CHAPTER 46

The metronome ticked back and forth, a consistent rhythm to attempt to bring some order to the disarray in Stanley's head. He sat on the mat of soft woven fabric on the floor in the middle of the largest tree in the goblin compound, which had been reserved for the king's purposes. Now his.

Stanley tried not to think of his father when he was in the royal chambers, and what his father must have done to his mother within its confines. Sometimes his thoughts managed to drift off to more pleasant ideas, but today was not one of those days, for he foresaw himself doing much the same to Scar in that bed as Damon's father had done to his mother.

He had brought Scar to the goblin tree fortress, and had staved off disaster for the time being, but she was not a willing bride. She was not a gift from the wolves to the goblins, an offering of peace. Her hesitation and fear had turned her into a prisoner, and Stanley had no one to blame but himself.

Scar would never give herself to him willin