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They wantedmy white flesh against their gold. They wanted to know sidhe flesh, and it wasn't all about power.
They, like me, knew what it was to be the outsider. To be always different from those around you.
Jonty dropped to his knees in front of me. Kneeling, he looked me in the eyes. He made me aware of how small I was.
"Jonty," I said.
"Princess," he said.
I studied his face. Up close the change was even more startling. His skin was smoother, a softer gray. He smiled at me, and the teeth that I remembered as a mouthful of fangs were straighter, whiter, less frightening, more like a person's mouth than an animal's.
"What has happened to you, Jonty?" I asked.
"You happened to me, Princess."
"I don't understand."
"Your hand of blood happened to us all in that winter's night."
I frowned a little and tried to think of a way to ask my question, but how do you ask a question when you have no idea what to ask?
"I do not understand, Jonty."
"Your hand of blood has brought us back into our power."
"You have not come back into your full power," Holly said.
Jonty turned an evil look on him. "No, as the halfling says, no. But it is more power than we have known in centuries." He turned back to me, the anger fading from his eyes as he beheld me. There was a softness to his look that you didn't see in most goblins' eyes. Red Caps were known for their ferocity, not their kindness.
"Why have you all come, Jonty?"
"They want you to touch them as you touched us. They want you to bring them into their power, too."
"Why did you not ask me sooner?"
"Would you have done it?"
"You saved us, Jonty. I know that. But more than that, my job, my task as princess is to bring power back to faerie. All faerie. That includes you and your men."
Jonty looked at the floor, and spoke as softly as his deep, deep voice would allow. "I knew you would not refuse us if we stood before you. I knew that your hand of blood called to us too strongly, if we were close to you, but I did not think you would simply say yes from a distance."
He looked up and his red eyes shimmered. Red Caps did not cry, ever.
A single tear slid from his eye. A tear the color of fresh blood. I did what I knew was custom among the goblins. Tears are precious, blood more precious yet. I touched my finger to his face and captured that single tear before it could mingle with and be lost in the blood that trailed down his face.
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