The Hobgoblin's Bread

My life hadn't been great before the fae kidnapped me. My family shoved me into a stranger's house to work as a maid as soon as I could walk. Ever since my life had been mundane, exhausting, and unfulfilling, but at least I'd lived without having to question whether I'd be murdered at dawn.

I should've known better than to walk alone on such a foggy night, and I should've known better than to cut through the ruins even though it'd seemed safer than the woods.

But I did, and now I'm here. The faerie lord had deposited in a crumbling, old kitchen with the command to produce enough honey-bread to satisfy his entire court before morning dew coats the grass outside. If I succeeded, he would free me, but if I failed... he would feed me to the court instead.

The faerie lord hadn't really kidnapped me for bread though. He'd created this ultimatum because he was a sadistic creature that fed on others' fear and desperation. He wanted me to marinate in my despair before he claimed the price of my inevitable failure.

I refused to give him satisfaction though. One tear is all that I would allow myself. A single, steaming drop of compacted emotions, and then I gritted my teeth and began inspecting the cupboards. I opened and reopened each rotten door in vain hope for something useful to appear, finding spiderwebs, rats, and a hobgoblin instead-

Freezing, I reopened the cupboard I'd just checked. The small hobgoblin grinned back at me.

"Evenin', sir." I offered a polite, wooden curtsy. One should always be polite to hobgoblins.

The hobgoblin swept off a fur cap, roguishly bowing back. "Evening! I don't believe you're enjoying this lovely night."

"I'm not," I agreed. "Company aside."

"Perhaps I could improve it for you?" he offered, catlike eyes lighting mischievously.

"Perhaps," I agreed, although faerie bargains were dangerous. "Can you produce enough honey-bread to satisfy the faerie lord's court?"

"Easily!" The hobgoblin replied flippantly.

"At what price, may I ask?"

The hobgoblin cackled at my lack of care. One shouldn't ask fae such open questions.

"For the sake of annoying his lordship, I'll make my price easy, but something rare," he said generously and pointed at my face. "That tear."

I almost touched the drying tear track on my face in surprise. "This?"

"That," he wiggled his long fingers expectantly.

"Alright..." I'm glad not to share my moment of pain with the faerie lord anyway.

The hobgoblin gleefully produced a small vial from thin air, and the remnants of my tear glowed like stardust that flowed into the glass container before he stuffed it into his coat.

"Now, as promised." He held out his empty hands. "You have everything you need."

I stared, spluttering, "I have nothing!" Then all at once, I understood. "Fae don't need to eat, do they?"

"Enjoy freedom, mortal! I can't wait to see his lordship's face," The hobgoblin vanished, winking cheekily.

I smirked too, imagining it.