Brict the Goblin Prince: Part Two (special preview)

The chill of the mountains is not something you’ve gotten used to over time like everything else. Waking up knowing that the floor is going to be ice cold and the day won’t warm until after the noon sun rises above the peaks has been the hardest thing you have had to acclimate to. Everything else about your life in the goblin royal palace has been fine. Until recently, that is.

“Good morning, your highness!” You’re greeted chipperly as you make your way to the warm dining hall.

“Good morning.” You clutch a robe around you while most of the goblins in the halls still go around near nude. It reminded you of how much you missed your husband’s own naked form.

All the uproar and commotion caused by the recent unification has kept your husband, the now King Brict, away on important matters. He’s been going across the Cobra Strait often to the Rakshasa Kingdom.

“You have a letter this morning.” You’re greeted with a tray of mail as soon as you sit at the table, your back turned to the massive fireplace.

You excitedly reach for the stack of letters, hoping to see one from your husband. “Thank you Grit!” You exclaim to your advisor.

Grit adds logs to the fire while you search the stack of letters. The usual ones from your family in Charbagne, your sister and her husband Ikid, along with some from your friends scattered amongst the empire. You then find one from Brict and happily tear into it.

Grit joins you at the table, serving you coffee while you peruse the letter. He looks at you just as your expression drops and your guts sink into the pit of your stomach.

“He’s not coming home,” you mutter.

Grit sets the coffee pot aside as you stare at your empty plate and slowly move the letter into your lap where you can’t see it.

“There must be some mistake, your highness.” Grit takes the letter from you. “He said he would return in time for the Festival of Cups.”

“He can’t make it,” you murmur. “There’s too much going on.”

Grit huffs and places his hand upon your arm. “I’ll write back to him and insist that-”

You move away from the table, pushing your chair back. “There’s no need. If he’s not coming back for the festival, then this must be important to him. I wouldn’t dare call him away if that’s the case.”

He looks from you, to the letter, and then to your untouched coffee cup. “Your highness, what about your breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.” You leave the dining hall, going back into the cold hallway.

It was hard enough dealing with all these royal matters by yourself, but you had been glad to do it to help your husband. Brict was working so hard to assure your kingdom remained safe and protected, the least you could do was assure his home was also left in the same care. What hurt was the rumors that had spread, and the whispers she heard in the corners. No heir had been produced yet, and that of course got everyone talking.

You had decided to go to the study in order to do some work, but instead you bypassed it and went into your chambers where you laid down upon the bed.You missed your husband beside you, you missed him holding you and kissing you. You had never felt such loneliness as you did without Brict there.

He had been so attentive and loving during your first few months together. Ever since the Elamont you took, the two of you had been inseparable. This sudden separation made you wonder if he was staying away because he was bored with you now, maybe even annoyed. Your thoughts wander along these darks paths that you try to avoid, but the more he’s absent the further you travel down them. The rumors spreading about didn’t help either. Some days it felt like Grit and his family were the only comfort you had.

Grit’s wife, Tulka, who was also Brict’s elder sister, came into your room later that day. She sat by you on the bed and stroked your hand.

“I don’t think wallowing in your sadness again will do anyone any good. But if you cannot rise, I understand,” she says calmly.

You sigh heavily, slowly sitting up to look her in the eye. “I know what he’s doing is important. I just feel like-no, never mind.” You look away towards the window.

Tulka squeezes your hand tight. “Never mind the never mind, you finish what you started. Tell me, and if I hear what I think I am going to, I’ll go and fetch that twirp of a king myself.”