The woman said, “I check them every day or so, to make sure the markers don’t get lost in the snow. We plan to put up proper stones someday, when the war is over.”
I nodded. She adjusted a cross that was askew in the snow. I found another and did the same. As I did, I found myself weeping, weeping for George, who was dead, for Jack, who was God knew where, for Phillip, who was ruined and gone.
“What is the matter, my child?”
“Will it never end?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not for a long, long time, I’m afraid.”
She adjusted another cross, which was already covered in gray-green lichen.
When we had checked all of them, she said, “You needed help with something?”
I remembered myself. “Yes. I’m looking for a castle. It is said to be east of the sun, west of the moon. I’ve already been told there is no castle here.”
“Whoever told you that was lying!”
“But how can it be east of the sun, west of the moon?”
She took my hand and turned me in the direction of the low sun. “The sun, it sets in the west. We are east of it now.” She turned me the other way. “The moon will rise over there, in the east or southeast. It is a full moon tonight. When it rises, if you stand in the exact place in between them and look forward, you will see the castle.”
I looked where she was pointing, to the north. There was nothing but empty land, space for more graves.
“It’s not there now?” I asked, wondering if she was insane.
“No,” she said, “but it will be, at the moonrise. If you stay here, you will see it.”
She handed me the golden spindle she carried. “Take this with you, for your kindness in helping me. You may need it.”
Then she was gone.
6
I stood, waiting, I knew not for what exactly. The air had gone from cold to freezing, and the wind whipped through my body, my hair. I drew my coat around me. The heavy golden objects in my pockets clunked against my legs. I had Kendra’s mirror with me as well! I looked to where the old woman had said the moon would rise. It was not there yet. Behind me, the sun was beginning to set over the ocean. The sky was starting to pinken.
When I stopped being able to feel my feet, I saw the full moon, visible through the leafless trees. I turned, and the sky to the west was red as blood.
Then I looked to the center, to the plot of land the old woman had pointed out. Before me arose a castle, tower by tower, turret by turret, from underground. It was dark and grim, covered with dead vines, and it climbed until it reached the darkening sky.
There was a door that faced east, toward the rising moon. A single lantern shone by the entrance. I walked toward it, as if mesmerized. The snow seeped through my shoes, chilling me. As I came closer, I saw that the door was covered in cobwebs, as if no one had entered or left in a long time.
I knocked anyway, and waited. Finally, I heard heavy footsteps approaching, and the door opened.
I looked down at a woman who was short and squat, with a snub nose and big ears. Her hair was a glistening blue, and her face was covered with hairy warts. On her head, she wore a golden crown. The troll princess!
“Why are you here?” she demanded in a voice filled with blood and venom.
“I’m here to see my h—” I did not want to anger her. “I am here to see Phillip Harding. Is he here?”
She blinked but said, “No. I know of no Phillip Harding.”
Still, I knew the truth by her face. Her mouth had made an O of surprise when I had said Phillip’s name. “Please, I will do anything, give you anything, to see him.”
She looked interested. “What do you have to give?”
I thought about it and realized that the heavy objects in my pockets were currency. “I have a golden apple. I will give it to you, but in exchange, I wish to spend the night with him. Alone,” I added, lest she insist on staying with her husband. I figured out that staying the night would allow us time to plan his escape.
I plucked the apple from my pocket and held it out high, high enough that she could see it but not touch it, for I was far taller than a troll. It gleamed in the light of the full moon.
“Oooh.” She reached for it, but I held it higher.
“You must bring me to my husband first,” I said.
The troll princess stomped her foot. “He is not your husband but mine. But I want that apple. I will go to him and ask if he will see you. Sit down.”
She gestured to a dark and gloomy living room. I noticed there were no windows. Were the nights black in France too? Or did she just prefer to have no light, because she was so ugly? In any case, I sat on a dusty gray sofa, and she disappeared down a dark hallway.
It was a long time before she returned, maybe half an hour, maybe more. When she did return, she said, “All right.”
She beckoned for me to follow her. But I hesitated. It was too easy. Still, I followed her down the black hallway on cold floors made of stone.
Finally, she reached the doorway. In the shadows, I could barely see her hold it open.