He had killed them as if it was nothing. Such brutal deaths. And what for? Because he felt slighted? Betrayed? Because he wanted to send Serilda a message? Because he needed more gold?
He was a monster.
She would find a way to rescue Gerdrut. That was all she could care about right now.
But someday, somehow, she would avenge the others. She would find a way to repay the Erlking for what he had done.
The horse reached the end of the main thoroughfare, the castle looming before her. She turned and headed toward the inn, ignoring the curious glances that followed her. Always, her appearance made such a stir in this town, even if many of the townspeople had grown familiar with her. But today, her expression must have been its own warning. She felt like she was a dark cloud rolling along the shore, full of thunder and lightning.
No one dared speak to her, but she could feel their curiosity at her back.
Serilda alighted from the horse before it had come to a complete stop, and hastily tied it to a post in front of the inn. She barged in through the doors, her heart choking her.
She ignored the faces that turned toward her and marched straight to the bar, where Lorraine was putting a cork back into a bottle.
“Whatever’s got into you?” she asked, looking like she was tempted to tell Serilda to go back outside and try coming back in with a better attitude this time. “And why is your dress covered in mud? You look like you slept in a pigsty.”
“Is Leyna all right?”
Lorraine froze, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes. “Of course she’s all right. What’s happened?”
“You’re sure? She wasn’t taken last night?”
Lorraine’s eyes widened. “Taken? You mean—”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Serilda exhaled sharply when Leyna burst through, a tray of cured meats and cheeses in her hands.
She broke into a smile at the sight of Serilda. “Another night at the castle?” she said, her eagerness for more stories brightening her eyes.
Serilda shook her head. “Not exactly.” She turned back to Lorraine and, suddenly conscious of the silence of the restaurant, lowered her voice. “Five children went missing from M?rchenfeld last night. Four of them are now dead. I think he still has the fifth.”
“Great gods,” Lorraine whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. “So many. Why?…?”
“No one went missing from Adalheid?” she asked hurriedly.
“Not that I—no. No, I’m sure I would have heard.”
Serilda nodded. “I have a horse posted outside. Will you stable it for me? And”—she gulped—“if I don’t come back, could you please send word to the Weber family in M?rchenfeld? The horse belongs to them.”
“If you don’t come back?” asked Lorraine, setting down the bottle. “What are you—”
“You’re going to the castle,” said Leyna. “But it isn’t the full moon. If he took someone behind the veil, you can’t reach them.”
As if by instinct, Lorraine wrapped an arm around Leyna and tugged her against her side, squeezing her. Protecting her. “I heard something,” she whispered.
Serilda frowned. “What?”
“This morning. I heard the hounds, and I remember thinking it was so late … The hunt doesn’t usually come back so close to dawn. And I heard them crossing the bridge …” She swallowed hard, her brow tight with sympathy. “For a second, I thought I heard crying. It—it sounded like Leyna.” She shuddered, wrapping her second arm around her daughter. “I had to get up and go check on her to be sure she was still asleep, and of course it wasn’t her, so I started to think it might have been a dream. But now …”
A cold lump settled in the pit of Serilda’s stomach as she started to back away from the bar.
“Wait,” said Leyna, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle out of her mother’s hold. “You can’t get behind the veil, and the ghosts—”
“I have to try,” said Serilda. “This is all my fault. I have to try.”
Before they could try to talk her out of anything, she rushed from the inn. Down the road that curved along the shore of the lake. She didn’t hesitate as she stepped onto the bridge, facing the castle gate. Anger sparked inside her, coupled with that twisting, sickened feeling. She imagined Gerdrut crying as she was carried across this very bridge.
Was she crying even now? Alone, but for the specters and the dark ones and the Erlking himself.
She must be so afraid.
Serilda stormed across the bridge, fists clenched at her sides, her body burning from the inside out. The castle ruins loomed ahead, the leaded and oft-broken windows clouded and lifeless. She passed through the gate, uncaring if there were an entire army of ghosts waiting to scream at her. She didn’t care if she came across headless women and ferocious drudes. She could ignore all the cries of every victim this castle had ever devoured, so long as she got Gerdrut back.
But the castle stayed silent. The wind shook the branches of the wayfaring tree in the bailey, now full of vibrant green leaves. Some of the brambles that had sprouted like weeds now held red berries that would ripen to purple-black by the end of summer. A bird’s nest had been built in the overhang of the half-collapsed stables, and Serilda could hear the trill of hatchlings calling for their mother.
The sound enraged her.
Gerdrut.
Sweet, precocious, brave little Gerdrut.
She entered the shadow of the entryway. This time, she did not waste time ogling the state of things, the utter devastation that time had wreaked here. She kicked her way through the brush and debris of the great hall, startling a rat who squealed and dove out of her way. She tore down the cobwebs that hung like curtains, through one doorway and then another until she reached the throne room.
“Erlk?nig!” she shouted.
Her hatred echoed back to her from a dozen chambers. Otherwise the castle was still.
Stepping over a patch of broken stone, Serilda approached the center of the room. Before her stood the dais and the two thrones, held in whatever spell protected them from the destruction that had claimed the rest of the castle.
“Erlk?nig!” she yelled again, demanding to be heard. She knew he was here, shrouded behind the veil. She knew he could hear her. “It’s me you wanted, and I’m here. Give back the child and you can keep me. I’ll never run again. I’ll live here in the castle if you want, just give Gerdrut back!”
She was met with silence.
Serilda glanced around the room. At the shards of broken glass that littered the floor. The sprouts of thistles claiming the far corner, driven to live despite the lack of sunlight. At the chandeliers that had not lit this room for hundreds of years.
She looked back at the thrones.
She was so close. The veil was here, pressing against her. Something so ephemeral, it took nothing more than the light of a full moon to tear it down.
What might be happening to Gerdrut, just beyond her reach. Could she see Serilda? Was she listening, watching, begging Serilda to save her?
There had to be a way through. There had to be a way to get to the other side.