Wintersong by S. Jae-Jones EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: S. Jae-Jones
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Historical Romance eBooks
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THE GOBLIN MARKET
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry, thirsty roots?
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI, GOBLIN MARKET
BEWARE THE GOBLIN MEN
“Beware the goblin men,” Constanze said. “And the wares they sell.”
I jumped when my grandmother’s shadow swept across my notes,
scattering my thoughts and foolscap along with it. I scrambled to cover my
music, shame shaking my hands, but Constanze hadn’t been addressing me.
She stood perched on the threshold, scowling at my sister, Käthe, who
primped and preened before the mirror in our bedroom—the only mirror in
our entire inn.
“Listen well, Katharina.” Constanze pointed a gnarled finger at my sister’s
reflection. “Vanity invites temptation, and is the sign of a weak will.”
Käthe ignored her, pinching her cheeks and fluffing her curls. “Liesl,” she
said, reaching for a hat on the dressing table. “Could you come help me with
this?”
I put my notes back into their little lockbox. “It’s a market, Käthe, not a
ball. We’re just going to pick up Josef’s bows from Herr Kassl’s.”
“Liesl,” Käthe whined. “Please.”
Constanze harrumphed and thumped the floor with her cane, but my sister
and I paid her no heed. We were used to our grandmother’s dour and direful
pronouncements.
I sighed. “All right.” I hid the lockbox beneath our bed and rose to help
pin the hat to Käthe’s hair.
The hat was a towering confection of silk and feathers, a ridiculous
affectation, especially in our little provincial village. But my sister was also
ridiculous, so she and the hat were well matched.
“Ouch!” Käthe said as I accidentally jabbed her with a hatpin. “Watch
where you stick that thing.”
“Learn to dress yourself, then.” I smoothed down my sister’s curls and
settled her shawl so that it covered her bare shoulders. The waist of her gown
was gathered high beneath her bosom, the simple lines of her dress showing
every curve of her figure. It was, Käthe claimed, the latest fashion in Paris,
but my sister seemed scandalously unclothed to my eyes.
“Tut.” Käthe preened before her reflection. “You’re just jealous.”
I winced. Käthe was the beauty of our family, with sunshine hair, summerblue eyes, apple-blossom cheeks, and a buxom figure. At seventeen, she
already looked like a woman full-grown, with a small waist and generous
hips that her new dress showed off to great advantage. I was nearly two years
older but still looked like a child: small, thin, and sallow. The little hobgoblin,
Papa called me. Fey, was Constanze’s pronouncement. Only Josef ever called
me beautiful. Not pretty, my brother would say. Beautiful.
“Yes, I’m jealous,” I said. “Now, are we going to the market or not?”
“In a bit.” Käthe rummaged through her box of trinkets. “What do you
think, Liesl?” she asked, holding up a few lengths of ribbon. “Red or blue?”
“Does it matter?”
She sighed. “I suppose not. None of the village boys will care anymore,
now that I’m to be married.” She glumly plucked at the trim on her gown.
“Hans isn’t the sort for fun or finery.”
My lips tightened. “Hans is a good man.”
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