The Goblin’s Power

This tragic fantasy story follows the adventures of a young goblin and the beautiful human girl who becomes her best friend. Tension rises as the girl strives to rise above her impoverished circumstances and the goblin comes into her power.

This story earned an Honorable Mention in the Writers of the Future contest.

***

As a little girl, I spent many long days out in the forest near our village, a wonderland secluded yet open enough to fantasize freely. That forest is where I met the goblin whose incredible power still haunts me.

The cherry trees were pink with fresh blooms that day, their sweet aroma thick in the air. Bees thrummed from flower to flower with slow determination as hummingbirds flitted in and out like thieves. I splashed through the creek, laughing as the icy glacier runoff sent shivers through my body. In my mind, I was a lost princess, and the prince would soon come find me and whisk me away to his castle where I would be the brightest jewel in all the kingdom.

I paused, lungs heaving, and cast a wistful glance toward Mirajia, the City of Kings. Its castle rose to the blue heavens, encircled by a high wall that no enemy, nor anyone so poor as me, could penetrate—or so I’d been told. I knew I would be a princess someday, and I would live in the castle. I’d imagined it too many times to believe it was impossible. “You’re already my princess,” Pa would say, but I just laughed and skipped away, dreaming my boundless dreams.

As my gaze drifted back down from the castle to the woodland before me, my heart leaped, for a small figure dashed behind the nearest tree.

“Hello?” I said, brushing aside a low branch and creeping forward.

A head peeked out from behind the tree—a forest green head with amber eyes, raven black hair, pointed ears, and jagged teeth. I gasped, and my eyes widened with fear; but the head took one look at me and tucked itself back out of sight, apparently feeling as skittish as I did.

Emboldened, I took another step forward. “I just saw you,” I announced matter-of-factly and shoved my fists onto my hips.

The creature eased into view, fidgeting with the sleeves of her frock, her eyes dancing timidly back and forth between my face and the ground. “Hello,” she said.

I examined her with a mixture of revulsion and curiosity. “What are you?”

She spoke quietly, as though ashamed. “They say I’m a ... goblin.”

This revelation struck me like an open hand, and I took a step back, my eyes trained on her suspiciously. “A goblin? Don’t goblins, like, eat children or something?”

The creature sighed. “Everyone thinks so,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “But I’ve never done anything like that.”

She looked sincere enough, and I began to think that maybe we could be friends. “What’s your name?” I ventured.

 “It was Monster, I think. That’s what everyone called me, anyway. But when Papa found me, he said that was all wrong and gave me a new name. So, now I’m Zinnia. I’m still getting used to it.”

 “Your Papa, you say?” I scanned the forest nervously. “So, there are more like you? Bigger ones?”

“No,” she said. “Papa’s like you. He found me in the streets and took me in.” She smiled with great pleasure as she spoke of the man. “He’s not afraid of me at all. He says I’m a treasure from heaven.”

If you were from heaven, you’d be prettier, I thought. Even so, I found her smile fairly charming, canines notwithstanding, and I was relieved to learn that no larger monsters lurked nearby. “Well, my name’s Adela,” I said proudly. “A name fit for a princess. Ma said so. You can call me Addie.”

Zinnia smiled. “You do look like a princess. Your hair is so long and pretty.”

Now, I knew we could be friends. “Thank you,” I said, then hesitated. “You ... well ...”

“It’s all right,” she said, and her shoulders slumped. “I know I’m not pretty.”

“Maybe you are!” I offered. “Maybe what’s pretty to humans is different than what’s pretty to goblins. Maybe to goblins, you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

Her face brightened for a moment, but then it fell. “If that were true, they wouldn’t have left me.”

“Oh.”

We stood in silence for a moment, studying each other and wondering what to say. Finally, I said, “Well, I’m waiting for the prince to come find me. What are you doing?”

“Playing with magic!” she declared, but then she covered her mouth with both hands and looked afraid.

“Magic!” I cried.

She shushed me urgently, waving her hands. “I’m not supposed to tell. Papa says it’s hard enough for them to accept that I’m a goblin. If they learn I can do magic, they may...” her voice fell to a whisper: “They may kill me.”

Eyes wide, I nodded rapidly.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” she pressed.

“Yes. Here, look—” I held out the little finger on my right hand and gestured for her to do the same; then I hooked our fingers together and rotated our hands until our thumbs touched. “There,” I declared. “The promise is sealed. If I tell anyone about your magic, my thumb will fall off.”

Zinnia gazed down at her hands in wonderment. “Wow, thank you.”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s how friends make promises.”

“Friends?” she said quietly, searching my face for signs of deception or mockery.

“Yes,” I said. “Now, show me your magic!”

“All right,” she said, grinning eagerly. A strange tingle crackled like sparks across my skin; and then, like the bursting of a bubble, she vanished.

“Whoa!” I squealed, jumping up and down and clapping.

“Quiet!” said the empty air, but there was delight in her voice.

“It’s amazing,” I whispered. “What else can you do?”

No answer.

“Zinnia?”

Total silence. Even the wind seemed to grow still. I began to worry that she might be monstrous after all, and now I couldn’t see her to defend myself. I imagined her jagged teeth sinking into my throat, imagined her reappearing over me, baring her blood-drenched fangs in a devilish grin as the light faded from my eyes. Shuddering, I took a step forward and reached out to feel for her. “Zin—”

A hand fell on my shoulder, and I yelped in terror. I wheeled to see Zinnia double over and fall to the ground, snorting with laughter. I couldn’t help but laugh too—a little. “Don’t do that!” I cried, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to bring her giggling under control.

My fists found their way back to my hips, and I did my best to look dignified and indignant. “Well, now you have to show me another spell. You owe me.”

She stood and brushed off her clothes. “I’m still learning. Meet me out here again sometime, and I’ll try something new.”

I thought for a moment, then said the only thing my rampant curiosity would allow. “Fine. I will.”

#

Pa came in from the fields that evening and stood over our water basin, scrubbing the soil off his weathered hands. “Emil returned from his pilgrimage,” he said to Ma.

Ma whipped her attention up from the dough she was kneading. “He made it? Really?”

“He did,” Pa said with an odd expression. “But he returned with ... something.”

“What’s a pilgrimage?” I asked.

“It’s a journey to the Holy City,” he said. “A long and deadly one. From here, a pilgrim must cross forest, sea, and desert to get there. They see many things that few are privileged to see. Some are even privileged to see what’s right in front of them.”

“Right in front of them!” I cried, giggling. “Anyone can see that.”

He smiled. “Maybe so.”

Ma walked over, frowning, and crossed her arms. “What do you mean, he returned with something?”

“It’s a little green monster,” he answered. “He says he found it in the Holy City, insists on calling it his daughter.”

Ma’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “He brought a monster to the village? And it lives right here beside us? Beside our daughter?”

He shrugged. “It looks that way.”

“No,” Ma said with grim determination, and she stormed out of the hut.

I sprang to my feet and ran after her, eager not to miss the drama. We rapidly traversed the dusty footpath through our village, the setting sun casting its golden light on the surrounding greenscapes. Sheep and goats grazed along the hills, their shepherds standing watch. Chimneys smoked, and the smell of fresh bread rose and fell as we passed our neighbors’ huts.

Ma approached a hut and slammed her fist against its door several times as though swinging a hammer. She struck so hard, in fact, that I expected the door to rattle straight off its hinges; but it soon swung open, and the gaunt skeleton of a man came walking out, his honey-brown eyes sparkling with perennial youth. “My friend!” he cried. “What a joy to see you again!”

As he was saying this, Zinnia slid out from behind him and said, “Hi Addie!”

Ma gasped, lunged forward, and shoved Zinnia away. “Stay away from my daughter!” she shrieked, snatching me up in her arms.

“I-I’m sorry,” Zinnia stammered, backing away, and her chin began to tremble.

Emil knelt to cup Zinnia’s face in his hands. “Don’t be sorry, my darling,” he said and brushed away the tear glistening on her cheek. “You never have to apologize for kindness.”

Nodding, Zinnia took a deep breath and gathered herself, then slipped behind the man’s leg as he rose to address Ma again. “You have a daughter of your own, so surely you know I can’t tolerate this treatment of mine. If you cannot be kind to her, then you’re not welcome here. Not from any ill will, understand—but from love. She’s very precious to me.”

“Oh, just listen to yourself,” Ma said. “That monster is not your daughter, and you know it!”

The playful sparkle in Emil’s eyes ignited into something more like fire. “Odd, isn’t it? You call her a monster, and yet all I’ve seen today is one offering kindness and another inflicting wounds without cause. What does it take to be a monster, I wonder?”

Jaw clenched, Ma growled, “Just keep that thing away from my daughter, or there’ll be trouble. Serious trouble.” She turned, still holding me, and started home.

Behind Ma’s back, I cast a furtive smile toward Zinnia and waved goodbye. Leaning out from behind Emil’s leg, she smiled and waved back, and I found that I liked her very much.

Back home, Ma’s eruption would have frightened a volcano when she learned that I’d already played once with Zinnia, and she strictly forbade me from ever talking to her again. Pa laughed and snuck me a subtle wink. “Have some wine and relax,” he said to Ma, who was pacing around like a caged lion. “The creature can’t be that bad, or she would have hurt Addie when they were alone. Emil’s no fool. If he says she’s harmless, then I’m sure she is.”

Ma would hear none of it and reiterated the strict command that I stay far, far away from the green monster. Unprepared to lose all hope of friendship with Zinnia—or, for that matter, my thumb—I never mentioned her magic.

As the weeks passed and no huts were burned down nor anyone torn to pieces, Ma did relax, or at least became preoccupied with other, more pressing matters. The fields still needed tilling, the laundry washing, and the livestock feeding, so we eventually stopped fussing over Emil’s goblin and resumed our lives.

Meanwhile, Zinnia’s power was rapidly growing.

#

Eventually, I returned to the forest in search of Zinnia. I hiked straight to the tree where we first met, but she was nowhere to be seen. Spring had given way to a muggy hot summer, and as I stood there with sweat tickling my neck, I decided to head out to the river bend for a swim. The closest I ever went to Mirajia was the bend, for my parents warned of terrible danger beyond that—of trolls and ogres, ghouls and gremlins. Then again, Ma thought Zinnia was dangerous, and I felt certain that she was wrong about that. I began to wonder if my parents saw danger where there was none, if perhaps I could ignore some of their dramatic warnings.

Approaching the river, I stepped in among the reeds, my nose crinkling as the mud squished between my toes. I paused to imagine myself bursting like a mermaid up out of the twinkling water, and I would look up and see the prince standing on the shore, and he’d be enchanted by the very sight of me and reach down to lift me out of the water and into his royal life.

Lost in such dreams, I almost didn’t notice the familiar tingle crackling across my skin—the tingle of magic. With a jolt of excitement, I wheeled around to find Zinnia standing behind me, smiling. “I thought you might never come back!” she cried and rushed forward to hug me.

“Did you learn any new magic?” I asked as we separated. “I gave you lots of time to practice.”

“Oh yes,” she said, grinning. “Here, sit down.”

We sat cross-legged in the mud, and she snatched up a smooth stone from the riverbank. She held the glistening wet thing out in the palm of her hand and extended her other hand over it. An intense tickling sensation, like being prodded by pine needles, suddenly overwhelmed me from head to foot.

“Zinnia,” I said, squirming and laughing. “What are you—”

I gaped at her hand in disbelief. The tickling had dissipated as rapidly as it began, and where a stone had been before, there was now a spider—a big one. She lowered her hand and let it scuttle off into the reeds.

“Ew!” I cried. “Don’t you have anything less ... creepy?”

She smirked. “Maybe. Watch this.”

She closed her eyes and held out her hands, palms up. A flurry of multi-colored sparks appeared, circling her and blinking like fireflies, and I began to feel very calm and peaceful, as if the entire world was conspiring to bring me happiness. Mesmerized, I didn’t notice the sun bear until its breath ruffled my hair and its slobber dripped onto my ear.

With a cry of alarm, I lunged into the shallows in a wild splashing scramble. I froze and held my breath, but the bear simply regarded me with a dull, bored look. Zinnia laughed and turned to the reddish-black monstrosity, ruffling its ears like a giant dog. “They think we’re monsters, don’t they?” she said sweetly, and the bear nudged her with its nose. “But no, we love being loved just like anyone else.” She kissed the top of its head. “Go on, then,” she said, and slapped its rump. The bear grunted, then lumbered slowly back into the forest.

“Amazing,” I whispered.

“Papa says I should learn my powers and practice every day, that way I can protect myself from the ones who are afraid of me. He says their fear makes them dangerous. He even gave me a spell book, and he’s teaching me to read.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “Then what else can you do?”

“I’ve already learned a lot,” she said, beaming. “I’ll show you.”

Thus began our forbidden friendship. As often as I could, I snuck out to the forest to play with Zinnia. Often, she showed me new magic she was learning—drifting weightlessly across the air; passing through trees like mist; enchanting the treefrogs, tigers, herons, and hedgehogs into joining our make-believe games. In our favorite game, I was the radiant queen, and she was my revered sorceress, and people traveled from all over the world to witness my beauty and her power.

They were the happiest days I’ve ever known.

#

By age fifteen, I had abandoned all hope of snagging the prince and living in Mirajia, though I did, to my embarrassment, still dream about it sometimes—as in, daily. But no one had to know that, and I still had plenty of things to fantasize out loud about.

“Don’t you ever dream of having more?” I asked Zinnia one morning, lying face-up on a mossy boulder in the shade of the forest. Zinnia sat cross-legged in the grass beside me, magically plucking pebbles from the mud and sending them to levitate over the creek before dropping them in with little gargling plops.

Zinnia had been my best friend for nearly eight years now, and she’d grown used to my tireless longing for greener pastures. “I once dreamed of family and friendship,” she said. “Now, I have both. What more do I need? Fame? The adoration of strangers from afar?” She waved her fingers to catapult another floating pebble into the creek as though to discard such trifles. “Fortune? The accumulation of cold, soulless treasures and the cold, soulless friends who leech onto you when you have them?” She discarded another pebble. “My spirit doesn’t hunger for such poor and petty food, and although you don’t know it yet, neither does yours.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said, fixing my eyes on Mirajia. “At least you have magic. What do I have? Oh, what I wouldn’t give just to see the city up close.”

“I lived in a city before Papa found me,” Zinnia said. “It’s nothing special. People just garnish themselves like peacocks and eat too much. Beneath their costumes, they’re just like you and me, only frailer.” She reached out to pluck a cherry blossom and bring it up to her nose. She inhaled, then closed her eyes with a tranquil smile. “This forest, these moments ... no amount of fame or fortune will get you a single step closer to such delights.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “But don’t you at least want to see Mirajia? Just walk up to the wall and, you know, poke it?”

“I haven’t given much thought to poking Mirajia,” she said, laughing. “But you’ve always wanted to see it.” She stood and nodded toward the road. “So, let’s go.”

I tilted my head, confused. “What are you saying?”

“You want to see the city. So, let’s go see it.”

I laughed nervously. “I’ve been talking about this for years, and you’ve never suggested actually going.”

She smirked. “Yes, well, maybe you’ll shut up about it once you’ve seen how dull it is.”

With a rush of thrill, I hopped down off the boulder and took hold of her hands. “Do you really mean it? Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Of course not,” she said, grinning. “Do you?”

“Not at all.” I paused, then squealed with laughter. “Let’s go!”

#

We left the forest and cut through the rice fields, our feet sinking into the damp soil. Soon after, we reached the road and crunch-crunch-crunched our way rapidly down it, moving with the kind of urgency that came from knowing we’d second-guess ourselves if we paused to consider what we were doing. Better to do it first and think about it later, otherwise it would never happen. My feet were throbbing and legs burning by the time we reached the old stone bridge that crossed the river.

Urgent or not, we had to pause at the bridge to catch our breath. A cool spring wind came rustling in from across the river and brushed pleasantly across our damp skin. As I stood there panting with my hands propped on my knees, I noticed a bronze plaque affixed to the bridge with an inscription carved in elegant, sweeping letters: Pay the toll or slay the troll.

Zinnia noticed it at the same time. “A troll?” she said, glancing around nervously.

“You know something about trolls?” I said.

“They’re big,” she answered absently, her bright keen eyes carefully scanning our surroundings. “Immune to most spells. Ravenous. Smelly. Only the most adept sorcerers can handle trolls.”

“Oh, good,” I said, relaxing. “You’ve been doing magic for years.”

She laughed. “Me? Apprentice-level at best. If a troll comes after us, we’re getting boiled alive.”

So much for relaxation. My breaths became quick and shallow, and I grew faint. “We should go back, then ... shouldn’t we?”

“Perhaps,” she said, craning her neck for a view of the bridge’s underbelly. “Although, I don’t see any footprints or smell any carcasses or anything. I wonder if that inscription’s just to deter villagers from approaching the city.” This thought seemed to irritate her, and I saw a familiar spark ignite in her eyes. “Look, Mirajia’s so close. It’s right there, just beyond the wildflowers. Let’s keep going.”

“All right,” I said slowly, cautiously. Not to be outdone by my friend, I then added more definitively: “Yes. Keep going.”

We crossed the bridge and meadow without incident, disturbing only a few butterflies along the way, and soon found ourselves standing in the shade of the castle wall.

“Unbelievable,” I breathed, gaping up at the battlements. “I can’t imagine what it must have taken to get those enormous stones stacked so high!”

Zinnia huffed. “It’s called slavery,” she muttered.

As I stood there in awed silence, there came a sudden booming voice with all the force and volume of a band of war drums. I pressed my hands against my ears to block out the painful noise. “Who dares enter my domain?” it thundered.

Zinnia sprang forward, hands raised, ready to protect me. I felt magic tingle across my skin, but a sharper, more biting magic than I had ever felt. With a snap, someone appeared in front of us—a creature with skin like silvery pale moonlight, eyes like emeralds, and long, pointed ears. He wore the finest silk clothing, sky blue, and the moment he appeared, he began skipping in a wide arc around us and singing:

Crafty wafty trespassers

Crept up to the gate.

A peasant and—a goblin? Yuck!

I wonder what they’ll say.

Zinnia dropped her hands and eyed the newcomer cautiously. “You’re an aelf, aren’t you? Of the Ephemeral Vale? Why would you be here of all places?” She looked and sounded uneasy, possibly even afraid.

The creature skipped forward until his nose nearly touched Zinnia’s. She tensed and became very still but made no attempt to resist or flee. “Why not be here?” he said, giggling. “And shouldn’t you be off in some hole, gnawing thighbones? What are you doing out here with this tasty sapling?” He turned and looked me up and down as though appraising a goat. “Wash her up, pluck the detritus out of that frizzy mane, and I might even call her cute.” I felt my face and neck flush pink as he returned his attention to Zinnia. He leaned forward and sniffed her neck. “What power I sense in you,” he whispered cravingly. “What fun we could have together! We could marry. We could take over the kingdom. We could fight to the death. Such possibilities!”

Zinnia clenched her jaw and swallowed but otherwise remained still. Definitely afraid.

Another voice broke in from nearby. “Stop harassing our guests, Hob.” I turned to see the most stunningly handsome boy I had ever seen strolling toward us from the gate, his steel-plated armor glittering in the sunlight, undamaged by any battle. He had long, golden-brown hair, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw.

“What’s the point in having guests if you can’t harass them?” the aelf countered, stepping back from Zinnia.

The boy strode past Zinnia and stopped right in front of me. “I heard the rumors but never believed them. You do know that goblins aren’t allowed in the kingdom, don’t you?”

“She’s my friend,” I said, crossing my arms defiantly. “And who are you to say what is and isn’t allowed in the kingdom?”

Hob burst into laughter and began to dance again. “Feisty as a freshly bathed kitten, she is! Curiosity killed the cat, and ferocity felled the kitten!”

“I,” the boy said with grave self-importance, “am Prince Leoric, heir to the throne. And who might you be?”

“I ...” Humiliation stole my words.

“Her name is Adela,” Zinnia said proudly. “A name fit for a princess, don’t you think?”

“She is ... very beautiful,” the prince said, not taking his eyes off me and looking almost confused. Part of me wished I could burrow into the earth and hide, while another part of me wished to pose confidently before the royal son and captivate him with my effortless grace. What I actually did was stand there blushing in silence. Leoric sighed. “Well, at any rate, you can’t be here. Go home before the guards arrest you. And if they see you,” he turned to Zinnia for the first time—“they may well take your head for a souvenir.”

“We’ll go,” said Zinnia. “But know that our village is east of here.” She gave a sly grin and added, “Across the troll bridge. So, when you start daydreaming about the beautiful girl beyond the wall, you’ll know where to find her.”

“Bravo!” Hob declared, clapping, then reached out to pinch Zinnia’s cheek. He spoke his next words in a high, singsong voice as though to a pet: “Such a loyal green aberration.”

Zinnia slapped his hand away, evidently no longer afraid. “Farewell to you both,” she said, then took hold of my arm and started us back toward the village.

“Farewell, my kittens!” Hob called out.

At first, I was speechless, and we walked in silence. But then I was flooded with such a paroxysm of joy that I grabbed Zinnia’s hands and began jumping and squealing. She joined in, and we stumbled and fell, rolling and laughing amidst the wildflowers.

“Can you believe it?” I cried as we came to rest on our backs side-by-side. “The prince said I’m beautiful! Me!”

“We always knew he would,” she said, smiling over at me. “Now, let’s go. We shouldn’t be out after dark.”

We scrambled to our feet and frolicked home, full of sunshine and laughter.

It was the beginning of the end.

#

Less than a week after our foray to the castle, a herald galloped into our village on an immaculate white horse, withdrew a scroll from beneath his crimson tabard, and began to announce in a high, formal voice, “On behalf of Prince Leoric, heir to the throne, I come in search of Adela the ... Peasant?” He coughed a cough so dainty that it couldn’t have possibly cleared his throat, then repeated with more confidence: “Adela the Peasant!”

“What’s this about?” Ma said, turning away from the window to scowl at me. “What have you done? It’s something to do with that monster, isn’t it? I always said she’d be your downfall someday, but did you ever listen? Of course not. What’s going on?”

Though panic was surging through me like a storm, I simply shrugged and said, “I have no idea.”

Pa did his best to appear calm. “We can’t ignore an inquiry from the throne. If we try, they’ll only question our neighbors until they find us. Come, Addie. We’ll face this head-on, and we’ll do it together.”

I soon found myself trembling before the herald. “This is Adela,” Pa said, standing a little in front of me. “My daughter.”

The herald brushed Pa aside and peered down at me. “She is rather beautiful,” he seemed to admit to himself, then added, “Prince Leoric requests your presence at the royal feast tomorrow evening. Indeed, he most vehemently insists upon it, will not be dissuaded. As such, you are hereby ordered to attend. Arrive early to the castle, for we will undoubtedly need to ...” the herald looked me up and down in something like disgust—“prepare you.”

With that, he muttered, “She’s not even wearing shoes,” wheeled his horse away from us, and galloped away.

Pa stood staring in the distance long after the herald was gone and the dust in his wake had settled.

“Pa?” I said.

He turned to me with a blank expression, like one stunned by a blow to the head. “How did they ... What made them ...”

He fell silent, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I may have stumbled upon Prince Leoric outside the city gate a few days ago,” I said. “And he may have said I was beautiful.”

“What!” Pa cried, reaching down to grip my shoulders and gape at me in open-mouthed disbelief. Before I could say anything, he dashed away to tell Ma.

I dashed off in the opposite direction, for there was only one person I simply had to see.

“Zinnia!” I cried as I burst through the door of her hut, startling her into spilling some of the broth she’d been feeding Emil from a steaming bowl. The room, though tidy and well-kept, smelled of chicken broth and illness. Emil, for his part, lay in bed looking half dead, his head and shoulders propped up on a pillow. “Oh,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. How is he?”

Emil sat up with a groan. “He’s well enough to hear you speaking as though he’s already gone, young lady. Would you like some soup?”

“No, thank you,” I said in a rush. “Zinnia, listen! The prince summoned me to the castle tomorrow!”

Zinnia set down the bowl and ran to me, beaming with joy. “I knew it! I knew he would love you! When do we go?”

The question took me by surprise, and I stammered, “When do ... we ...?”

It seemed a small thing, my hesitation, but the effect was anything but small. The smile instantly fell from Zinnia’s face, and all that remained was an icy hard glare. “I’m sorry,” she said brusquely. “I meant to ask, when do you go.”

“Look, Zinnia, I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she cut in. “I know I make people uncomfortable. I’ve always known that. It’s not your fault. I don’t like cities anyway.” Her words were gracious, but my friend—the real one—had retreated far beneath the surface. What she put forth now was only armor.

Emil approached Zinnia and kissed the side of her head. “She loves you,” he said gently. “You know that. Don’t shut her out.”

“I’m not shutting anyone out,” she snapped, then gave me a thin smile. “I’m very happy for you. Please do let me know how it goes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She walked quickly out of the hut, leaving me alone with Emil.

Emil turned to me, and I was surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes. “You’re the only friend she’s ever had, Addie. There’s no one else, and I’ll be gone soon. Riches come and go, but the friendships that give your soul a home—those can’t be replaced.” He grew stern and serious. “Hold onto her, Addie. She’s a rare treasure.”

“I will,” I said with a weak smile. “I promise.”

#

Outside Emil’s hut, Zinnia was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, she’d run to the forest, the same place I always found her when she was hurt. Normally, I would have gone out to her immediately, but I had to talk with my parents first.

Ma greeted me at the door with a broad, joyful smile. “The prince!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful!”

Pa, who sat beside the hearth carving a spoon, looked less enthusiastic. “Are you sure you can trust him?” he said, laying aside his project.

“Oh, please!” Ma said. “Of course she can trust him. He’s a prince! Just think of the jewels and dresses and delicacies, such luxuries as we’ve never dreamed of. Leave it to a simple brute like you to trust a monster more than a prince.”

He grunted. “That so-called monster has never been anything but kind to our Addie, and I know nothing of this prince except that he dwells amongst the pompous elites who oppress us every day. I work my hands to blisters, then watch their guardsmen come and carry away food they never lifted a finger to grow. They call it taxation. I call it robbery. What do they offer us in return? Nothing. And the prince is one of them.”

“Ignore him,” said Ma, waving her hand dismissively. “You’ll go, won’t you? Tomorrow?”

“I suppose so,” I said, easing into a chair beside Pa. “I upset Zinnia pretty badly today when I told her about the prince. Maybe I should work things out with her before I go.”

Ma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If she really cares about you, then she’ll want you to be happy. Don’t throw away your chance at a better life just to appease her jealousy.”

Pa darted a grumpy glance at his wife, then back to me. “She’s your best friend, Addie. She’s always been there for you. You can’t just discard her.”

Ma put her hands on her hips and glowered at Pa. “But you’d have Addie discard her life’s dream just to coddle her weak friend? Of all the times for you to be so unreasonable!”

Pa shook his head scornfully. “Just ask yourself what’s right and do that. I’m done talking about it.” He snatched up his half-carved spoon and continued working on it.

Ma gave me a playful smirk as though to say, “What a grouch!”

Giddiness overcame me, and I burst into laughter. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s really happening.”

“Yes,” Ma said with a bright smile. “It’s really happening.”

#

The next day, I crossed the troll bridge and reached Mirajia soon after sunrise, too eager to sleep. The guards detained me, refusing to believe that I’d been summoned by the royal family. They kept me in custody until the prince arrived.

“Release her immediately,” Leoric said, and the guard stepped sharply back, looking stiff as a plank.

Hob peeked his head around the corner, then came dancing into view. “The peasant returns!” he declared, clapping his hands. “But where, pray, is that intriguing reptile of yours? We were certain she’d join you.”

“She chose to stay back,” I said, feeling sick with guilt. I’d wounded my dear friend for no reason.

“Rejected by a goblin,” Hob muttered, shaking his head with exaggerated bewilderment. “My, my, my—if our grand kingdom be so unappealing, if she deters even the goblins, oh goodness me, she must be uglier than we knew! She must be the wart-nosed witch in the guise of a fair maiden, the pebble disguised as gold, the—God help us!—the nightingale who’s really a chicken! Oh heaven! Oh hell! Oh purgatory! We’re—”

“Are you quite finished?” Leoric said.

“Quite,” Hob answered with a grin, and then he vanished.

“As you can imagine,” the prince said, “that aelf is quite the nuisance. Two years ago, he turned my mother—the queen, mind you—into an exotic bird, then disguised himself as my father and sold her to a traveling merchant. It took them weeks to clear up the confusion.”

“Oh my,” I said, covering my mouth and trying not to laugh. “And yet he’s ... still here?”

“Yes,” the prince grumbled. “Aelfs are very wise, very powerful, and, most importantly—very expensive. It takes more than the occasional prank to get them banished. Believe me, we expected our Royal House Aelf to be more dignified, and perhaps some are. Then there’s Hob.” He reached out to take my hand. “At any rate, shall we?”

From one incredible place to the next, the prince led me on a tour of the city, a sparkling masterpiece of art, architecture, culture, and cuisine; a world I had longed to see for so long, and it was far more than I had imagined. Even flooded with this array of wonders, guilt nagged me at every step. I sampled a pastry with strawberry filling, and as I licked the sweet stickiness from the edges of my mouth, all I could think was how much Zinnia would have liked it. I stood before the towering marble statue of some ancient king and wondered if they might make a statue of me and Zinnia someday, the radiant queen and her revered sorceress. Without Zinnia, I kept these thoughts to myself, for she was the only person I had ever dreamed freely with. At the royal banquet, I enjoyed the finest fruits, meats, and wines that I had ever tasted, wishing all the while that I could share them with my friend.

“This has been the most amazing day,” I told the prince after the banquet, “but I should head home soon. Nightfall is coming.” I couldn’t wait to tell Zinnia all about it.

Leoric studied my face with a look of amusement. “Home?” he said. “I’ve prepared a room for you in the castle. Wouldn’t you rather stay?”

His question thrilled and confounded me. My mind rushed immediately to Zinnia, who remained hurt and alone. I recalled Emil’s words—“Hold onto her, Addie. She’s a rare treasure.”—and my promise to do just that.

Yet here was my dream, now within reach, and could I deny it?

With a pang of sorrow, I made my choice. “I would be honored to stay,” I told the prince and kissed his cheek. He smiled his flawless smile and led me to my room.

#

In the days that followed, the royal family assigned me a lady’s maid to ensure that my manners and appearance were kept in check—no easy task, apparently. Often, she would be scolded for some indiscretion on my part, and she quickly came to despise me, though I always did my best to treat her kindly. I just couldn’t seem to shed the evidence of my upbringing, and it seemed that no matter where I went and no matter how dolled up I was, everyone could tell I didn’t belong. They smiled their condescending smiles or openly sneered, and everywhere I went, I felt like the words “village tramp” were stamped across my forehead. Never had I felt so ugly and unwanted. Even Leoric wasn’t exactly the Prince Charming I’d first imagined, but his lukewarm affection would have to do. Let them turn up their noses, I decided. So long as the prince wanted me around, I would stay.

Much as I tried not to think about Zinnia, I often did. I hoped she was all right, but I worried that she wasn’t. I wondered when I might see her again, but it was far too long before that moment came. By then, the damage was already done.

#

Some weeks after moving into the city, I was meandering through the royal garden when a familiar tingle crackled across my skin.

“What do you want, Hob?” I said, looking around but not seeing him.

A puff of air kissed the back of my neck, startling me half to death. “Show yourself already!” I growled.

“Have you heard the news?” the aelf said, materializing in front of me with that wild grin I so detested. Despite his eminence, I never felt safe with Hob, especially not alone. He seemed always one whim away from turning me into a mouse just to watch the cats chase me. It frightened me to see such chaos married to such power.

“What news?” I asked.

“Well, have you heard it?” 

“Obviously not,” I snapped.

“Your village is under attack,” he said, giggling.

“What do you mean? By whom?”

“Who knows?” he said with a shrug, and then he vanished.

I sought out the prince immediately and found him with his soldiers in the great hall, examining a tabletop map. “Is it true?” I said, interrupting whatever he was telling them. “Is my village under attack?”

Leoric sighed, clearly in no mood to be bothered with such trifles. “Who told you?”

I threw up my hands, exasperated. “What difference does it make? I’m going back.”

“To do what, exactly?” he said, scoffing. “Dazzle the monster with your beauty?”

My dread increased. “Monster?” I said. “What’s attacking them?”

The confused frown he gave me was a silent way of saying, “Are you really so naïve? Do you really not know?”

Out loud, he said, “It’s your goblin. Livestock are being torn apart. Some villagers too.”

“Then I have to go see her,” I said.

He stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. I hope she doesn’t kill you. It would be a shame if our courtship ended so abruptly.” He snapped his fingers at the nearest guard. “You. Take her to the village.”

His brazen discourtesy surprised and dismayed me, but I had little time to dwell on it.

“Yes, my prince,” the guard said. He strode forward and took me by the arm, and before I could react, I’d been tossed like a doll onto his horse. We trotted through the city, then burst into a full canter outside the city gate, the sunny open landscape flying past me in a whirlwind. The moment we reached my village, the guard discarded me and returned the way we came.

Standing there at the edge of my village and donning a dress that was worth more than probably all the surrounding farmland combined, I discovered that the place of my birth no longer felt so safe and homely as it once had. The villagers, once my friends and neighbors, would now regard me with disdain. I’d been uprooted, planted elsewhere, and where could I go that I wouldn’t be seen as “different” or “other”? I would be a peasant pretending to belong in the city or a princess pretending to belong in the village. No longer could I call anywhere in the world home.

I took a deep breath, then started toward Emil’s hut, dreading what might await me there.

#

What I found was an empty hut. I crept forward, the planks creaking beneath my feet, and ran two fingers along the nearest surface. Clean and well-kept, I thought, examining my fingers. But then where are they?

I reflected for a moment, then headed for the forest. To cross the creek, I had to remove my shoes and hold up my dress, wincing as the freezing water flowed over my feet. At the other side, I proceeded toward the tree where I first met Zinnia; and there, once more, is where I found her. The tree was barren now, and Zinnia sat on the ground amidst its fallen petals, this green blemish in a sea of pink. She had her arms wrapped around her legs and face buried in her knees.

“Zinnia?” I said softly.

When she looked up, her eyes were bright and puffy with tears. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Nice dress.”

“What happened?”

She burst into laughter. “What happened? Hmm, it’s only been weeks, let me see ... First, livestock were being slaughtered in the night. Then shepherds. Then the whole village surrounded our hut with torches and demanded that Papa release me to them, because obviously I’m the killer. Who else? Papa finally persuaded them to leave, then he turned to me and said, ‘You may be tempted to match their hatred, but don’t. There’s enough hatred in the world.’ Then he kissed my forehead and told me that of all the treasures heaven ever sent him, I was the greatest.” Her forehead crinkled, and her eyes welled up, but she went on as well as her breaking voice would allow: “Oh, yes, and then a few days later, I woke to find him stiff and cold in his bed—gone. And you’d never guess who’s suspected of killing him ... of killing my Papa.” She buried her face back in her knees and sobbed.

I stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, but the moment I touched her, she lashed out, slapping my arm away, and sprang to her feet. “What, you’ll comfort me now?” she screamed, and as she screamed, the forest darkened and seemed to tremble as though under an immense weight. A low, steady wind began fluttering the petals around us like butterflies. Drowning in her sorrow, I felt as though I could collapse, or weep, or vomit at any moment. Through her magic, I briefly glimpsed her pain, for it became mine.

“He’s been dead for two weeks!” she went on. “And I’ve been here alone! Where were you then?” She ran forward and shoved me so hard that I stumbled back several steps. “Where were you!” she wailed.

I stared blankly at her for a long time, speechless. My mind seemed stuck in a mire, unable to digest what was happening. “Zinnia, these powers,” I said nervously. “You’re not ... ?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question.

Her mouth twisted into a grimace of anger and disbelief. “I’m not what, Adela? The one hurting people? The monster?” A quivering breath came whispering out of her like the sound one makes after a bone is set. “Get away from me,” she said softly. “Go home.”

I huffed indignantly, brushed off my dress, and did precisely what she asked.

#

I walked with quick, agitated steps, sniffling occasionally. Though not fully satisfied with where our conversation ended, I felt that Zinnia needed more time alone with her thoughts. We could revisit the matter when she calmed down and became more rational. I found it grossly unfair that she would hold my dreams against me after everything we’d been through together. Even so, I knew that in time, I could forgive her.

I soon found myself within eyeshot of the old stone bridge; but as I neared it, a musty sort of burning smell rose to meet me. I paused and looked for the source but saw nothing other than a strange disturbance in the mud along the riverbank.

Inching forward for a closer look, I saw a series of deep indentions in the mud, too large for bear tracks. “What is that?” I muttered.

A deep grumbling noise answered me from beneath the bridge, and when I snapped my head toward it, I saw what I had assumed to be a boulder, only now it was moving.

That’s no boulder, I realized as the creature turned to fix a pair of glittering dark eyes on me. When the creature turned, I saw that it was crouched beside a steaming cauldron, flames licking the iron underbelly. In a flash of insight, it became clear where all the death and carnage had been coming from. It wasn’t Zinnia; a troll had prowled in to occupy the bridge!

Trembling, I backed slowly away, but the troll had already seen me. It took two lumbering bounds, then sprang into the air and landed right in front of me. The impact quaked the earth, and I found myself cowering in its shadow.

“Hello, little girl,” he said, sneering down at me. Flies circled his head, and his hot breath reeked like an old carcass. “The toll to cross is ten silver coins.”

“I-I don’t have any coins,” I stammered.

“Good,” he said, licking his pale gray lips and grinning ominously. “I’m hungry.”

His arm shot out and smashed into me. My face bounced off the rough earth, and I found myself curled up and groaning with the taste of blood in my mouth. Before I could even stir, the troll snatched me up by the ankles and started dragging me.

My mental haze cleared a little, and I realized he was dragging me toward his cauldron. “I’m with Prince Leoric!” I cried, trying to wriggle and kick my legs free. “Heir to the throne! If you hurt me, he’ll kill you!”

The troll grunted with laughter. “I don’t see your prince anywhere.”

“Help!” I screamed, clawing at the ground and pulling up clumps of grass and earth. “Leoric! Help!”

Still grinning, the troll reached his cauldron and raised me out over the top of it. Steam billowed up all around me, choking me with its horrid fleshy stench. When I looked down, my screams intensified and I became truly hysterical, for I saw human skulls and other unknown parts swimming in the roiling liquid.

“Now, now,” the troll jeered. “This is going to hurt. Badly. But not for very long. And then you’ll be nice and tender.”

The next moments came in a blur. First, the tingle of magic bit sharply at my skin. Then, there came a loud and terrible noise, like the screeching of steel against steel. I winced, both from the noise and because I felt as though I were being crushed from all sides. As the pressure subsided, something slammed into the troll, knocking him flat. He released me, but in a moment of bewildered relief, I found that I was levitating over the cauldron. I then drifted aside and landed softly in the grass.

Lifting my eyes toward the forest, I saw Zinnia running toward us, hands raised and magic swirling around her in shadowy tendrils like misty black serpents. Her flashing eyes met mine, and she smirked. “Pay the toll or slay the troll,” she said, reciting the inscription on the bridge.

The troll jumped to its feet with a roar and barreled toward Zinnia, and I could only look on, helpless, as my friend rushed to meet her adversary. “Only the most adept sorcerers can handle trolls,” Zinnia had said. “If a troll comes after us, we’re getting boiled alive.”

She came to sacrifice herself for me, I realized with horror.

Zinnia’s first spell struck like black lightning. The entire world seemed to blink, my heart fluttered in a wild spasm, and a thunderous boom shook the earth. The troll halted, dazed and blinking, but he had little time to react before another spell struck, equally earth-shattering. The troll staggered, howling with rage, and Zinnia’s spells just kept coming, faster and harder, like explosions of shadow. Every impact rattled my bones and made my heart throb wildly. Awed and breathless by the onslaught, I felt like one caught in a storm, but the storm was Zinnia.

The troll soon stopped trying to stand its ground. It bellowed like a whipped ox and lumbered away. Zinnia stood looking on as the beast crashed into the underbrush and out of sight.

I scrambled to my feet, laughing with relief. “So much for apprentice-level!” I cried. “You could challenge the very gods!” She turned to me looking unexpectedly grave, and my merriment dimmed. “Are you all right?” I said.

“I followed you out here to protect you,” she answered. “It won’t happen again. I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” I said, now worried. “What do you mean?”

“Papa’s gone,” she said. “And as for you—well, you’ll be happier if you aren’t split between me and your new life.”

“I am not split,” I said petulantly, crossing my arms. “You could just ...” I paused to reflect.

“Just what?” she said with a knowing glint in her eye. “Follow you around in a city that understands me even less than our village? How would you like being treated like a stain all the time? And even though you wouldn’t admit it, you’d be embarrassed by me if I stayed. You’d wish in the hidden corners of your heart that I wasn’t there making things hard for you. You might even come to resent me for it, and resent yourself for resenting me.”

I stood before her silent and ashamed. I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. She was right.

“We always knew you were a princess,” she said, “but me ... I have these powers, and what will I do with them? I could hide in the village, I could sulk around your city making everyone faint ... or I could get out there and see the world, make a difference, help someone. I don’t have the power to make anyone love me, but I don’t have to. If Papa taught me anything, it was how to love the unlovable.” Her chin trembled at the mention of Emil, but she held herself together. “I can’t make them love me, but no one can stop me from loving them.”

She sighed and gave me a sad smile. “And I do love you, Addie. I always did and always will. I’m just not sure you ever saw me.” She stepped forward and wrapped me in a long hug. When she finally released me, her eyes were glittering with tears. “So, this is goodbye,” she said, her face hardening. “This is me ... loving you.”

“No, wait,” I began to say, but it was too late. With her last words, I felt the tingle of magic—and she was gone.

#

Years passed, and Zinnia never returned. During springtime, the smell of fresh cherry blossoms will often drift over the wall to greet me, and when it does, I can’t help but stop what I’m doing and remember. I remember meeting Zinnia for the first time beneath such flowers and becoming her only friend, and she was mine. I remember playing and laughing and dreaming impossible dreams together and believing them. The joy in those memories is their pain, for they’re stuck in the past where I can’t go.

I hate that I never saw her when she was right in front of me. She had to vanish for me to see her. I sometimes worry that I was the monster all along, but I’m not sure I even know what it means to be a monster.

What I do know is that I still tend to dream the impossible. I sometimes sneak out to the forest and stand beneath our tree, hoping with a terrible ache that she’ll startle me with her appearance, that she’ll fall to the ground laughing and tell me she never left. It won’t happen, of course, but that’s no reason to stop dreaming it.

I hear rumors sometimes of a nameless power, rumors of unexpected rescues and vanquished oppressors. I know those stories are about Zinnia; I can feel it. Perhaps I’ll even embark on a pilgrimage someday and chase the rumors, pray that my path leads me where Emil’s led him—to her. Could something I’ve imagined so many times really be impossible? I don’t think so.

It's an odd life I live, but perhaps reality is always stranger and more beautiful than the judgments we begin with. I am the queen born a peasant; my husband’s closest advisor is an aelf who, to this day, behaves like a roguish child; and haunting my memories is a goblin whose most incredible power was that no one could stop her from loving them, not even me.