No! he cries. He wants to comfort and caress her, but he cannot hold her, cannot touch her. He is a ghost in her mind, voiceless, silent, and incorporeal.
The shadows have had enough of his wallowing, and the inky black twines itself about his hands, his arms, and his face once more. But even as the old laws have him in their grip, the man he is struggles against the monster he is becoming. He closes his thoughts and falls away, holding the last bit of himself uncorrupted and pure. He reaches out for her one last time, pressing his name onto her heart.
Keep me safe, he thinks. Keep me human. Keep me whole.
And then he is gone.
A KINGDOM TO OUTRUN
the coach was to arrive in the morning.
To my surprise, that evening, several folk from the village paid a visit to send us off with gifts, well-wishes, and unsolicited advice. The baker and his wife brought sweets, the butcher brought meats, and the brewer delivered several kegs of beer to toast our departure. The inn’s guests mingled with the rest of the crowd, and before long, there was an impromptu celebration. I was touched by everyone’s coming and appreciated their gestures of goodwill, even if their advice was not quite as well received.
“Mind you watch after your sister, Liesl,” Frau B?cker said. “Beauty has its own blindness, and we don’t want our K?the falling in with a bad crowd.”
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” her husband chimed in. “And we needn’t worry about any men trying to take advantage of you.”
My grin tightened into a grimace, but I thanked them for the cake, which was a glorious confection of moist white sweetness. We did not have sugar to spare for such luxuries at the inn, so it had been an absolute treat, even if it did leave a bad taste in my mouth.
But before long, one by one, our well-wishers slipped out the door and into the deepening night, leaving our hearts heavy with anticipation, apprehension, and not a little affection for the tiny town K?the and I were so eager to escape. Mother insisted we retire to bed early and not worry about the chores, for we needed our rest for the morrow. By the glitter in her blue eyes, I suspected our mother wanted to retreat to the refuge of the kitchen to spare us the sight of her tears.
Constanze had passed the evening locked upstairs in her bedroom. Although I knew it was probably for the best, her unsociability stung. She had deigned to make an appearance for Josef’s farewell celebration, after all.
I was being unreasonable, of course, but a strange sort of melancholy had taken hold of me on our last night in the inn. I should be happy. I should be excited. My life was stretching out before me, a golden path lit by opportunity, a shining city of possibility on the other side. Yet I felt a curious sort of detachment from the prospect, as though I were experiencing my joy at a degree of remove.
There was a shadow on my soul. I could see the sensations I should be feeling, the consequences that I should be fearing, but everything was dark, murky, vague. A veil was between me and my inner heart. I thought of the old rector’s dire warnings and of Constanze’s terror of the Wild Hunt. I knew I should worry. I knew I should care. But all I felt, this night before the rest of my life, was exhaustion and fatigue.
Even K?the noticed my unusual reticence. “Would you like to pass the night with me, Liesl?” she asked, once everyone else had retired. We were sitting in the main hall before the fire, watching the flames burn down into embers. “I know I could use the company. It would be like old times, yes?”
As little girls, my sister and I had shared a bed while my brother had his own quarters downstairs. Back then, I had thought privacy the height of all luxury, wondering what it would be like spend a night without another treading on my dreams. And while I cherished having my own retreat, there were times when solitude had more weight than the feel of another’s limbs crowding my sleep.
“No, it’s all right,” I said, staring without seeing into the fire. “You go on ahead, K?the. I’ll . . . I’ll retire soon.”
I could see her reach out, then withdraw, her mouth twisting as it struggled to find words of comfort. I wanted to lift my hand, to meet her concern with reassurance, but I could not. My shadow enveloped me in a shroud, and I could not move.
My sister rose to her feet and made to head up the stairs up to her bedroom, when she paused. “Liesl,” she said quietly.
“Yes?”
“Go to the Goblin Grove.”
Even the astonishment that knifed me felt dull. “What?” I asked.
“Go to the Goblin Grove,” she repeated. “Make your peace and say your farewells. You cannot have a new beginning without an ending. Go, and be free.”
I toyed with the ring on its chain about my throat. “I’ll consider it.”
“What is your problem?” K?the’s eyes flashed, her voice filled with sudden vehemence. I was taken aback by the force of her anger, but more than that, I was envious. I wanted the strength of her convictions because my own resolve was weak. “What is it you’re afraid of? I am tired of bearing your emotional burdens, Liesl. I cannot carry them forever. I am not your crutch.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
She began pacing back and forth before the fire. “Ever since you came back from—from where you’d been, you’ve been barely holding yourself together.” Before I could protest in my defense, she went on. “You’re hot, you’re cold, you’re up, you’re down, you’re fast, you’re slow. I can’t keep up with you sometimes, Liesl. You’re like a top spinning out of control, and I’m continually watching—waiting—for any wobble that might topple you.”
I was stunned. Was I so changed by my time beneath the earth? I was a different Liesl—no, Elisabeth—than I had been before I entered the realm of the goblins, but I was still the same me. Still the same soul. Still self-indulgent, selfish, selfless, savage. I had shed my skin to emerge anew, more me than before. But had I always been this insufferable? Had I always been so tiresome?
“I—I—” Words withered on my tongue. “I didn’t mean—I’m so sorry, K?the.”
Her expression softened, but I could see that even my apology wearied her. She sighed. “Don’t apologize, Liesl,” she said. “Do. Stop wallowing and go find closure. Absolution or resolution or whatever it is, I am tired of holding your heart. Give it back to the Goblin Grove if you must. I can no longer carry it.”
My eyes burned. I could feel K?the’s pitying glance, but did not look at her. A hot tear slipped from beneath my lashes, and I tried very hard not to sniff. Stop wallowing, she had said. It was hard.
My sister leaned over and pressed a kiss to my brow. “Go to the Goblin Grove,” she said. “Go, and make peace.”
I went.
*