Serilda did not understand how someone with such a dismal personality could coax such life from the earth, but then, there were many things in this world that she did not understand.
She did not wait long before Madam Sauer yanked open the door, already wearing a scolding look.
“Serilda. What do you want?”
She attempted a withering smile. “Good day to you as well. I’m looking for that book that I added to the school’s collection a few weeks past. I could not find it at the schoolhouse. Might you know where it is?”
Madam Sauer’s gaze narrowed. “Indeed. I’ve been reading it.”
“I see. I’m so sorry to have to ask, but I’m afraid I need it back.”
The woman’s lip curled. “You did steal it, didn’t you?”
Her jaw clenched. “No,” she said slowly. “It is not stolen. It was borrowed. And I now have the opportunity to return it.”
With a loud huff, Madam Sauer stepped back and threw open the door.
Thinking this might be an invitation, though it wasn’t entirely clear, Serilda took a hesitant step inside. She had never been in the schoolmistress’s house before, and it was not what she’d expected. It smelled strongly of lavender and fennel, with bundles of various herbs and flowers hung to dry by the hearth. Though Madam Sauer kept the schoolhouse tidy as a toadstool, the shelves and tables of her little home were littered with mortars and pestles, bundles of twine, dishes overflowing with pretty colored rocks and dried beans and pickled vegetables.
“I have the utmost respect for libraries,” said Madam Sauer, picking up the book off a small table beside a rocking chair. She spun back to face Serilda, brandishing the book like a mallet. “Sanctuaries of knowledge and wisdom that they are. It is most shameful, Miss Moller, most shameful indeed that one would dare to steal from a library, of all places.”
“I didn’t steal it!” said Serilda, puffing out her chest.
“Oh?” Madam Sauer opened the front cover and held it up so that Serilda could see the words written in dark brown ink in the corner of the first page.
Property of Professor Frieda Fairburg and the Adalheid Library
She snarled. “I didn’t steal it,” she said again. “Professor Fairburg gave it to me. It was a gift. She didn’t even ask that I return it, but I plan to anyway.” She held out a hand. “May I have it back, please?”
The witch pulled the book away from her reach. “Whatever were you doing in Adalheid, of all places? I thought you and your father had been traveling to Mondbrück all this time.”
“We have been traveling to Mondbrück,” she said through her teeth. “My father is in Mondbrück at this very minute.” The words only barely caught in her throat.
“And you?” said Madam Sauer, stepping closer while holding the book behind her back. She was shorter than Serilda, but her wrinkled glower made Serilda feel about as big as a mouse. “Where have you been returning from the day after the past two full moons? That is most peculiar behavior, Miss Moller, and one I cannot accept as a harmless coincidence.”
“You don’t have to accept anything,” said Serilda. “My book, please.”
Her insides were quivering, more from anger than anything else. But it was also disconcerting to know that the schoolmistress had been watching. Or perhaps she was repeating the gossip from town. Perhaps other townsfolk had noticed her comings and goings, always around the full moons, and the rumors were beginning to circulate.
“So that you can return it to Adalheid? Are you going there today? On the equinox of all days?”
Her words dripped with accusation, and Serilda didn’t even know what she was being accused of. “Do you want me to return it to the library or not?”
“I’m trying to warn you,” snapped the old woman. “Adalheid is a wicked place! Anyone with the slightest bit of common sense would do well to stay far away from it.”
“Oh? You’ve visited there often, have you?”
Madam Sauer faltered, long enough for Serilda to reach around and snatch the book away from her.
She let out a disgruntled cry.
“I’ll have you know,” Serilda added, “that Adalheid is a lovely town full of lovely people. But I agree that you should stay away from it. I daresay you would not fit in.”
Madam Sauer’s eyes blazed. “Selfish child. You are already a blight on this community, and now you will bring wickedness upon us!”
“This may come as a surprise to you, madam,” said Serilda, her voice rising as her temper overcame her, “but your opinion is not required.”
Turning, she stormed from the house, slamming the door so hard behind her that Zelig, tied to the fence post, gave a jump and a whinny.
She paused, fuming, before she turned and thrust open the door again.
“Also,” she said, “I will not be attending the Eostrig’s Day festival. Please give the children my heartfelt apologies and tell them how very proud I am of their work on the god figures this past month.”
Then she slammed the door again, which was awfully satisfying.
Serilda expected the witch to come charging after her, slinging more insults and warnings. Her fingers were shaking as she tucked the book into a saddlebag and untied the reins. It had felt good to yell, when she had been swallowing her enraged screams all month.
Serilda hauled herself into the saddle and spurred the horse down the road—toward Adalheid.
She did not try to take the forest route, knowing that Zelig would refuse again. As the sun traced its path across the sky, she was glad they had gotten an early start. It would be far into the afternoon by the time she arrived.
She still thought of the Hunger Moon, when the coachman had first appeared at her doorway. She had been nervous then, even a little excited. There might have been moments when she’d been afraid, but she realized now that she had not been afraid enough. She had approached it all like a great story and had loved every moment she’d spent telling the children about her exploits, knowing they only half believed her.
But now?…
Now her life was balanced precariously on the tip of a sword, and every direction was fraught with danger. Fate was closing in around her, and she couldn’t imagine how to escape it. Her father was gone. She knew now that she could never escape the Erlking, not unless he chose to let her go. Eventually he would find out the truth, and she would pay the price.
And she knew she should be terrified. She knew it.
But mostly she was livid.
This was just a game to the Erlking. Predator and prey.
But to her, it was her life. Her family. Her freedom.
She wanted him to pay for what he had done. Not just to her, but to countless families, spanning centuries.
She tried to use the long hours to concoct some sort of plan for this night. It wasn’t as though she could just stroll up to the Erlking, grab his hunting knife, and plunge it into his heart.
For starters, even if, by some miracle, she actually succeeded in such a plot—she wasn’t even sure if that would kill him.
She wasn’t even sure he could be killed.