Serilda spent a moment looking around and wondering if she should offer food or drink, but she didn’t have anything to offer.
“Would you go change?” Madam Sauer snapped, making herself comfortable on Serilda’s cot, which was the only remaining piece of furniture beside the spinning wheel’s stool. “You smell like a slaughterhouse.”
Serilda looked down at her muck-covered dress. “I have nothing to change into. I have one other dress, but it’s in Adalheid. The rest of my clothes were taken to Mondbrück.”
“Ahh, yes. When you tried to run.” Her tone was derisive.
Serilda blinked at her and sat on the other side of the cot. Her legs were still shaky from the ordeal. “How did you know?”
Madam Sauer raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s what you told Pusch-Grohla, isn’t it?”
At Serilda’s perplexed look, Madam Sauer heaved a drawn-out sigh. “Shrub Grandmother did tell you to expect aid, did she not?”
“Yes, but … but you’re …”
The old woman stared at her, waiting.
Serilda gulped.
“You know Shrub Grandmother?”
“Of course I do. The moss maidens came to me this evening and explained your difficult situation. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you since the Snow Moon, but you just had to run off to Mondbrück, then Adalheid. If you would ever deign to listen to me—”
“You know the moss maidens??”
Madam Sauer balked. “Great gods. And you were my pupil? Yes, I know them. Also, keep your voice down.” She glanced toward the windows. “I do not think his spies yet know of your return to M?rchenfeld, but we cannot be too careful.”
Serilda followed her look. “You know about the Erl—”
“Yes, yes, enough of that.” Madam Sauer impatiently flicked her hand through the air. “I sell them herbs. The forest folk, obviously, not the dark ones. Also poultices, potions, and the like. They have good healing magic, but not much grows in Asyltal. Not enough sun.”
“Wait,” whispered Serilda, astonished. “Are you telling me that you’re actually a witch? A real one?”
Madam Sauer gave her a look that could curdle milk.
Serilda clasped a hand over her mouth. “You are!”
“I have no magic in me,” she corrected. “But there is magic in plants, and I am quite good with them.”
“Yes, I know. Your garden. I just never thought …”
Except, she had thought. A hundred times she’d thought of her as a witch, called her as much behind her back. She gasped. “Do you have an alpine newt for a familiar?”
The woman’s expression turned baffled. “What are you—? No, of course not!”
Serilda’s shoulders sank, more than a little disappointed.
“Serilda—”
“Is that why the moss maidens were here?”
“Hush!”
“Sorry. Is that why the moss maidens were here, on the Snow Moon last winter?”
Madam Sauer nodded. “And I understand that Shrub Grandmother was grateful for your involvement in seeing two of her granddaughters returned unharmed, which is why she has sent me to see if I might be able to help you.”
“But how can you help me? I can’t run away from him. I already tried that.”
“Of course you can’t. At least, not alive.”
Serilda’s heart skipped. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re lucky. A death draft takes time to prepare, but we have until the Awakening Moon. It’s a desperate solution. A bit like trying to milk the mice. But it just might work.” She pulled a stiletto knife from her skirts. “To start, I will need some of your blood.”
Chapter 47
The sun was bright overhead. A cool breeze made the air comfortable and sweet. Serilda stood in the garden that normally would be starting to flourish with peas and asparagus, beans and spinach, but this year, in her absence, had mostly gone to weeds. At least the cherry and apricot trees were growing heavy with fruit. The fields in every direction were bright green, and far off to the south, Serilda could see a herd of sheep in their fluffy coats grazing on one of the hills. The river was running strong and she could hear the constant creaking and splashing of the waterwheel behind the mill.
Altogether, it was as perfect as a painting.
She wondered if she would ever see it again.
Sighing, she glanced toward her mother’s hazelnut tree. The nachtkrapp was there again, in its favorite spot among the boughs. Always watching through those empty eyes.
“Hello again, good Sir Raven,” Serilda called. “Found any plump mice this morning?”
The nachtkrapp turned its head away, and Serilda wondered whether she was just imagining the haughty snub.
“No? Well. Just be sure to leave the hearts of the local children alone. I’m rather fond of them.”
It ruffled its feathers in response.
Sighing, Serilda let her gaze linger on the house a moment longer. She didn’t have to feign her sorrow. It was easy enough to pretend this was the last time she would be seeing it.
Turning away, she passed through the little gate and, barefoot, made her way down to the river, to her favorite spot, where a little pool of calm water split off from the shallower rapids. As a child, she had spent hours here building castles out of mud and rocks, catching frogs, lying in the shade of a whispering willow tree and pretending to see sprites dancing among its boughs. Now, she questioned if it had all been pretend. There were times when she’d been convinced that she really had seen magic. Papa would laugh when she told him, swinging her up into his arms. My little storyteller. Tell me what else you saw.
She sat down on a rock that jutted from the side of the shallow bank, where she could dip her toes into the water. It was refreshingly cool. Silver minnows darted in and out of the dappled sunlight, and a cloud of tadpoles gathered between two moss-covered rocks. Soon there would be a chorus of toads every night, which usually lulled her to sleep, though her father had liked to complain about the racket.
She took in everything. The clusters of spiny quillwort sprouting up from the shallow water. The ruffled mushrooms that had sprung up against a fallen tree trunk.
She waited until she could feel their presence. She was becoming good at spotting them now, and with a glance around she spied three nachtkrapp tucked into the shadows around her.
She rested her palms behind her on the sun-warmed stone. “You can come out. I’m not afraid of you. I know you’re here to keep track of me, to make sure I don’t try to run away. Well, I’m not running away. I’m not going anywhere.”
One of the nachtkrapp cawed softly, its wings bristling.
But they did not come closer.
“How does it work? I’ve wondered all year. Can he see me through your eyes? Or, your eye sockets … as it may be. Or are you always having to fly back to the castle and report to him, like carrier pigeons?”
This time, a louder, unruly cry from the bird highest up in the tree.
Serilda smirked. Sitting up, she slipped one hand into her pocket, feeling the smooth sides of the vial, how it fit perfectly into her palm.
“Whichever it is, I have a message for Erlk?nig. I hope you’ll pass it along.”
Silence.
Serilda licked her lips and tried to sound rebellious.