Wintersong

“You thought what?” I returned. “That I would be grateful? That you can bring an instrument like this—so beautiful and so perfect—out of nowhere and expect me to be all right with it? I can’t—I cannot—” But I did not know what it was I could not do.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Color slashed his cheekbones. “Isn’t this what you wished of me? Your music? Time to compose? Freedom from your responsibilities?” He dropped the gown and stepped closer to me. The Goblin King was slim, but tall, and he towered over me. “I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m tired of living up to your expectations.”

“And I’m tired,” I said. “Of living up to yours.” We were so close we could feel the brush of each other’s breaths on our lips.

“What have I ever asked of you?” he asked.

Sobs choked my throat. “Everything,” I hiccoughed. “My sister. My music. My life. All because you wanted a girl who ceased to exist a long time ago. But I’m not that girl, mein Herr. I haven’t been in a very long time. So what do you want from me?”

Stillness overcame him, the calm in a storm, but I was the rage and wind and the fury. “I told you what I wanted,” he said quietly. “You, entire.”

I laughed, a high and hectic sound. “Then take me,” I said. “Take all of me. It is your right, mein Herr.”

The Goblin King sucked in a sharp breath. The fury inside me changed key, minor to major. The sound of his breathing transformed me, and I stepped closer.

“Take me,” I insisted. I was not angry anymore. “Take me.”

I yearned and I burned. There were scant inches between our flesh, separated only by the thinnest layers of silk brocade and linen. Every bit of my skin leaped and hoped for his touch; I could feel the radiance of his warmth against my skin, the space between just as alive as we were. My trembling hands seemed to lift of their own accord, fingers sliding along the buttons of his waistcoat, burying themselves in the lace cravat at his throat.

“Elisabeth.” His voice quivered. “Not yet.”

I wanted to tug at the lace at his throat, to pull him to me and crush our lips and our bodies together. But I didn’t.

“Not yet?” I asked. “Why?”

I could feel how much he wanted me, wanted this, but still he held back. “Because,” he whispered. “I want to savor this.” One hand twined itself in my hair. “Before you are gone too soon.”

I laughed bitterly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The corner of his lips twisted. “The longer you stay, the sooner you leave.”

That damned philosopher again. “What does that mean?” I asked.

“Life,” he said softly, “is more than flesh. Your body is a candle, your soul the flame. The longer I burn the candle…”

He did not finish.

“A candle unused is nothing but wax and wick,” I said. “I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out, than sit forever in darkness.”

We both stood in silence. I waited for him to close the distance between us.

But he didn’t. Instead, the Goblin King gently pushed me away.

“I said I wanted you, entire.” He pressed a finger against my breast, where my heart beat erratically beneath his touch. “And I will have you, when you truly give your all to me.”

Again, that hollow place within me echoed with pain.

“When you finally free that part of you that you so desperately deny,” he said, cupping his free hand around the back of my neck, “the part of you I have wanted ever since I first met you, then I will have you, Elisabeth.” He leaned his head close to mine. “You, entire.”

I could feel the feathery strands of his hair against my lips. I turned up my face to meet his, mouth half-open to receive his kiss.

But he did not kiss me. Instead he withdrew, leaving me bereft and empty.

“Only then,” he said. “I won’t settle for second best. I won’t settle for half your heart when I want your whole soul. Only then will I taste your fruit, and savor every last drop until it is gone.”

I shuddered with the effort of holding back my tears. His smile was crooked.

“Your soul is beautiful,” he said softly. His eyes swept over the wedding gown on the klavier. “And the proof is there. In your music. If you weren’t so afraid to share it with me, if you weren’t so scared of that part of you, you would have had me long ago.”

And then the Goblin King was gone, gone in a swirl of silk, and the faint scent of ice on the breeze.

*

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