dream, but he had certainly grown with the years. I couldn’t imagine him acting the same way now.
If the water witch was the one to tell the story, that also seemed odd, because she was not the hero of the piece either. The vengeful witch had ruined her own life along with the man she hoped to punish.
There was one other person in the dream, and her fate was unknown, but the dream seemed like her memory, more than anyone’s. Keely?
I wondered what had happened to her, after her mother disappeared. Did she still live? She would be Nyar’s age, then, still fairly young.
This did make one thing clear—Nyar and the man in the coffin were one and the same.
I understand—I was right about the second test. If I had gone to Nyar’s beautiful form, I would have chosen his appearance over his mind and heart—and failed.
As soon as I got to my feet and looked to find my breakfast, my heart dropped to my toes. There was no breakfast, just a brown satchel—and a note.
Dear Sabela,
Your rose has wilted. You have made it this far. Please take my gold back to your family, with my well wishes.
—The Goblin King
The bag was packed with gold coins, and on top, buttered oatcakes tied up in a cloth. The water flask I had brought with me was here too, filled with water.
“No…no…”
‘The Goblin King’…not Nyar? What did it mean?
I didn’t pick up the money, but turned on my bare foot and ran down the hallways in my nightgown, calling Nyar’s name, calling for the goblins, but the whole castle had gone quiet. I almost sensed that they were mourning and could not bear to see me, although perhaps they were forbidden in any case. The rose was just a withered brown stem now. I was reluctant to go to the grotto, but finally it seemed my only option. The river was churning and splashing, and I could hear the water witch laughing.
You have failed, pretty human. Go home to your family!
“No!” I cried. “Why do you do this? Why are you still tormenting him this way?”
I will torment him until the day he dies. And I will be happy to send you to an early grave, if you come a bit closer…
I shied back, shaking my head, and ran back up the stairs.
Was this really it? Was it all over for me?
I returned to my room, regarding the bag of gold.
This gold would save my family’s fortunes.
Or would it? I wondered.
If my family was sensible, the gold would keep them in comfort for the rest of their lives. But they were not sensible, not content with ‘enough’. My sisters expected luxuries. They needed a regular income, not a sack of gold, which they would run through in no time.