In the 17th Century, the ancient sprawl of Epping forest is bursting with magic and those who go unseen by human eyes: the elves who rule the summer court, and the goblins who rule the winter court. It is said that if a human catches the eye of one of the fey, they are either doomed or blessed. Contains the stories: Wulfren and the Warlock: When Wulfren wakes from a strange dream of a human captor with long silver hair, and grey eyes, his brothers tell him they rescued him from a warlock, and take Wulfren back home to the goblin king's palace. But Wulfren isn’t so sure the matter is that simple. Why was he missing so long? What are the strange dreams of the beautiful man with the silver hair? Dalliances with humans are severely frowned upon, especially by Wulfren’s father, but Wulfren is willing to risk the scorn of his family to find the human who haunts his dreams. Quiller and the Runaway Prince: After a hard winter, Quiller is sent deep into the forest on a family errand, and is surprised when a human stumbles into his path. Quiller swoops in to pester him, perhaps even eat him, but there is something special about the human: his scent is royal, though he protests that he is not, and soon Quiller finds himself agreeing to help the human with his troubles—in exchange for a kiss.

Goblins

Giving up on memory, I tried to find sleep again. I felt I’d barely shut my eyes before Garnet and Vesey burst into the room. They all but dragged me from my bed. I gripped onto the covers, complaining. A fluttering of sprite attendants piled in behind them and began to fuss around me. I wasn’t in the mood for company, or dancing. With a huff, I sat in front of my mirror, resting my chin in my hand. The sprites combed and teased out my hair, dressing it with dead flowers. I watched their busy reflections with little interest.


Vesey reclined on my bed, chattering aimlessly. Garnet ignored him and sat next to me, playing with the trinkets on my table. Both of them had been dressed, ready to be presented. Sometimes I felt we were no more than prize birds Father liked to display at his table.


Chapter 9