Page 12 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Another book teetered.

Working in the Library ought to involve more time to read books and less time negotiating with unsavory characters.

“For every book you touch, you get one fewer present,” Pippa said.

“Unfair!”

Summoned by the resulting caterwauling, an apprentice hurried toward them. Pippa motioned him to stand down. “What is it you want?” she asked the goblin. The last goblin had demanded ale, a yellow waistcoat, and a purple cabbage. Guessing was a fool’s game, but she gave it a try regardless. “We have silver tinsel.”

“Bah.”

“A cedar wreath.”

He blew a loud, disdainful breath, vibrating his lips.

“Guess not. How about red ribbons?”

A considering pause. “Maybe.”

“Iced currant buns?” She crossed her fingers, hoping there were any left at the front desk.

“Seven of them! No, three!”

“Three it is. And…a slice of raspberry cake baked by a witch and a minotaur?”

His eyes widened. “Aye.”

“And then you’ll go on home. And you’ll keep your hands to yourself around the books in the meantime? And your magic,” she added hastily.

He pouted, then grinned. “A fair bargain!”

She nodded to the apprentice, who rushed away to gather the items. Pippa remained exactly where she was to keep an eye on the goblin.

“Can I have a strand of your hair?” he asked.

“Definitely not.”

He climbed down the shelves, mud flaking off his boots. Pippa sighed. She was going to have to mop again.

“Hurry up, boy,” the goblin shouted at the apprentice. “I’ve pockets to pick at the solstice tree lighting.”

“Charming,” Pippa said.

He shot toward the apprentice with concerning speed. Nervous and clearly unused to how fast goblins could move when they wanted to, or the way their faces could contort in quite such a gruesome way, the apprentice tossed a currant bun at him.

Poorly.

It clipped the goblin’s shoulder, and the creature howled, a tear squeezing from one eye. The other eye watched her consideringly.

“Out, right now,” Pippa said, “and I’ll bring you some of the mulled wine.”

“Finally,” the goblin huffed. “I never used to have to work so hard for a little wine.”

He snapped his jaws at the apprentice, gold tooth flashing. The apprentice stumbled back, hitting the corner of a table.

The oil lamp in the center of the table wobbled, then toppled. Oil and fire spilled over the decorative lace doily, stitched with holly leaves for the solstice.

When Pippa rushed forward to put it out, the fire recognized her.