“I would tell you to keep that to yourself, but … well, no one will believe you even if you do tell them.”
The loud, rapid clop of a galloping horse drew their attention toward the road. To the north of the mill, a little bridge passed over the river, and they could see a single rider on a horse racing across. Serilda climbed to her feet, and for a short, gleeful moment, she imagined her father returning with Zelig.
But no—Zelig had been left behind in Adalheid, and her father was never coming home.
It wasn’t until the man started yelling that Serilda recognized him. Thomas Lindbeck.
“Hans! Goodman Moller!” he called, breathless. Panicked. “Serilda!”
With a quick glance to the witch, Serilda lifted her heavy, wet skirts and climbed up the riverbank toward him. She didn’t relish the idea of having to explain such an early visit from the schoolmistress or why she was covered in river filth, but—what did it matter?—everyone already thought she was odd.
Thomas stopped his horse by the garden gate, but did not dismount. He cupped his hands together and yelled again. “Hans! Seril—”
“I’m here,” she said, startling him so badly he nearly toppled off his horse. “Father is still in Mondbrück.” She and Madam Sauer had thought it best to continue that lie. Soon, she would tell everyone that her father had gotten sick and she needed to travel to Mondbrück to care for him. From there, Madam Sauer would spread the rumor that he had died, and Serilda, in her grief, had decided to sell the mill and never return. “And Hans certainly isn’t here. Whatever is the matter?”
“Have you seen him?” Thomas asked, trotting the horse closer. By all accounts, it was almost unforgivably rude for him to stay perched on his horse staring down at her, but his expression was so harried, Serilda hardly noticed. “Have you seen Hans? Has he been here this morning?”
“No, of course not. Why would he—”
But Thomas was already yanking on the reins, swerving the horse around in the other direction.
“Wait!” Serilda cried. “Where are you going?”
“Into town. I have to find him.” His voice started to break.
Lurching forward, Serilda grabbed for the reins. “What’s going on?”
Thomas met her eyes and, to her astonishment, did not flinch away. “He’s gone. Went missing from his bed last night. If you see him—”
“Last night?” Serilda interrupted. “You don’t think …”
The haunted look that twisted his face was answer enough.
When children went missing on the night of a full moon, it was easy to guess what had become of them.
She set her jaw. “I’m coming with you. I can help look. Drop me off in town and I’ll go to the Weber farm to see if they’ve heard anything, and you can check with the twins.”
He nodded and lent his elbow as she leaped up into the saddle behind him.
“Serilda.”
She jolted. She’d almost forgotten about the witch.
“Madam Sauer!” exclaimed Thomas. “What are you doing here?”
“Consulting with my assistant over this week’s lessons,” she said quite easily, as if lying was not a punishable offense after all. In different times, Serilda might have pointed out her hypocrisy.
Madam Sauer fixed a stern gaze on Serilda, one that had often made her feel as if she were barely an inch tall. “You should not be riding.”
Serilda frowned. Riding. The horse?
“Why ever not?”
Madam Sauer opened her mouth, but hesitated. Then shook her head. “Just—be careful. Don’t do anything rash.”
Serilda exhaled. “I won’t,” she said.
Madam Sauer’s expression darkened.
Just one more lie.
Thomas dug his heels into the horse’s sides and they dashed off. He did as Serilda had suggested, dropping her off at the crossroads so that she could run the rest of the way to the Weber farm while he went to look for Hans at the twins’ home.
Serilda refused to think the impossible. Would the hunt have taken Hans to punish her? To send her a warning?
If the Erlking had taken him … if the hunt had done this and Hans was gone, killed or stolen behind the veil … then it was her fault.
Maybe not, she tried to tell herself. They had only to find him. He was hiding. Playing a prank. Which was out of character for the stalwart boy, but maybe Fricz had set him up to it?
But all those desperate pleas shattered as soon as the Weber cottage came into view. As idyllic as always, surrounded by pastureland and grazing sheep, Serilda felt an ominous chill sweep over her.
The Weber family were all gathered on their front stoop. Little Marie was clutching at her grandmother. Baby Alvie was swaddled in his mother’s arms. Anna’s father was trying to saddle their horse, a speckled gelding that Serilda had always thought was one of the finest-looking horses in town. But the man’s movements were clumsy, and as she approached, she could see that he was trembling.
Her eyes searched their faces, all gripped with terror. The elder Mother Weber had a handkerchief pressed against her mouth.
Serilda searched and searched. The garden, the front door left open, the road and the fields.
All the family was there … except for Anna.
As Serilda got closer, they all startled and turned toward her with flitting hope that immediately came crashing back down.
“Miss Moller!” cried Anna’s father, tightening the bridle. “Do you have word? Have you seen Anna?”
She swallowed hard, and slowly shook her head.
Their expressions fell. Anna’s mother buried her face into her daughter’s hair and sobbed.
“We woke up and she was just … gone,” said Anna’s father. “I know she’s headstrong, but it isn’t like her to just—”
“Hans is missing, too,” Serilda said. “And I worry”—her voice caught, but she forced out the words—“I worry they aren’t the only ones. I think the hunt—”
“No!” bellowed Anna’s father. “You can’t know that! She’s just … she’s just …”
A black shape in the sky drew Serilda’s eye upward to a patchy pair of wings showing glimpses of blue sky between the feathers. The nachtkrapp circled lazily above the field.
The king knew.
His spies had been watching all year, and he knew. He knew precisely which children Serilda taught, the ones she adored. The ones that would hurt her the most.
“Goodman Weber,” said Serilda, “I’m so very sorry, but I must take this horse.”
He jolted. “What? I need to go find her! My daughter—”
“Was taken by the wild hunt!” she snapped. While he was stunned speechless, she snatched the reins and sprang up into the saddle. The family cried in outrage, but Serilda ignored them. “Forgive me!” she said, trotting the horse far enough away that Anna’s father couldn’t grab her. But he didn’t make a move, just gawked, speechless. “I will bring him back as soon as I can. And if I can’t, then I will leave him at the Wild Swan in Adalheid. Someone will return him, I promise. And I hope … I will try to find Anna. I will do everything I can.”