To Finnick’s credit, it’s not a murder hole, just a cleverly disguised entrance to a tunnel. At first, I thought it was a small cave. It’s not anything spectacular, just a room inside a rock. When Finnick leads me to the back, though, there is another small entrance. Since I didn’t die the first time, I go through this one as well.
It opens to a larger tunnel. It has a path that is easier to navigate. It’s dimly lit by a couple of sconces, one only appearing far after the previous one isn’t lighting the way anymore, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to something other than the moonlight. The further into it we go, the colder I get. The skin on my arms prickles, and I shiver. This dress is absolutely not suitable for the temperature or any of the things that I’ve dealt with so far. Finnick must notice I’m shaking because I feel his warm cloak sliding over my shoulders. “Aren’t you going to be cold now?” I ask.
“I’m used to the temperature in here. It’s the only way to get a reprieve from the castle without being noticed, so I frequent it often.”
That makes sense. I look up at him as we pass under another sconce and truly see him for the first time. As accurate to him as my paintings have been, there is one thing that I got very, very wrong. I stop walking and just stare at his form, continuing ahead, talking for a moment before noticing I’m not right behind him. He turns to me and tilts his head in curiosity. “Claudia? Are you hurt? Do you need a rest? We can stop, of course, but we are very close to the end.” He walks back to me and reaches out for my hand.
“You’re green.” I don’t phrase it like a question, because it’s not. I’m not sure why my dream has made him green.
He stands in front of me, not shocked by the revelation at all.
“Well, yes.”
That’s all he says, as though everyone is green. How have I not noticed? It must have been because the moonlight washes everything out.
“Why?” It's the only thing I can manage.
He sighs and motions with his hand, obviously urging me to take it and continue walking. “I can explain everything when we are in the castle,” he promises.
I believe him. Again. It feels unnatural even to consider not believing him. I trust him implicitly, and I have no idea why.
He’s right, though. We were right around the corner from the door. It groans loudly as he pushes it open, and beyond it is an enormous fireplace, already crackling and roaring. The warmth that hits my skin is a relief, and I’m instantly more at ease. He closes the door behind us and leads me to a large, cozy-looking chair that I lower myself into immediately. I haven’t felt this tired in who knows how long, and I didn’t even know you could be exhausted in your dreams.
Finnick is back, and he covers me with one of the softest blankets I’ve ever felt. I overlooked Veyra in the room with us, but she’s in front of me now, extending a steaming mug.
“Tea, my lady?”
I accept it graciously. “Claudia, please.”
She gives a single nod before taking a seat across from me, and when Finnick sits in a chair next to me, I immediately miss the proximity.
“Welcome home, Claudia,” Veyra beams. I take a sip of the tea and stare at the two of them, waiting for an explanation, wondering what my subconscious cooks up this time.
“This isn’t my home,” I state plainly. “I’ve never been here before.”
“You have,” Veyra tells me gently. “You just don’t remember it. You were very small.”
Finnick relaxes back in his chair, the embodiment of ease. He’s so comfortable, not on edge or overly insistent about anything going on, and it makes me feel like they’re not acting or trying to trick me.
“Okay,” I concede. “Then explain.”
“You are a mirror child,” Veyra says casually, like I would know what that is.
“I’m sorry, I’m a what now?”
Finnick leans forward and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows before resting them on his knees. “A child born between realms,” he explains. “A mortal mother, and a goblin father.”
I can’t help but laugh. A belly laugh. “Finn. That sounds like the start of a horrible fairytale.”
“You’re right, and it was. And it stayed terrible until someone broke the rules.”
The more Veyra talks, the more I start to realize I may not be dreaming. She tells me of the queen of the realm, Wren. Wren’s father had been the king until his untimely passing. As his only heir, Wren took over. Over time, the only realm that would trade with the goblins - the fae realm - stopped all imports andexports. A new queen had taken over their realm, too. Queen Miryn.
Queen Miryn wanted control of all of the lands. She knew that her exports were valuable, and without them, the goblin realm would suffer. She was right. She strung Wren along, making promises and threats, but Wren was determined to stay with her citizens. To be their voice.
The decline came quickly, though. Soon, the goblin realm started to look barren - shops had to close, farms were struggling, and children were hungry.
Wren swallowed her pride and went to Miryn, who was pleased. She gave Wren the conditions of the deal, and Wren went back to the goblin realm, where a vote was held. In exchange for her help and wealth, Miryn would require every goblin of adult age to work for her for a period of four years. Compared to the human world, it was a draft of sorts.