Moody and the Beast Read online

  Shadowvale isn’t your typical small town America. The sun never shines, the gates decide who enters, magic abounds, and every resident bears some kind of curse.

  Exiled king of the goblins, Robin Gallow, has no choice but to live in Shadowvale. That was the deal he made with his ex-wife and current queen of the goblins in exchange for the antidote to the poison she gave him. Now, the town has become his prison and his world is closing in on him. It’s enough to drive a man insane.

  Theodora “Moody” Middlebright wants nothing to do with Shadowvale or the royal beast she’s about to spend the next year of her life with. But her father owes the man a debt and he’s too unwell to pay it himself. So Theo has come in his stead. Doesn’t mean she’s one bit happy about it. But then Theo hasn’t been happy about anything since her mother died.

  Turns out, Theo’s sharp wit and brash attitude are the breath of fresh air Robin didn’t know he needed, and the two somehow hit it off. But when his trust issues and her secrets collide, their budding feelings for each other are threatened with extinction.

  Can Robin learn to trust a woman who’s kept her true identity hidden her whole life? Will it even matter if Theo thinks he’s the beast everyone believes him to be? Or will love give them both a brand new start?

  Moody and the Beast

  Shadowvale, Book Four

  Copyright © 2020 Kristen Painter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-941695-58-6

  * * *

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  Table of Contents

  MOODY AND THE BEAST

  About the Book

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kristen Painter

  Many thanks to…

  Chapter One

  Theodora Middlebright glared at the enormous rusty gate blocking her path. She tucked the braid at her left temple behind her pointed ear. She was knee-deep in weeds on an overgrown dirt road that clearly hadn’t been used for as long as this gate hadn’t been opened. She let out a long sigh that did nothing to make her feel better.

  Stupid gate. Stupid town. Stupid exiled king. “Anytime you want to open up, go right ahead.”

  Nothing happened. Of course it didn’t, because this wasn’t Limbo, and you couldn’t give commands to certain inanimate objects and expect them to obey like you could at home.

  But then, if she were home, she’d be getting up right about now to go work at the bakery. Then in a few hours, she’d leave that job, rush home with whatever day-old goods she’d bought for breakfast, make sure her father was all right, then dash off to her second job of cleaning.

  It was a hard life. Made harder by living under the rule of Queen Vesta. As monarchs went, she was probably pretty typical. She was as capricious as she was beautiful. She was occasionally kind, and she was occasionally cruel. Perhaps more than occasionally.

  Theo believed that was the way rulers were, because that random cruelty kept their subjects from getting too comfortable. Her father always said there were two kinds of rulers. Those who wanted their subjects to love and respect them. And those who wanted their subjects to fear them.

  Queen Vesta seemed torn between those choices, although in Theo’s estimation, Her Royal Highness leaned more toward fear with each passing year.

  But everyone gave Her Grace some leeway because they knew Queen Vesta had been tormented by the exiled king. How the incredible anguish he’d put her through had left her scarred and fragile. How she’d risked everything to save the citizens of Limbo and Livion, their sister kingdom, from being enslaved to the orcs. For that, Queen Vesta’s cruelty was grudgingly tolerated.

  It wasn’t like the citizens of Limbo had a choice.

  Regardless, Theo would still rather have been home. Well, mostly. At least then she would have been with her father instead of standing in the middle of nowhere trying to get a worthless gate to open and let her in.

  “Open, gate.” Nothing. She growled. Maybe she could pick the lock with her dagger, but with her luck she’d end up damaging the blade.

  Her hands clenched. She knew this was a chance for a year away from her problematic life, but she still did not want to be here. She shouldn’t be here. But here she was. Dang it. All because of her father’s bad choices, her unrelenting sense of duty, and her stubborn unwillingness to see her foolish father die in prison.

  Why did she have to be such a good daughter? Why did she have to be single? If she were married, this wouldn’t be happening. But to be married, she’d have to find a man willing to put up with her and everything that came with her. And she generally found that being around most people only added to her crankiness. She didn’t care if she had a reputation for being moody. Who wouldn’t be with her life?

  And, of course, if she were married, her father would probably be the one standing at this gate.

  That couldn’t happen. There was no way he’d survive what she was about to take on.

  This was all because she loved him. That much was obvious. Perhaps she loved him too much. She might even love him more than he loved his wagering. Because that was something he loved dearly. Did he love betting more than he loved her? His inability to stop gambling away all their money and family possessions certainly made her wonder.

  Her hand went to the little emerald-and-starstone pendant around her neck, one of the few things she had left of her mother’s. Certainly the most precious. Theo had managed to keep it from her father’s clutches by never taking it off.

  She also locked her bedroom door at night.

  She wasn’t sure he would have actually snuck into her room and tried to take it, but a locked door seemed like the best possible solution. Just in case.

  Enough of this. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at the offending hunk of vine-covered metal. “Seriously. Just standing here. Waiting.”

  The gate didn’t seem impressed. Not enough to move, anyway.

  She sighed again, this time the kind of long-suffering, out-of-the-diaphragm, heaving sigh that seemed to clear out every last bit of air from her lungs.

  With her next inhale, she thought that if her mother were still alive, she would have whipped Welten Middlebright into shape. His gambling had always been a p
roblem, but it had escalated after her death. Which was when his illness had set in as well.

  Caralynne Middlebright had been a sharp, loving, no-nonsense kind of woman. A little on the plump side, which had made for the best hugs, and a hard worker who’d always had a kind word and warm embrace for her only child. She’d smelled of sugar and vanilla and sometimes cinnamon. That’s how Theo remembered her mother.

  She’d been the guiding light that had kept Theo’s father on the straight and narrow. She’d also kept a tight hand on the purse strings. She’d worked long, early hours in the royal kitchens as a pastry cook. That money had kept them in good stead and sent Theo to one of the best lapidary schools in the kingdom. Theo had been happy then. They all had.

  And then Caralynne had gotten sick.

  Theo sucked in a ragged breath as the memory of her mother’s passing came crashing down on her, along with the anger and bitterness that always followed.

  If her mother had still been alive, Theo wouldn’t be standing here.

  But her mother wasn’t. And Theo most definitely was standing here. She swatted at a bug that tickled her neck.

  Theo glared at the gate a little harder. “Oh, for crying out loud, are you going to open or not? I know I’m not the one who’s supposed to be here, but I’m here to take his place. It’s all the same. You might as well let me in. I thought you were supposed to be magic, but I guess you’re just a dumb hunk of metal.”

  The gate didn’t budge. Not even a creak from one of the rusted hinges.

  That really didn’t leave Theo much choice. She’d walked here from the closest bus stop, which had to be six or seven miles away. She wasn’t about to spend the next couple of hours walking back. Besides, she didn’t have enough money for a ticket to the nearest portal to Limbo anyway.

  And what good would going home do her? Or her father?

  This big debt would still be unpaid. As would all his little ones, of which there were plenty. And all of that would only serve to darken her attitude further.

  No, she was here for the duration. The good news was she had youth and persistence on her side. Plus, she was strong. And had a talent no one knew about. A talent she’d kept to herself since she was a child, when her mother had told her it would be useful to her one day if she kept it secret.

  She glanced around to make sure she was alone and that her secret would remain that way. Seemed so.

  With a frustrated groan, she grabbed the tattered bag she’d dropped at her feet earlier and gave it a heave up and over the gate.

  It landed with a soft thunk on the other side. Then she shifted into her most favorite of forms and launched herself into the air.

  She flew up and over the gate easily, making only the slightest sounds, and landed on the other side a handful of seconds later. The gate had looked even rustier up close. She ruffled her feathers once before turning back to her human form.

  There was a road on this side. A well-maintained, paved road. Good. That would make traveling a little easier.

  She hoisted the bag’s strap onto her shoulder and set off walking. She took a few steps before stopping to look back at the gate. “Not so tough now, are you?”

  The gate did the same thing as earlier. Nothing. Then a breeze sailed past, and she heard creaking. Just a tiny noise that lasted a brief second. But she’d heard it.

  Stupid gate.

  With a frown, she started walking again. Her father had given her the map on the back of his indenture agreement, where it had magically shown up. But the paperwork was tucked in her jacket pocket. She’d had plenty of time on the bus to memorize the directions. As long as nothing had changed since the map had appeared, all would be well. She had decent recall, better than most goblins, maybe. Nothing extraordinary. But she was observant, and that helped.

  In all aspects of life, really. You learned more by letting other people talk than you did by filling the air with your own words.

  That was another of her mother’s lessons. Listen to learn. Not to reply. Those words suited Theo just fine. She wasn’t much of a talker. Never had been.

  Talking could get you into trouble. Being quiet rarely did.

  The road wound through a forest that was darker than the sky above because the trees were too close to let the light of the moon and stars through.

  Didn’t matter. Her eyes were sharp. She could see as well in the dark as she could in bright sun. Better, possibly. That was one of the gifts of being a changeling, the rare offspring of a goblin and fairy union. Typically, the children of a goblin-fairy marriage favored one kind over the other. But once in a purple moon, a changeling was born.

  Her mother had known right away what her daughter was and instructed Theo all her life to hide her truth. Caralynne knew all about hiding truths. Out of necessity, she’d hidden the fact that she was a fairy. Limbo was the goblin kingdom, and Livion was the kingdom of the fairies, the fae major. Not to be confused with the insect-sized fae minor who lived in most forests.

  The two kingdoms had been at odds for ages. So when Caralynne had married Welten, she’d kept her heritage a secret. A family secret, she’d liked to say.

  The truth would have meant the end of her job as a royal pastry chef. And a much harder life for all of them. At least until Queen Vesta, a fairy herself, had united the two kingdoms by marrying the King of Limbo. Traitor that he was.

  But old habits died hard, and even after the merge, Theo continued to hide her fairy blood as a way of keeping her connection with her mother alive. Besides, if people knew her truth, they’d like her even less. The fae, major and minor, could sometimes be sly and conniving. Of course, goblins had their faults, too.

  Theo wouldn’t have changed who she was for the world, though. Being a changeling meant she had the benefits of many of her forms, even when she wasn’t in them. Ordinary goblins, like her father, had better-than-human senses. But hers were even better than that.

  She thanked her fairy mother daily for those gifts. Theo thought about how her parents had met in the woods surrounding the kingdoms. He’d been fishing. She’d been hunting berries. Her mother had always said she’d fallen for Welten because he’d made her laugh.

  Theo could believe that. Everyone liked Welten. He was a charmer. That’s how he’d gotten away with being in debt to nearly everyone he knew for so long.

  But even the congeniality of friendship thinned when an imbalance existed. His illness had bought him a little more leniency, but as the illness became more serious, her father’s friends were starting to realize their hopes of being repaid would die with him.

  She swallowed at the knot in her throat. She didn’t want to lose her father, but every day brought the inevitable closer. She was terrified to lose him. Not just because she would be alone in the world then, but because she was afraid of what that would do to her.

  How much angrier would it make her? How much more would people avoid her? She had a reputation, after all. Of being moody and sour and therefore unpleasant to be around. Could it get worse?

  She didn’t want to learn the answers to those questions. Not now that she was going to be away from him for a year. And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing she could do but serve that year and get back to him.

  So yes, she’d do the allotted time. But she wasn’t going to be happy about it.

  If His Former Royal Highness thought he was getting a little ray of sunshine to do his bidding, he had another think coming.

  * * *

  Robin Gallow stood on the balcony of his quarters, watching the lightning bugs zip through the dark and dangerous forest surrounding his home. The red streaks of light they left behind were as beautiful as they were deadly.

  Those lightning bugs were his only real subjects now. Not that he wanted any.

  Despite the way he’d lost the throne, he didn’t miss being king that much. He certainly didn’t miss the complexities of royal life. Or the need to act a certain way around certain people, all in the name of diplom
acy.

  And he absolutely didn’t miss his treacherous ex-wife. May that deceitful fairy sink into the bog of despair, never to be seen again.

  He tugged absentmindedly on the braid by his right temple. Off in the distance, a low, feral howl broke the silence. A hellhound, no doubt. One of the rarer denizens of the dark acres. Still not as deadly as his ex-wife.

  He should be sleeping. But sleep had eluded him for years. Since he’d come to Shadowvale, really. Some nights, he managed it. But on most, like tonight, he woke after a few fitful hours and knew that was all he’d be getting.

  So he came out here to take in the air and think. Too much thinking at times. Enough that his thoughts were overwhelming. His head was stuffed with them. Thoughts of regret, revenge, and loss. Scenes he replayed over and over, wishing he could do them differently. On those nights, darkness pulled at him, and anger stirred in his soul.

  He fought it, but his life, such as it was, had become a rather melancholy exercise in maintaining his sanity.

  Still, he had a lot to be grateful for, and he tried to remind himself of those things. He had his health. Barely. His home was beautiful. Even if it was as much a prison as it was his residence. He had his job as foreman of the mines, which actually required far less work than he put in. But what goblin didn’t find joy in the presence of beautiful jewels?