She began to read.
The origins of Adalheid Castle, presented here in its original state, have been lost to time and remain unknown to contemporary historians. As of the turn of the century, however, the city of Adalheid had become a prosperous community along the routes connecting Vinter-Cort and Dagna on the coast with—
Serilda shook her head, her hopes sagging. She turned back to the previous page. No other mention of Adalheid.
Frustrated, she finished reading the page, but the author made no further mention of the city’s mysterious past. If they cared at all that no one knew about the castle and city’s origins, it did not show in their writing. A few pages later, and the book’s focus shifted to Engberg in the north.
“Here you are,” said Leyna, using her toe to drag a small table a bit closer and setting down a platter of dried fruits and salted meats. “You missed the midday meal, so it isn’t warm. Hope you don’t mind.”
Serilda slammed the book shut, scowling.
Leyna blinked at her. “Or … I could see if we have any meat pies left over?”
“This is lovely, thank you, Leyna. I’d only hoped that this book might have a bit more useful information on this city.” She tapped her fingers against the cover. “For so many towns, it presented a well-researched and incredibly dull account, stretching back multiple centuries. Not so with Adalheid.”
She met Leyna’s gaze. The girl looked like she was trying hard to share in Serilda’s frustration, but that she didn’t entirely understand what she was talking about.
“It’s all right,” said Serilda, picking up a dried apricot from the plate. “I’ll just have to make a visit to the library today. Would you care to join me?”
Leyna’s face brightened. “Really? I’ll go ask Mama!”
“See the fishing boats?” said Leyna, pointing as they walked along the cobbled roads off the shore of the lake.
Serilda’s gaze had latched on to the castle—specifically, on the southwest tower, wondering whether Gild might be up there, watching, even now. Dragging her thoughts back, she followed Leyna’s gesture. Normally the boats were spread throughout the lake, but now a number of them could be seen clustered near the far end of the castle.
“Searching for gold,” said Leyna. She side-eyed Serilda. “Did you see him again? Vergoldetgeist?”
The question, so innocently asked, brought back a wave of feelings that made Serilda’s insides flutter. “I did,” she said. “In fact, I helped him toss some of his gifts down to the rocks and the lake.” She beamed to see Leyna’s eyes widening in disbelief. “There will be many treasures to be found.”
Adalheid was radiant in the sunlight. Flower boxes overflowed with geraniums, and vegetable patches were rich with cabbages and gourds and new seedlings for the summer.
Ahead of them, near the docks, many of the townspeople were cleaning up after the festivities of the night before. Serilda felt a tug of guilt. She and Leyna should probably offer to help. It might help to ingratiate her to the townspeople who still saw her as a bad omen.
But she was eager to get to the library. Eager to uncover some of the castle’s secrets.
“I’m so jealous,” said Leyna, her shoulders drooping. “I’ve been wanting to go inside that castle my whole life.”
Serilda stumbled.
“No,” she said, more sharply than she’d meant to. She eased her tone, settling a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “There is good reason that you all stay away. Remember, when I’m there, it’s usually as a prisoner. I’ve been attacked by hellhounds and drudes. I’ve watched ghosts relive their awful, gruesome deaths. That castle is full of misery and violence. You must promise never to go in there. It isn’t safe.”
Leyna’s expression tightened bitterly. “Then why is it all right for you to keep going back?”
“I haven’t been given a choice. The Erlking—”
“You had a choice last night.”
The words evaporated off Serilda’s tongue. She frowned and stopped walking, crouching so that she could grasp Leyna’s shoulders. “He killed my father. He may have killed my mother, too. He means to keep me as a prisoner, a servant—perhaps for the rest of my life. Now listen. I don’t know if I can ever be free of him, but I do know that as things stand now, I have no power, no strength. All I have are questions. Why did the dark ones abandon Gravenstone and claim Adalheid instead? What happened to all those spirits in there? What does the Erlking want with all of this spun gold? What is the Gilded Ghost, and who is he, and what happened to my mother?” Her voice hitched as tears prickled at her eyes. Leyna’s gaze, too, had become glossy. Serilda took in a shaky breath. “He is hiding something in that castle. I don’t know if whatever that is can help me, but I do know that if I do nothing, then someday he will kill me, and I’ll become just one more ghost haunting those walls.” She slid her palms down to take Leyna’s hands into hers. “That’s why I went back to the castle, and why I’ll keep going back. That’s why I need to go to the library and learn all that I can about this place. That’s why I need your help … but also, why I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger. Can you understand that, Leyna?”
Leyna slowly nodded.
Serilda gave her hands a squeeze and stood. They continued walking in silence, and had crossed the next street before Leyna asked, “What is your favorite dessert?”
The question was so unexpected that Serilda had to laugh. She thought about it for a moment. “When I was young, my father would always bring home honey walnut cakes from the markets in Mondbrück. Why do you ask?”
Leyna glanced over toward the castle. “If you do become a ghost,” she said, “I promise to always set out honey walnut cakes during the Feast of Death. Just for you.”
Chapter 35
Serilda had not expected the Adalheid library to be anywhere near as grand as the great library in Verene, which was associated with the capital’s university and heralded for both its ornate architecture and its comprehensive collection. It was a marvel of scholarly achievement. A haven for art and culture. She had known the library in Adalheid would not be that.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling a tiny twinge of disappointment when she walked in and found that the Adalheid library was only a single room, not much larger than the M?rchenfeld schoolhouse.
It was, however, overflowing with books. Shelves and stacks of them. Two large desks piled high with thick tomes, with more piles on the floor, and bins in one corner packed full of old scrolls. Serilda felt immediately comforted by the scent of leather and vellum, parchment and binding glue and ink. She inhaled deeply, ignoring the odd look that Leyna gave her.
It was the scent of stories, after all.