I couldn’t tell how long I was contained inside the dark confines of the phaeton. Thick, black velvet curtains shut out most of the light and my eyes struggled to adjust. I could see a slight shimmer of reflection on the bulbous eyeballs of the goblin who sat across from me, but not enough to make out its expression.

  It was enough to keep me silent. Nervous. On edge.

  Several times, the phaeton jerked to a halt, and I had to hold on to the seat to keep myself from falling to the ground – or worse, into my goblin jailer.

  A shutter to the front of the phaeton opened with bright glaring light and sustenance was shoved in for us – a tray of shortbread cookies and two hot chocolates, piled high with whipped cream and topped with sprinkles.

  The goblin snatched his, giving himself a whipped cream moustache as he drank greedily, glaring at me the whole time. The combination of Christmas novelty and malevolent energy was unnerving, and I tried to avoid eye contact, instead trying to take in the landscape through the short windows of time the outside remained open to us.

  The first time we stopped, there were trees outside. The second time, I could see mountains. The third, we were surrounded by snow.

  Dread filled me, because Bastion had been working on drawing up maps of Newtopia for months, and I knew they ended at the range of mountains to the north.

  Wherever we were, it was somewhere new. I wondered if Brick and Bruiser would ever be able to find us.

  I nibbled on my shortbread cookie, any feelings of hunger overshadowed by a deep nausea of anxiety. We would have to rely on our own wits and find our own way out of this mess, just in case.

  I wondered where Bastion and Jackal were, and how they were doing in that moment. While I was sitting tight in my fur-lined cage of a carriage, they would be walking out there in the snow. I hoped they were keeping warm, somehow.

  The final time the carriage jolted to a halt, I was already turned to the small window by the driver in anticipation, hoping for another clue on our location, but the door was yanked open instead. The goblin across from me grabbed me roughly by the elbow and shoved me towards the door.

  I stumbled down the narrow steps, which were designed for small goblin feet rather than my own average-sized human ones and held tightly to the rail with my eyes shut against the blinding whiteness that surrounded us.

  “Move, Krampus-wife,” the goblin poked me with the spiked handle of its whip.

  “Emma!”

  Jackal’s voice caught my attention, and I peered out through my eyelashes, holding my hand above my eyes to try and reduce the glare.

  The camp of prisoners had grown considerably, and several other black carriages circled them. The different armies of goblins must have converged with their spoils from every town. Jackal stood out, his height holding him above the group of humans and gnomes huddled near him. Bastion was close by, as well as the hulking mass of Grug the orc.

  I waved back at Jackal, and made to approach them, but the goblin yanked me back and pointed me instead to a large wooden building, covered in snow which was melting near the multiple chimneys protruding from its roof.

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  “What is that place?” I asked, staring at the black streaks of smoke the chimneys painted across the sky.

  “The workshop,” the goblin croaked, wrapping a blood red scarf around his face and glaring at me over it. “And your new home. Go.”

  “When will I get to talk to them?” I asked, pointed towards Jackal and Bastion.

  The goblin shrugged. “If the Krampus demotes you.”

  He jabbed me with the sharp spike on his whip’s handle again, signalling an end to the conversation, and urging me forwards.

  I gave a regretful look back to Jackal and Bastion, waving goodbye to them as I obediently followed the directions the goblin gave me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take the goblin hoard on in a fight, so I’d have to figure out another way to regroup with them later.

  I was led through a maze of hallways, past what seemed like an endless number of identical wooden doors and was finally let into a large set of living quarters.

  The room was warmed by a large fireplace and furnished with thick furs and velvets. The head of a reindeer was mounted above the mantle, staring down at me with glassy eyes.

  I grimaced, thinking of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and the team of reindeer that pulled Santa’s sleigh. Would this head have belonged to an actual reindeer once upon a time, or was it spawned in as-is?

  A click from behind me signalled the goblin had left, and I raced over to the door, trying the handle. It didn’t budge.

  Panic filled me, as I looked around the room. Why had I allowed myself to be led into this trap as docile as a lamb? Why hadn’t I demanded more answers from the goblin before he’d left? Or demanded the Krampus come and see me?

  Now I was trapped in a room without any knowledge of what was to come or why I was here. All I knew was that I was to be the Krampus’ wife, but I had no indication of what that even meant! Would he be expecting to be intimate with me? Or for me to fold his socks and clean his house? This world was full of sexist cliches, with the women in the town performing endless cycles of cooking, laundry and sweeping until they broke out of their programming and developed sentient awareness. Maybe the Krampus would expect a similar role from me. I could only hope.

  I kicked myself for sitting so long with my goblin guard without so much as engaging him in conversation. All I’d wanted while he was there was for him to leave me alone, but now that I was all alone, I felt the panic rise up in my chest, choking me.

  I circled the room, inspecting the windows, but they were sealed shut. I looked behind the thick curtains that draped the sides of the room, keeping the heat from the fire from escaping, but there was nothing behind them except walls and more closed, locked doors.

  I should have flirted with the goblin, tried to charm it into letting me know what to expect here, or into letting me go. I could have tried to make it submit to my pheromones and take me to see Bastion and Jackal. I was so used to not fighting, to relying on the guys to keep me safe… I’d forgotten to employ the one skill I had trained as a succubus, and now I was trapped and helpless and alone.

  My hands started shaking as I pulled things off the shelf – snow globes, Christmas ornaments, useless knickknacks of plastic or brightly painted wood. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I hoped in my desperation to find something. Anything. A clue. A weapon. A book of Christmas lore.

  Anything.

  The living quarters were one large room, separated by black velvet curtains on rails. Large leather couches bordered a rug in front of the fireplace, a huge mahogany table off to the side and a large four-poster bed that rivalled my own custom bed at the bakery. But that bed was designed specifically to fit my whole harem, if they wanted to pile in and sleep together – which rarely happened, since they all maintained their own preferences and private rooms. This bed, I realized, along with all the furniture, was sized to the scale of the Krampus.

  Fear rolled through me, and I suddenly wanted him to never show his furry face. I had to find a way out before he returned. I returned to my frantic job, pulling things from shelves and out of drawers, inspecting them and tossing them to the side when they proved useless.

  I piled the decorative objects on the rug in front of the fireplace, my panic gradually slowing to a constant thrum of dread and anxiety. My heartbeat felt loud, and time felt like it had slowed down. How long had it taken for me to pull the room to pieces? Five minutes? Five hours?

  The grey sky outside the window gave me no clues as to the time of day, and even if the sun was visible through the shifting clouds, I had no idea which direction North was.

  Exhausted, I collapsed on the bed and sobbed, my tears soaking into the thick fur blankets and I gave in to despair.