Dan sat on the couch with Mitzi as her family settled in to their new beds. He’d never seen such a happy bunch. He felt great. They deserved this.

  “Dan, you should have told me.” She said, still smiling. She was proud of him. He didn’t need the bond to know it. He gave her a hug.

  “I wanted to surprise you. And it wasn’t just me. My friends have been working on it with me the last few days. Would you come out to eat with us tomorrow night? I want you to meet them.”

  “Absolutely.” She looked up at him. “I’ve missed you. I’ve seen you every night, but I’ve missed you.”

  He understood. It never felt like enough time. He leaned his forehead against hers. He almost pulled her into his lap, but he heard the booted feet of Runt walk in from the back.

  “Son,” the tiny monarch said, “no one has ever given me a bed before. Thank you.”

  Dan looked up and Runt was just watching them. Dan cleared his throat and tried to sit a bit more properly. It wasn’t easy since Mitzi had no intention of letting go of him. In fact, she climbed into his lap on her own and just held him. Dan turned red.

  Runt just laughed as he jumped into his chair.

  “Geraldine is ecstatic. She pulled out that lamp she bought and has it on a little night table next to the bed. The old bat loves it. She’s even gotten a crossword book out.” He gave Dan a serious look. “I’m not kidding kid. This means a lot. I don’t think I’ve met another human as nice as you since Terry. If you were worried about earning Mitzi? You did. Not that she’s for sale, of course. Bandy? I might be willing to consider bartering for.”

  Mitzi gave Runt a dirty look. Dan laughed.

  “I’m just glad everyone seems to like the beds, your highness.”

  Runt scratched his cheek. He seemed awkward suddenly.

  “Look, uh, Dan. You don’t have to keep the “your highness” thing up. That’s for outsiders and serious business. Things are different now. You’re gonna be closer than most, I guess.”

  Dan didn’t know what to say. He could feel Mitzi’s surprise as well.

  “Well, sir,” Dan wasn’t about to just call the man Runt, “can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, kid.”

  “Why “Runt”? Is that short for something? Is it a nickname?” Dan was seriously curious about this. Runt smiled.

  “Nah.” He said. “Name’s just Runt. I wasn’t supposed to survive. I was literally the runt of my brood. My sister was the only reason I survived at first. I’m not the brightest, but I was smarter than my dad and that was all that counted in the end.”

  “Can I ask how you became King?” Dan asked. He was still feeling out goblin culture, and Runt seemed very forthcoming right now.

  “Well,” the old goblin said, “My dad, Gorthank, was a stooge of the Necromage. He was supposed to have our best interests at heart and he didn’t. No one liked him, but strength counted for a lot back then.”

  Mitzi giggled and Dan looked at her.

  “You’re gonna like this.” Was all she said.

  “So I got fed up with my dad constantly shoveling blame off on his underlings. That’s not what a goblin king does.”

  “What does he do?” Dan asked.

  “The full title is supposed to be the King of Blame or the Blame King. We’re meant to protect the matriarch, who actually runs things. She’s the keeper of our ways and culture. She the most valuable thing we have. Well, we do that and take the lumps so the rest of the brood or tribe doesn’t have to. We’re a sacrifice for the good of the brood. And in the dungeon it was all broods with broodmare swapping. No tribes. It was bad. It’s how we lost Sandibah.”

  Dan felt sadness in Mitzi, and he gave her a squeeze. That must have been her mother.

  “Anyway, pops was planning some big raid on a larger brood that would get the weakest of us killed. He didn’t care. He was in his prime. So, I challenged him to a contest of strength.”

  “Wait, what?” Dan asked. Even for a goblin, Runt was scrawny. Even Dan could tell that.

  “Yep. I challenged him to a contest of strength at the spectacle cliff. There was this stupid rift in the dungeon where he’d do pronouncements. So I get up there and try to lift a boulder and fail.”

  Mitzi was already shaking with silent laughter. Dan just sat there wondering where this was going to go.

  “So pops starts screaming about his superiority and the size of his balls, and I told him to shut the fuck up and prove it already. He walks over, picks up the biggest boulder he can and walks over to the edge with the stupid thing over his head to prove his might.”

  “Yeah?” Dan had started grinning. He thought he saw where this was going to go.

  “So I throw a smaller, but still pretty big, rock at it and knock him off the cliff. His own boulder lands on top of him and turns him into salsa. Sandibah comes running up and throws my hands over my head and starts screaming “ALL HAIL KING RUNT!!” and that’s how I got the job.”

  Dan burst out laughing.

  “Smart!” he said, but Runt shook his head.

  “Smart enough. That’s all you have to be to be king with the goblins. Smart enough to take the throne and smart enough to make sure no one else wants it.”

  “That was the beginning of changes for us.” Mitzi said. “Mom told me about how things used to be. Uncle Runt has done a lot for us.”

  “It isn’t that much.” The tiny monarch said.

  “He bribed everyone he could to get as many of us out of the dungeon as possible. There’s still some of us in there, but they volunteered to stay behind and keep up appearances so a majority of us could escape that night.” Mitzi said.

  “Still lost a lot on the journey to Tir-Na-Nog.” Runt said sadly. “The Eastern Reaches are not a friendly place to travel. Beautiful, but deadly.”

  Mitzi turned and looked at Dan. Dan felt sad for them. And angry.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked.

  “I’m just mad about how you guys are treated. Again. Why the hell doesn’t anyone know about this stuff? You’ve got a culture. You’re a PEOPLE. Not some mobs. Why aren’t you guys one of the civilized races already?”

  “Elves.” Was all Runt said. “We came flooding into the civilized areas of the Everywhen after the Sin and the Sundering and their opinions never got better.” Runt said, matter of factly. “It isn’t great, but this is so much better than what we had, boy.”

  Dan rubbed his face with his hand.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re right. This isn’t supposed to be my fight and I’m not going to really solve anything. If you need any help though? If I can make things better somehow? Ask me. I don’t care what it is. Ask me. I’ll do what I can, sir.”

  “Geraldine said you were a good man.” Runt said, scratching his cheek. “I’m glad to know you, Dan. Mitzi?”

  She stopped watching Dan and turned to her uncle.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m giving you and Bandy Sundays off. I can juggle things around. You guys can work Tuesdays. Besides, you need a day off in common with your fella.” He said, trying not to smile.

  Mitzi hopped down and leaped into the chair to hug her uncle. Dan sighed. This solved so many problems in his mind. Specifically, trying to find time between their schedules.

  “Thank you for that, sir.” Dan said.

  Runt just smiled at his niece. Dan felt these guys were far more human than people like Candy.

  Geharadeen, matriarch, was happy as a pig in shit. She had a bed. It was her first, but it was hers. And Runts. She tried not to let that spoil her mood. Runt wasn’t really a bad goblin to share a bed with. He never got handsy. He didn’t hog the bedrolls. But it was Runt. She looked up from her crosswords as he walked in and threw his crown up on a peg on the wall. He smiled sadly at her, which made her set her crosswords down.

  “What?” She asked.

  “Eh. Nothin’. I sent Mitzi on with Dan for the night. Gave her Sundays off so she’d have time to be with him.”

  “Good. He’s a good man. They deserve each other.” She said and picked up her crossword again. Runt sat on the end of the bed.

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  “Am I that hard to like?” She heard Runt say, and she set the crossword down again. Oh gods, here we go. She was afraid this would happen.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She asked.

  When he turned to her, she was shocked at the sadness on his face.

  “Geharadeen, I never asked to take. . . I never wanted to be HIM. I knew there wasn’t a point in that.”

  She felt a rage building in her. She’d told him never to say his name. She preferred he never even mention her Tragarth, even in passing.

  “No. You didn’t. You were usually smart enough to not even mention him.”

  “I’ve only ever tried to do what was best for the brood.” He said.

  He had her there. Runt had gone above and beyond on that point.

  “I won’t argue on that.”

  “I just thought, well hoped, we’d at least be friends by now. What’s it been? Two? Three? FOUR broods now? This last bunch being THE last?” He looked miserable. “I guess I just assumed that by this point we’d be friends. Or something. I. . .” The goblin’s head dropped. “I guess I didn’t realize I was that bad.”

  Geharadeen just watched him. He’d been better this week. Better than he had ever been, really. He’d finally stopped being a runt with a chip on his shoulder and a crown on his head. He’d been able to set it all down. There was a goblin there, beneath it all. But it was STILL Runt, and all the things that meant. To her he would always be the Blame King, and there was SO much blame to give him.

  “I can’t love you, Runt.” Was all she said.

  “Not asking you to.” He said. “I never asked or wanted you to.” He looked up at her. “Look, there’s all this room now. I’m gonna go sleep in the chair. I know you’re not able to leave these kids. I’m not either. Maybe we can call some kind of truce.”

  “What do you want from me, Runt? Blood?” She asked. He didn’t say anything for a long time.

  “I’m sorry you lost him. G’night, Geharadeen. Yell if you need me.” With that, Runt got back up and walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

  Geharadeen sat her crossword on the small table by the bed. The mention of Tragarth had brought it all right back to the surface like it always did, and nights were the absolute worst. She picked up one of the pillows from the bed and gripped it tightly to herself, burying her face in it. Geharadeen wept for her Tragarth like it as the first day she’d lost him all over again. Her soft cries woke no one. They only kept Runt awake. Runt was the only one that ever heard them.

  Runt lay in his chair with a blanket over him and the lights turned off in the front. He’d been awake for a couple of hours and had heard the muffled sobs coming from the back after he’d left. She did this every night. It had never lessened after forty years. He never should have agreed to this, but it was the only choice either of them had. All he had was this, and tonight it was worse. He didn’t have survival to distract him now.

  Geharadeen had volunteered to be his broodmare after Tragarth died. She had been a trade with another brood. Tragarth had been strong, and kind, and a real hero for a goblin. He could have been the greatest goblin who ever lived. Geharadeen had bonded with him immediately. They’d been happy. Runt’s pop had pounded Tragarth into paste for taking Geharadeen. He’d done it right in front of her. In front of him.

  Geharadeen had made it clear years ago that this was a genetics thing. They’d have strong and intelligent children. They’d had. He’d watched them all die twice over. That’s why he’d done what he’d done. He’d lost everything he’d cared about more times than was fair for anyone. He’d been willing to give himself up for their escape but in the end, the plan had worked and he’d lived.

  Runt hadn’t actually intended for that part of the plan to work. He’d meant to go down in some noble sacrifice so his children and what little family he had left would survive. But the bribes had been enough. And now, here he was. There wasn’t anything he wanted in life any more. He had this business that Larry could run. His family was provided for.

  He’d thought that once this was done, if he DID survive somehow, maybe Geharadeen would at least be a friend. Someone he could talk with. But that wasn’t going to happen. She’d made it abundantly clear that she couldn’t stand him. He didn’t want her love. He just wanted her to LIKE him. But that was too much to ask. She was a slave to grief and Runt had become bound up in that grief as a poor substitute for something he’d never intended to replace.

  He missed his sister. Sandibah had always seen beyond all of his fronts and shortcomings. She’d seen what he could be. She’d helped him to get to where he was. They’d taken her. She’d died. He was as much a slave to grief as Geharadeen. Gods, he missed Sandibah.

  “Runt?”

  He closed his eyes. If he ignored her she’d think he was asleep, and go back to bed.

  “Runt, I know you’re awake, you damned- Sorry. I know you’re awake.”

  Runt sighed heavily.

  “Let me sleep, Geharadeen.” He said.

  The aged goblinette walked up beside the chair.

  “How long has it been, Runt?” She asked. He knew what she meant.

  “Something like forty years now. I stopped counting.” He said, voice muffled by his blanket.

  She didn’t speak again for a long while. Runt took the opportunity.

  “I don’t think I ever thanked you for doing what you’ve done. I don’t know that you’ve let me thank you. Just know it’s been appreciated.” He thought about it. “Doesn’t really sound like enough.”

  She still remained silent.

  “If I could have stopped my pop that day, I would have.” Runt said. “If there had been a way to trade places with him, I would have. We all know the wrong goblin died that day, Geharadeen.”

  “There’s no “We all” anymore, Runt.” Geharadeen said quietly. “There’s just us now. There’s you and there’s me. Why didn’t you stop him? I’ve never been able to make myself ask. I’d assumed you were a coward, but things have shown me differently since then. You are many things, Runt, but a coward isn’t one of them.”

  “Sandibah.” He said. “She didn’t want to lose me. Said I’d be needed. She grabbed me and begged me. She whispered there’d be a better time.”

  “And there was.” Geharadeen said, coldness creeping into her voice. “For you, King Runt. A better time for you.”

  Runt finally unwrapped himself and pulled the recliner back to sitting. He climbed down and stood in front of her.

  “What do you want me to say, Geharadeen? That I wish I’d died instead of him? Because I already said that. Do you wish I’d paid for that decision? Because I have.” He felt tears begin to form and he didn’t care any more. “I’ve paid every day for forty years. I paid with my sister, my children, my sense of self worth, my chance at bonding, and hearing you sob every night for forty years. I tried to pay with my life to get us here, but the Everywhen decided that wasn’t a good enough story. Maybe it felt I hadn’t paid enough. So now I’m here. I’m here and everyone else that should have been here is gone, Geharadeen.

  She stared at him, face unreadable.

  “I don’t have anything else to give. I don’t have any other way to make this up to you. I don’t have anything else.” A thought struck him.

  “Wait. Wait. Yes I do.” He said.

  He reached to his belt and took out his small dagger from his days in the dungeon. He grabbed Geharadeen’s hand and placed the dagger in it, then held it up to his own throat. He held out his arms, palms open to the sky.

  “Here. This is all I have left, Geharadeen. This is the only thing I have left to trade. I tried it once and it wasn’t accepted. Well here it is again. Take it, if it will finally bring you peace. Take it and end this for both of us.”

  She didn’t tremble. She didn’t cut him. She just stood there staring at him.

  “And don’t tell me about your pain.” He hissed. “Don’t tell me I insult your pain. I’ve lived with it every day since then. I’ve lived with it just as long as you have now. I’ve lived with it every night listening to you cry yourself to sleep like Tragarth just died. It’s been a constant dagger into my soul, reminding me of what happened.”

  Her hand shook. Good. Good. Maybe that would do it. Maybe that would push her to do SOMETHING for herself.

  “The blame king isn’t needed here.” Runt said. “You don’t HAVE to put up with me. You could lead the brood here. Then maybe if I’m gone you can make that potion. The one you said can break the bond on your end? Will that give you a reason to finally heal? If I’m finally gone?”

  Runt knew the tears weren’t going to stop. He felt like he was done. This was it. He’d finally said everything he’d wanted to say to her. Well, almost everything.

  “I never wanted you to hurt, Geharadeen. Especially not this long. Please do whatever you need to.” He closed his eyes.

  “This would have been so much easier,” Geharadeen said, “if you had been a rival for Tragarth. If you’d been after me. But you weren’t. You were just the runt.” He heard the dagger drop to the floor. He opened an eye and she just stood there. She turned and began slowly pacing.

  “I needed you to be a weaselly little shit. I needed everything you did to be for your own benefit, Runt. I WANTED you to be your father so I could hate you. And even after I realized you weren’t, everything about you said you should have done something to save him. And that hurt worse than the idea of you being your father’s son.

  Runt leaned back against the arm of his chair. His knees were shaking. He was terrified of the part of him that wished she’d just done it. He put his hand to his head.

  “The minute I saw you I knew the narrative.” He said. “I knew the story I was meant to be in. The runt becomes a king. He takes the hero’s woman. He becomes his own tyrant until the right hero comes along.” Runt sighed. “Well I wasn’t going to do it. I was tired of watching it set up. Then pops killed Tragarth. He started scheming. I saw my chance. I took it.”

  He looked up at her.

  “I don’t know how many more apologies I have left in me, Geharadeen. The narrative demanded he die. I tried to stop it the only way I knew how. And my one act of self preservation has haunted me my entire life now.”

  She stood there watching him, and for once the disgust seemed to leave her.

  “I’d ask you to please leave me be,” he said, “because I’ll continue to punish myself. But that’s part of the narrative too, isn’t it? Until a better story comes along, this is what we have.”

  Runt didn’t realize he was sitting on the floor until Geharadeen was standing over him looking down. He looked over and saw his dagger next to him where she’d dropped it. He picked it up and held it by the blade, holding the handle back up to Geharadeen.

  “Put the dagger away, Runt. I’ll not spill your blood.” She carefully sat on the floor across from him, her joints sounding like a bowl of that cereal the broodlings liked. “Tell me how you wished things had happened, Runt. Tell me what you wished things had been.”

  “What’s the point?” Runt asked. He felt bitter suddenly. Forty years and now she wanted to talk. Now that he was ready to die, she wanted to ask questions.

  “Because I want to know the real Runt for once. Not the king. Keep the responsibilities on the shelf for a while longer. Humor me. Make me see what the runt wanted.”

  He sat for a while and thought.

  “Tragarth would have done all of this. He would have killed my father, taken the crown, and led us out. They’d all still be here. Sandibah would be here.” He closed his eyes. “I’d trade everything I’ve ever had for her to be here.” He buried his face in his hands, but dropped them. “We’d all be here and I could just be the runt again. I could just be an old man telling stupid stories to children. You and Tragarth would be happy. You’d be on your fourth brood. Mitzi wouldn’t have to learn everything so late. Talwick wouldn’t feel like he had to impress me all the time. Bandy. . .”

  He thought about that.

  “Bandy would be Bandy.”

  Geharadeen smiled at that.

  “I did love your sister, Runt. I did. On that part we can both agree. I wish she was here. But that’s nothing to do with you. She volunteered for that trade to keep us all safe. That brood getting wiped out had nothing to do with either of you.”

  He smiled. Sandibah had been caring to a fault.

  “But there is one thing you’re wrong about. I loved Tragarth more than I’ll ever love anyone again, but you’re wrong about one thing. He never would have led us out.”

  Runt looked up in surprise.

  “Don’t say anything yet.” She said. “He would have tried to unite the broods into a tribe. You know he would. He would have challenged the Necromage. We’d have all died. Or near enough. One freed brood would never have been enough for him.”

  Runt hadn’t considered that.

  “In that respect, you were who was needed. I don’t think I could have ever admitted it in the dungeon, or the Everywhen, or even last year at the tavern. You gathered what little you could and you ran. You ran like the runt of the brood would. Because of that, some of us survived. I’m sorry that I let your accomplishments get bound up in my pain.” She frowned. “What you’ve done is worthy of praise and I’m sorry I let it go so far without it being said. Thank you for saving our family.”

  Runt gave a loud sniff.

  “Coulda done better.” He said.

  “Shut up, Runt.” She said, then softened her tone. “You don’t deserve the treatment I’ve given you. I know that. I’ve KNOWN that. I can’t fix the past forty years, but I can at least fix the next forty. Maybe.”

  Runt shrugged. He felt strangely hollow now. Maybe it was finally venting his frustrations. Maybe something in him had stopped caring.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Geharadeen. You never have.” He said.

  “Come to bed, you idiot.” She said, but she smiled as she did. “You’re not good for much sometimes, but you make a good space heater.” She stopped though. “I suppose I can treat you like a friend at least. Let’s go talk.”

  Somehow, the insults felt better. He nodded.

  “Best to stick with what I’m good at.” Runt got up and helped Geharadeen stand. They ambled back to the new bed. Runt finally slept soundly. For once, so did Geharadeen.