Page 17 of The Goblin and The Dancer
She liked him! She really did. She believed he was kind and brave.
Even though he wasn’t. The thought hit him like a rock dropping from the ceiling.
If she ever knew, if she ever found out . . . Horror squeezed at his heart.
The chance of having everything he had ever wanted dangled before him like a glittering star, distant but full of possibility. He mustn’t confess; he couldn’t.
When they had first fallen into this underworld, it was as if his dreams had been snuffed out with the same finality as the disappearing daylight. But now, suddenly, hope had blossomed in the dark. He stuffed his guilt deep down inside of him. Telling the truth would only destroy his chance.
People said one wasn’t supposed to hide something from the people one loved. Did that mean he didn’t really love Rosanna? The idea worried him. But if he confessed all that he really was, all that he really felt, he would hate himself so deeply that he would never dream of offering his sorry heart to her.
He had to keep silent. He was closer than he had ever been. It wasn’t just a dream now; she had given him cause to hope. And he didn’t dare lose that. It would kill him.
So he could only hope that the guilt that he hid from her didn’t kill him instead.
“I see a light,” Rosanna said suddenly.
Grik turned around and saw that she was right. A few feet away down the bridge, there was a small circle of brightness.
“Can we look?” Rosanna asked.
Grik looked at her in astonishment. She actually sounded curious—he was amazed that she could be curious after an ordeal like this. Strangely, after Paul left, she seemed more relaxed, and after their conversation, she seemed almost cheerful.
“All right,” he said, wanting to please her. “But stay behind me.”
They moved over and discovered that it was a tunnel. Grik poked his head inside.
It was only a few feet in length, and at the end of it was a cool and fractured brilliance.
“It’s a crystal trove,” he said. “They’re pretty common down here.”
“I’ve never seen one,” Rosanna said, peering over his shoulder. “It looks pretty. Do you think it’s safe?”
Flattered that she would defer to him, that she would depend on him for protection from this unknown region, Grik’s head went up. “I’ll see.”
He went first, paying more attention to his senses and the incoming information that the structure around him was secure than the actual appearance of his surroundings.
“You can come in,” he called to Rosanna.
She crawled into the cave and sat back on her heels, gaping at the walls. “Oh my!”
It was a tiny cave, some six feet wide and perhaps ten high, with a flat, sandy floor and walls that absolutely dazzled Grik’s eyes. The walls were solid crystal, as multifaceted as a gem. It was like being in the center of a diamond or sitting in the middle of a geode.
“It’sbeautiful!” said Rosanna.
Grik sat down and clutched the ends of his feet, then remembered not to, since it only emphasized his shortness. “You don’t think . . . it’s frightening?”
Rosanna’s mouth twitched in slightly ironic laughter. “Being washed down a drain was frightening. But this place? No. It’s magical.” She wrapped her arms around her dirty knees. They were sitting so close together they were almost touching.
Grik barely dared to breathe.
“Don’t you think something can be both magical and frightening?”
He turned to look at her. “I suppose so,” he said softly.
She turned and met his eyes, and his heart raced. He found himself blurting out something, anything, out of sheer nervousness. “But your city is magical—there’s nothing frightening or . . . or ugly about it.”
Rosanna smiled wryly. “You’d be surprised. There’s plenty of ugliness up there. Some places in the city are frightening and ugly, and others aren’t.” She tipped her head with an expression Grik couldn’t quite read beyond all of the mud. “The underground isn’t so different from that, is it? Are elves and goblins really so different?”
