The steady strike of wood upon stone drew near, passed behind him, then faded as one of the sentries made his rounds, but Padric did not turn. There was only one person in the castle who could wrest his eyes from the freedom of the moon-bathed clouds, and she would come when she was ready. He fought the urge to seek her out, impatient for the solace she brought just by standing near, breathing.

The goblins thought him a king, and, having no tradition of courtship or betrothal, she was his queen. She held no power in their eyes, just a bedmate, a plaything, no more regal than a whore. To Padric she was neither queen nor harlot. She was a woman, gentle and soft; a smile, a smell, tangible and strong. He looked at her and saw the plough, the hearth, the stacks of cut turf, the simple aspects of mortal life once so reviled and now more desired than the embrace of her body. Padric was a farmer’s son. Svala’s father had been a fisherman.

They did not belong here.

The sounds of ringing metal resumed, bouncing off the stones of the great keep behind him, a chorus of screaming hammers. Padric clenched his teeth, but still did not turn. The goblins’ labors were as sickening to him as the source of their fire. Let them sweat over searing iron, shaping with hammer and tongs. They could not smelt the night nor shape the truth over the anvil. They could break their backs with work. It would not change who he was and who he was not. For now, in this moment, he was a king who could not sleep, standing a silent vigil on the walls waiting for his living lullaby.

His mind relaxed when she finally arrived, but he could feel a gentle nervousness running through his body. She was tall, so much taller than he had realized those first days. Torcan had heeded his command and provided her with clothing more suitable to Airlann’s climes. Padric knew her homeland was far colder, and he was more likely to die from chill than she, but the woolen dresses had given her something more than warmth. No longer was her head bowed, her eyes downcast. Like him, she was still afraid. They would be mad not to be. But at least now she could face the threats surrounding them with dignity. Padric had seen her supple flesh exposed in strumpet’s clothes, but he found her far more beautiful now.