26
‘Toby!’
‘I’m OK, Mother. It’s OK. We’ll get out of this.’ Toby avoided his mother’s gaze as his knees were kicked from under him. He looked up at Oberon. The King sat on a throne atop a small stage, regal in his battle armour. His hands were gloved in green leather. Any jewellery would have produced a ridge in the fabric, which he couldn’t see.
No ring, he thought, a sinkhole opening in his stomach. So, he doesn’t have it yet. He’d been wrong. Or perhaps the weak spot in Oberon’s defences never even existed.
‘Toby!’ A second familiar voice. It was Belle. His sister was in the room, clothed in an apron along with a squad of other servant children. Her eyes shone with barely contained tears. Abandoning her duties, she started to approach him, but a landslide of a troll rumbled between
