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“Your music," he said at last. "Your music was the only thing that kept me sane, that kept me human instead of a monster.”

Quote by S. Jae-Jones

Book:Wintersong
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Wintersong

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S. Jae-Jones

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“All due respect, Renny,” said Mary Jo, “I have a pretty freaking good idea of your capabilities. And I think Mr. Traegar’s decision to bring us in first was the correct one. We don’t really know what we’re dealing with when it comes to the fae—there is no way that the sheriff’s office would. We had two werewolves, Mercy and the goblin king out there—and if it weren’t for the goblin king we’d have failed to bring him in ourselves.” He gave her a look. “I am going to ignore—just for a minute—how much my geek side is loving that apparently there is a goblin king in the world. And that he is—again apparently—here in the Tri-Cities. Even knowing that David Bowie is gone, I am giddy about this.” He said all that in a very dry, professional tone. I was starting to really like this guy.”

Pop CultureGoblin KingDavid BowieMercyverse
Book:Storm Cursed
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“She played her song for the Goblin King every spring, every year, to bring the world from death back into life. And when the little girl's gnarled and aged fingers could no longer hold her bow, her children and students picked up her song and continued to play, one long, unbroken melody that stretched across time and memory. On and on and on, for as long as the seasons turn and the living remember all that is good and beautiful and worthwhile in the world. For love is our only immortality, and when memory is faded and gone, it is our legacies that endure.”

Goblin KingLiesl VoglerShadowsong
Book:Shadowsong
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“Now," he said, turning me to face him. "Let us dance, Elisabeth." The musicians struck up another song, one I didn't recognize. The tempo was slow and in a minor key, seductive and sinister. The Goblin King pulled me into his embrace. He pressed his hand to my lower back, pushing our hips close together. Our hands met palm to palm, fingers intertwined. He was not masked and neither was I. Our eyes met. Despite the closeness of our bodies, it was the touch of our eyes that made me blush. "Mein Herr," I demurred. "I don't think-" "You think too much, Elisabeth," he said. "Too much about propriety, too much about duty, too much about everything but music. For once, don't think." The Goblin King smiled. It was a wicked grin, one that made me feel unsafe and excited at the same time. "Don't think. Feel.”

DancingGoblin KingLiesl Vogler
Book:Wintersong
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“Elisabeth. A breath on the back of my neck. I am dizzy, I sway, but I stand. A breath, then a kiss. I cannot see, but I know it is him. The Goblin King. I lean into him, but he holds me upright. He murmurs my name down my neck, down my spine, his long, elegant fingers traveling along the curves of my hips, my waist. Elisabeth. I do not know what to call him, but I cry out his name. My fingers reach, but he is gone.”

Goblin KingLiesl Vogler
Book:Wintersong
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“And you?" My scalp tingled, and an ache began at the base of my spine, fear or eagerness, I did not know. "What would you ask of me?" His eyes held mine. "I would ask the impossible." I struggled to let the Goblin King hold my gaze as heat stained my cheeks. "Bear in mind that I am no saint," I said, "and cannot work miracles." His lips twitched. "Then I would ask for your friendship." Startled, I removed my hands from the table. "Oh, Elisabeth," he said. "I would ask that you remember me. Not as we are now, but as we were then." I frowned. I thought back to our Goblin Grove dances, to the simple wagers we had made when I was a little girl. I struggled to find the truth hidden within my past, but I was unsure which was memory and which was make-believe. "You do remember." He shifted closer in his seat. There was something like hope in his voice, and I could not bear it. The Goblin King lifted his hand. The table beneath us vanished, swallowed up by the earth once more. He placed a finger against my temple. "Somewhere within that remarkable mind of yours, you kept those memories safe. Too safe. Hidden away." Was the Goblin King the friend I had imagined- remembered- as a child? Or was he truly the Lord of Mischief, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality? I was restless and itchy within my own mind. He left his seat and kneeled before me. His hands rested on the armrests of my chair, but he was careful not to touch me. "All I ask, Elisabeth," the Goblin King said, "is that you remember." His words were a bass, their notes resonating in my bones. "Please, remember.”

RememberGoblin KingLiesl Vogler
Book:Wintersong
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“Light shone through a large crack in the wall of the maze ahead of us. A slim, slender silhouette cast a shadow against the passage floors. Der Erlkönig. I did not marvel then that I knew the shape of his body as well as my own reflection. I watched the Goblin King's shadow play his violin, his right arm moving in a smooth, practiced bowing motion. Käthe tried to pull me away, but I did not go with her. I moved closer to the light, and pressed my face to the crack. I had to look, I had to see. I had to watch him play. The Goblin King's back was turned to me. He wore no fancy coat, no embroidered dressing gown. He was simply dressed in trousers and a fine cambric shirt, so fine I could see the play of muscles in his back. He played with precision and with considerable skill. The Goblin King was not Josef; he did not have my brother's clarity of emotion or my brother's transcendence. But the Goblin King had his own voice, full of passion, longing, and reverence, and it was unexpectedly... vibrant. Alive. I could hear the slight fumblings, the stutters and starts in tempo, the accidental jarring note that marked his playing as human, oh so human. This was a man- a young man?- playing a song he liked on the violin. Playing it until it sounded perfect to his imperfect ears. I had stumbled upon something private, something intimate. My cheeks reddened. "Liesl." My sister's voice sliced through the sound of the Goblin King's playing like a guillotine, stopping the music mid-phrase. He glanced over his shoulder, and our eyes met. His mismatched gaze was unguarded, and I felt both ashamed and emboldened. I had seen him unclothed in his bedchamber, but he was even more naked now. Propriety told me I should look away, but I could not, arrested by the sight of his soul bared to me. We stared at each other through the crack in the wall, unable to move. The air between us changed, like a world before a storm: hushed, quiet, waiting, expectant.”

True SelfGoblin KingLiesl Vogler
Book:Wintersong
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