Page 25 of The Goblin and The Dancer
Ratiga twisted around in her throne to glare into the corner. “Boys! I know intelligence isn’t your long suit, but try to at least preserve a little dignity. You’re embarrassing me.”
The squabble died down to a few surly mutters, and the cartography continued.
Paul was as disdainful as ever. “When the map is finally ready, we’ll be getting started.” Paul took Rosanna’s elbow to pull her away from the throne and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Stay close to me, and you’ll be all right.”
Ratiga raised a bony finger. “There’s just one more thing. Dollie stays with me, to ensure that you really do keep your end of the deal.”
Grik clapped a hand to his mouth to smother his cry, and Paul went rigid.
“Out of the question,” the soldier said flatly.
Ratiga sniggered. “Believe me, you’ll have your hands full. Far too full to have room for holding your sweetie.” She sneered at her cheap joke and clapped her hands when Paul flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about me,” Rosanna said quickly. “I’ll be all right.”
Paul took a deep breath and speared Ratiga with a glance. For the first time since Grik had known him, he saw the warrior inside the elf, towering and powerful and frightening.
“If we return and find that you’ve harmed Rosanna in any way,” Paul said lowly, “I’ll throw your stupid crown into one of these sinkholes and make you swim for it.”
Ratiga yawned and wiggled deeper into her throne. “Mmm-hmm, sure.” She looked over her shoulder. “Hurry up with that map, you lot.” She smoothed her hair. “I’m in the mood for a crown.”
Rosanna leaned forward urgently. “Your Highness . . . milady . . . um, madam. Please, might I speak privately with my friends before they leave?”
Ratiga narrowed her eyes. “A private little chat so that you three can make plans of how to slip away? I don’t think so.”
“Please! It’s not that. If Paul and Grik said they were going to do it, they’ll do it. I want to . . . I’m so afraid that they won’t—” Rosanna broke off, her words ending in a gulp.
Grik silently finished her words.
She was afraid that they wouldn’t come back.
Ratiga leaned back on her throne as if Rosanna had just threatened to sneeze on her. “Oh my goodness, are you going to cry? Fine, talk to them. You have five minutes; get a hold of yourself, girl.”
Rosanna hurried to the end of the aisle, clinging to the respective arms of Paul and Grik, and turned them a little out of the torchlight, opening her mouth to speak.
But she didn’t get to.
Paul jabbed a finger at Grik’s chest. “This is all because of you.”
Grik froze, feeling like a bug caught in a beam of light.He knows I threw that rock and knocked him off the bridge!
And then his heart slowed from a race to a painful run as Paul raged on and Grik realized the elf didn’t know what he had done.He was still safe.
“If you hadn’t led us through that supposed shortcut, we wouldn’t be here!”Paul hissed.
Grik swallowed, unable to meet the eyes of the other two. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Any of it. “I swear, I didn’t know about this organization. If I had been working with them, would I be with you now, about to be eaten by a monster?”
“I don’t know,” Paul remarked, eyeing Grik coldly.
“Stop it, just stop it,” Rosanna whispered with a violence that caused both Paul and Grik to stare at her. “I’ve had enough of this stupid and pointless arguing. Neither of you are right about the other, and I wish you could see that—but I do. I know you didn’t betray us, Grik, I know it.”
Their eyes met for a silent, shining drop of time, and then Rosanna went on. “And, Paul, I know you can succeed in this task. But if we’re going to survive this, we have to work together. We have to believe each other.”
Paul’s shoulders slumped, and he looked at the ground. “Very well,” he said at last. He paused, engaged in a colossal struggle, and admitted, “You’re right.” He darted a glance of apology at Grik.
It wasn’t much, but Grik accepted it with a nod.
“All right!” Ratiga suddenly bawled from across the room. “Time’s up! Let’s get going!”
