Zana tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack. Night engulfed the dense forest around her. With each step, the coins on her dress rattled. Her chest knotted so tight, she could barely take a breath as her mind remained in the salt mines with Klurt; his dead eyes and so much blood. Emptiness grew inside her. She already missed him—her friend, confidant, and savior when no one else had wanted to extend a helping hand.

Loose pebbles crunched underfoot. Yep, what everyone needed to kick off a party; a funeral on the first day of the Lunar Festival!

If Zana’s heart weren’t broken into ten million pieces, she might have found that funny. At least Cruz had helped with the upcoming cremation. She wasn’t sure she could have planned the event, but she had to remain strong for Klurt. The festival was his baby. He had once said that when he died, he didn’t want anyone to mourn or cry. Everyone was to celebrate his life with cheer and dance. Zana’s throat thickened.

Jar-shaped lanterns filled with glowworms and hooked on branches illuminated the worn path that curved ahead. Usually, she’d walk home with customers and vendors carrying merchandise from the Wart Markets. Not tonight. The place was abandoned.

The majority of goblins lived in Pryvale, which was located deep in the Transylvanian woods and far from the nearest city of Cluj in Romania. While Tapestry was a parallel world to Earth, geographies and landscapes were almost identical. Because of the magical connection between Earth and Tapestry, Earth had started drawing energy from their world. Locations in Tapestry depleted of resources became bare and nothing grew there. Add to that, replicas of human buildings had started showing up in the dead zones like ghosts of places. On Earth, the abandoned salt mine had been transformed into a theme park, while here, it was an empty hole in the ground.

Those born in Tapestry had an innate ability to cross the thin veil between the worlds, but humans couldn’t and had zero idea that Tapestry existed.

Zana quickened her pace. Losing Klurt brought back the anguish from her parents’ death. She had visited Klurt weekly, and he even made her a potato and leek pie once. For the first time since moving to Pryvale, she’d felt as if she belonged. Klurt was her link to the community that treated her as an outsider. She and Klurt would chat for hours on how to improve the Wart Market and keep goblins safe from anyone starting trouble.

She chewed on her inner cheek, remembering the killer rushing into Klurt’s office. In Tapestry, all sorts of gangs existed, and many had visited the Wart Markets or had run-ins with Klurt—from the big players like the goblin chief to bug-munching backward goblins living deep in the mountains. Those creatures sold anything they got their hands on, including drae. Nasty, and, for some reason, most of the backward goblins had missing teeth.

What about Shadow? Was it too much of a coincidence Klurt had died the day Shadow returned home?

Zana kicked a rock, sending the stone into a tree. A recent storm had stripped back the bark and outer layers of beech and oak trees. Leaves rustled overhead from the breeze, and insects sang like they did most days. That night was anything but normal. The world would never be the same again.

A crunch sounded behind her. Then another. Footsteps.

Zana glanced over her shoulder, expecting Cruz, but he wasn’t there. She was alone. An owl hooted in the distance, and she flinched, speeding up her walk.

“Stop being a chicken.” Out there, everything moved… from the weather to animals. “Calm down.”

Another twig snapped. Then two more, louder. Her muscles tensed. She quit her marching and turned around, finding a barren track.

“Whoever’s there, show yourself.” She reached for the blade in her boot. “I ain’t afraid to use my knife.”

When no one responded, she spun around and ran. Her dress jangled and would direct whoever followed straight to her position. Note to self: Never buy noisy dresses again.

She rushed forward, hating how far the salt mines were from Pryvale. She should have waited for Cruz to finish. Goblins, and even drae, went missing, found months later, disorientated. And they were the lucky ones who weren’t being harvested for organs. Many goblin folk were bastards, and treated their own kind worse than they would an enemy.

The sound of a sharp inhale reached her from within the folds of the dense trees. She searched the darkness. A twig rolled against the wind. Who was watching her?

Her pulse drummed. Would someone jump out at any second? She’d never walk home alone again. Surely, a psychic like her would receive a warning of her own death beforehand! Right?

Lanterns swung in the breeze, and branches grated against each other. In the distance, a high-pitched yip echoed, and then several others. Foxes. Both goblins and trolls hunted the poor animals. One reason among countless why she’d become a vegetarian. Plus, eating animals diluted her abilities; as taught by her human mom.

If Zana ran, full bolt, all the way home, she’d arrive in fifteen minutes. She turned and sprinted.

A few minutes into her run, a figure stepped out of the night and into her path. Her yelp was a strangled cry that belonged to a child. She swung her blade at the intruder, but he grasped her wrist with the fastest reflexes she’d ever seen.

She shuddered. She scanned his familiar face, frozen in time for those few seconds. Long hair fluttered over his shoulders, while his short, thick beard covered his square jaw line. Then reality crashed into her, washing her in a sense of relief.

“Shadow! Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me?” She ripped her arm away and tucked the knife into her boot.

He ran his fingers through his dark hair, driving the wind-blown strands off his face. His eyes were blazing green and framed by the darkest eyebrows. One side of his mouth curled upward in a way that said he’d enjoyed scaring her. But it was more than that. Was he flirting? For the first time that night, she studied how gorgeous the guy was. His build put other goblins to shame—wide shoulders and arms twice the size of Zana’s. Plus, a strong chest to drool over. Of course, such images were ridiculous. Still, he was an Adonis among her kind.

“Why were you following me?” she demanded.

He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and the muscles in his arms rippled beneath the fabric. If Zana didn’t know better, she would have guessed Shadow was a seasoned warrior. Not an ambassador.

His voice was deep when he spoke. “I was at Klurt’s place. Couldn’t stay there. Guess it’s lucky we bumped into each other.” He paused, and his furrowed brow screamed sorrow.

If Shadow had come from Klurt’s place, he was traveling from the direction Zana was headed. Not from the salt mines. What about those footfalls? She must have imagined them. Her emotions were so overwhelming, she was ready to snap.

Though coincidences rarely just happened. Didn’t she have enough crap on her plate already? Besides, after the festival, she had to decide whether she’d stay in town or leave before the goblins chased her out. They tolerated her because of Klurt. Getting involved with Shadow, the so-called goblin who’d abandoned his kind, wasn’t going to help her cause.

She caught Shadow’s gaze sliding up her body before meeting her eyes.

“You’re not what I expected from someone working in the kingdom with the queen.” She broke into a walk, and Shadow fell into rhythm alongside her. Guess he was joining her. In a strange way, she welcomed having his company.

“How many ambassadors have you met?” he asked.

“Well… none, but I’m picturing someone the opposite of you.”

Not that she got a chance to meet anyone who dealt with the kingdom. Then again, she once had a friend. Fallen was a drae and lived in Tapestry; the girl had been petrified of entering the realm. Their friendship was an open wound. Fallen hadn’t even done anything wrong, because the problem was in Zana’s head; still didn’t soften the blow. If Zana’s parents hadn’t taken Fallen into their family, then the trolls hunting Fallen wouldn’t have trampled Zana’s family to death. All the logic in the world told Zana it wasn’t Fallen’s fault. Yet, for years she’d blamed her. Now Zana regretted her actions.

“Have you ever heard the saying,” Shadow said, his voice slicing through Zana’s thoughts, “‘never judge a book by its cover’?”

“Ha. You’re funny. No judgment here. Just saying you’re not what I expected.” His presence reminded her she wasn’t the only one who’d seen Klurt’s dead body, and the memory stung her chest. The more she let the recollections swirl in her mind, the more her throat choked. She stared over at Shadow, who wasn’t asking for anything, yet kept her company. Klurt had been like an uncle to him even though they weren’t blood related. Losing a father figure have must hurt him, too. She ought to tell him how sorry she was for his loss. How things were bound to get better. But those were platitudes she didn’t believe herself.

Instead, she asked, “What sort of name is Shadow?”

He didn’t respond at first. When he did, his voice was taut, as if he’d practiced putting up his defenses. She regretted prying, but it was too late.

“Never knew my real name or my parents. A few friends called me Shadow because they said I moved stealthily. So the name stuck.”

Silence joined them once again, even if Zana had a hundred more questions about his upbringing. Had he given himself a surname, or taken Klurt’s? How had he worked his way up from the streets to being an ambassador? Did he have any other friends in Pryvale? But none of those seemed appropriate.

“Did Klurt have any enemies?” he asked.

She chewed on a hangnail, thinking back to the previous Wart Markets. All those times she’d visited Klurt, but he’d never said a word that raised alarm. “He was the most likable goblin in town. Everyone loved him.”

“There must be something you remember.” Shadow studied her, the bridge of his nose scrunched as if he were holding back his interrogation.

“Maybe later. Right now, I can barely believe he’s gone.”

Her memories were thorns, tearing at her insides. Considering the number of troublemakers who attended the markets, it could be anyone. There was a pissed-off troll who’d been kicked out after trampling a rabbit, or the teenager goblin from another village who’d been trying to steal food. Or one of a dozen others who believed taking what they wanted was okay. Death happened all the time in Tapestry, but no matter how many times she’d heard of another killing, she could never desensitize herself from it.

“Of course. Yeah. Sorry. I’ve always thrown myself into work when life shits all over my front lawn.”

“Nice imagery there.” She laughed, which was insane, considering her insides were broken glass.

Shadow smiled, and damn if he wasn’t handsome to the point where her legs did that wobbly thing for a split second. Except she never went girlie over a guy, ever! Or maybe it was because she’d never met someone who looked like Shadow? Though, in truth, who was this goblin? Everything else about him was a shadow. She smirked at her own stupid pun.

Both fell into silence, and her mind sailed back to the salt mines. “So what do you do at the markets?” he asked.

“I’m a tarot reader.”

“Is that stuff real?”

“Yes!” Her response was fast and loud. “I mean, lots of readers are fake, which gives others a bad rap.”

He nodded and cut her a look as if studying her, judging her.

“Everyone made a living any way they could in Tapestry, she said. ” If goblins chose to believe in such things, then there was a market for her services. “Anyway, what did you mean when you said I was a half-goblin?”

Part of her expected the typical responses. How she didn’t quite fit in. How she’d struggle to find a goblin mate at the upcoming festival. Still, she was curious to see what Shadow would say.

He shrugged. “Just that half-goblins look more human. It’s rare to see them, I guess, and even with your shorter ears, I could tell you were only part.”

“Is it a problem that I’m not a full-blooded goblin?” Without blinking, she waited for a response, ready with a barrel of retorts.

“Not to me. I haven’t been home for years, and I’m sure things have changed. Back then, the villagers didn’t accept anyone different into their community. It’s nice to see they now do.”

For the rest of the walk, neither said a word. His response took her off guard. Goblins weren’t shy to admit they preferred the company of full-blooded folk. Fine by Zana. She didn’t have time for bigoted idiots. But Shadow didn’t seem bothered by her mixed bloodline.

The trees grew sparse, and, up ahead, stood a cluttering of timber huts. Enormous oaks grew amid the homes, their low hanging branches protecting the abodes. Tiny lights dotted the lanky limbs as candles glowed within most windows. Each home sat like a hibernating bear, round and compact. Moss lined the walls while smoke swirled out of the stone chimneys on the thatched roofs. Clotheslines were strung between huts and trees. The place was comfortable living for one or two goblins, but families with kids lived in the same squished homes and everyone made do. This was Pryvale—Zana’s home.

“The place sure has expanded,” Shadow said. “There must be close to a hundred.”

“I bet it doesn’t compare to the glorious life in the kingdom.” She hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but Shadow didn’t even lift a brow. Maybe he’d heard it all before.

Shadow surveyed the location, and he smiled as if he’d met a long-lost friend.

“Guess it’s not easy being the only goblin in the kingdom,” she continued, hoping to get him to open up more. It was rare for a goblin to enter the world of another race, and she’d heard many accusations about how Shadow was a traitor for leaving. Yet, every story had two sides. “Don’t you ever want to move back here?”

“I have buddies and a great life there. Coming back here to visit is nice, but it’s not for me.” He might sound cheerful, but the tone was regretful.

“Okay. Well, thanks for walking me home. I better go now.”

Zana didn’t wait for Shadow to respond. The sooner she put distance between them, the better she’d be. Dealing with Klurt’s loss was all she could take tonight. Not wondering what would happen to the Wart Markets. Or dealing with the confusing emotions rattling through her each time she stared at Shadow. Those feelings didn’t belong in her body on the night she’d lost the last person she had in the world. She kicked into a run toward a cobblestone passage and wove between the huts.