Then she slammed the door again, which was awfully satisfying.

  Serilda expected the witch to come charging after her, slinging more insults and warnings. Her fingers were shaking as she tucked the book into a saddlebag and untied the reins. It had felt good to yell, when she had been swallowing her enraged screams all month.

  Serilda hauled herself into the saddle and spurred the horse down the road—toward Adalheid.

  * * *

  She did not try to take the forest route, knowing that Zelig would refuse again. As the sun traced its path across the sky, she was glad they had gotten an early start. It would be far into the afternoon by the time she arrived.

  She still thought of the Hunger Moon, when the coachman had first appeared at her doorway. She had been nervous then, even a little excited. There might have been moments when she’d been afraid, but she realized now that she had not been afraid enough. She had approached it all like a great story and had loved every moment she’d spent telling the children about her exploits, knowing they only half believed her.

  But now …

  Now her life was balanced precariously on the tip of a sword, and every direction was fraught with danger. Fate was closing in around her, and she couldn’t imagine how to escape it. Her father was gone. She knew now that she could never escape the Erlking, not unless he chose to let her go. Eventually he would find out the truth, and she would pay the price.

  And she knew she should be terrified. She knew it.

  But mostly she was livid.

  This was just a game to the Erlking. Predator and prey.

  But to her, it was her life. Her family. Her freedom.

  She wanted him to pay for what he had done. Not just to her, but to countless families, spanning centuries.

  She tried to use the long hours to concoct some sort of plan for this night. It wasn’t as though she could just stroll up to the Erlking, grab his hunting knife, and plunge it into his heart.

  For starters, even if, by some miracle, she actually succeeded in such a plot—she wasn’t even sure if that would kill him.

  She wasn’t even sure he could be killed.

  But that didn’t keep the fantasy at bay.

  At least, if she failed, she intended to go down with the drums and trumpets. For now, she tried to focus on practical measures she could take on this, the night of the springtide. But even then, her thoughts quickly became muddled. She knew she must try to sneak into the castle. She would find Gild. If Leyna was right, he would be alone. She needed to talk to him. To ask if he might know anything about her mother. To ask about the history of the castle, and if the Erlking had any weaknesses.

  And, if she were being honest, she simply wanted to see him again.

  Thoughts of Gild came with their own persistent fantasies.

  The last moments of the Crow Moon had been overshadowed by her fears for her father, but she could not think of Gild without remembering that hasty kiss pressed against her lips. Hungry and wanting and then, simply, gone.

  She shivered at the memory, but not from cold.

  What had he meant by it?

  There was a small, quiet, practical voice that kept reminding her how much she should be dreading this return to Adalheid and its haunted castle. But the truth was, she wasn’t dreading it.

  She wasn’t dreading it at all.

  Because this time, she was returning of her own volition. She was Serilda Moller, godchild of Wyrdith, and she would be controlled by the Erlking no longer.

  At least, that was what she tried to tell herself as her ancient steed clomped slowly, steadily along the road.

  Chapter 29

  She had barely passed through the gates of Adalheid when it became clear that the springtide celebrations here were quite different from those in Märchenfeld. There were no banners dyed in pink and green hung over the windows and doors. Instead, the doors she passed were decorated with garlands made of bones. At first the sight made her shudder, but she could tell these were not human bones. Chickens and goats, she guessed, or perhaps even wild hares or swans from the lake, all strung with twine and left to dangle from pegs. When a strong breeze came through, they rattled musically against one another, a sorrowful chime.

  As the lake came into view, she saw a crowd gathered near the docks, but there was no cheerful music or robust laughter. Back home, the festivities would have been well underway by now, but the air here felt somber, almost oppressive.

  The only similarities were the tantalizing aromas of roasting meats and fresh bread.

  Serilda dismounted and walked Zelig the rest of the way toward the docks, where a number of tables had been set up on the street beside the lakeshore. The townsfolk bustled about, focused on their tasks as they set out a proper feast. Plates of sausages and salted pork, rhubarb tarts drizzled with honey and fresh strawberries, hard cheeses and shelled chestnuts, sweet cakes and steaming hand pies, platters of roasted carrots, ramps, and buttered radishes. There was drink, too; kegs of ale, barrels of wine.

  It was lovely, and Serilda’s stomach gurgled at the tempting aromas.

  But none of the townsfolk helping to prepare the feast looked at all excited about it. This feast was not for them. As Leyna had described, as the sun set, the castle’s residents would emerge and the streets of Adalheid would be overtaken by dark ones and spirits.

  Her attention went to the castle ruins, somehow still looking gloomy and gray despite the sunlight that glistened off the water’s surface.

  Though at first the townsfolk were too busy to notice Serilda in their midst, eventually her presence started to draw attention. Murmurs followed. People paused in their work to stare at her, curious and suspicious.

  But not outright hostile. At least, not yet.

  “Pardon,” hollered a voice, startling Serilda. She turned to see a young man pushing a cart toward her. She apologized and hastened out of his path. The cart was making an awful lot of racket, and as he pushed past her, Serilda peeked over the edge to see an assortment of live animals crowded inside. Hares and weasels and two small foxes, plus a cage full of pheasants and grouse.

  The man pushed the cart toward the bridge, where a group of men and women stepped forward to help him unload, leaving the birds inside their cage and tying the rest of the animals to a post.

  “Miss Serilda!” Leyna ran up to her, a basket of sugared strudel in her arms. “You came!”

  “Hello again,” she said, her stomach grumbling as the smell of sweet custard wafted toward her. “My, those look good. May I?”

  A look of horror crossed Leyna’s face and she pulled the basket out of reach before Serilda had even lifted her hand. “It’s for the feast!” she hissed, lowering her voice.

  “Well, yes, I figured,” said Serilda, glancing at the overflowing tables. Bending forward, she whispered, “I doubt anyone will notice?”

  Leyna gave a hasty shake of her head. “Better not. It isn’t for us, you know.”

  “But do the hunters really have such impressive appetites?”

  Leyna made a sour face. “Seems a waste to me, too.” She approached the table and Serilda shifted a few trays so Leyna had a place to set the basket.

  “It must be vexing to work so hard, only to give it away to the tyrants who lurk in that castle.”

  “It can be,” said Leyna with a shrug. “But once everything is ready, we’ll head home and Mama always has some extras set aside for us. Then we’ll spend the night reading ghost stories by the fire and sneaking glimpses of the Feast of Death through the curtains. It’s positively horrifying, but also one of my favorite nights of the year.”

  “You aren’t afraid to spy on them?”

  “I don’t think they care much about us, so long as we provide the feast, and the game. Though last year, I swear one of the ghosts looked up at me the exact moment I peeked through the curtains, like they’d been waiting for it. I shrieked, nearly gave Mama a heart attack. I was sent to bed after that.” She shuddered. “Didn’t get much sleep though.”

  Serilda grinned. “What about Vergoldetgeist? Have you ever seen him during your spying?”

  “Oh no. All the gold shows up on the north side of the castle. We can’t see it from the town. They say he’s the only one who doesn’t come out to the party, and maybe he’s bitter about not being invited.”

  “How do they know he’s the only one that doesn’t come?”

  Leyna opened her mouth, but hesitated, her brow furrowing. “I have no idea. That’s just how the story goes.”

  “Perhaps the Gilded Ghost is bitter about not being included, but I don’t think he cares much for the dark ones, so it’s probably just as well.”

  “Did he tell you that?” asked Leyna, eyes shining, eager for any tidbit of gossip from the walls of the castle.

  “Oh yes. It isn’t such a secret. He and the Erlking are not fond of each other.”

  A teasing smile came over Leyna’s cheeks. “You like him, don’t you?”

  Serilda tensed. “What?”

  “Vergoldetgeist. Your eyes turn extra gold when you talk about him.”

  “They do?” Serilda pressed her fingers to the corner of her eye. She’d never heard of the golden wheels changing before.

  “Is that a secret?”

  “My eyes?”

  “No!” Leyna laughed. “That you are taken with a ghost.”

  Heat rushed into Serilda’s cheeks. “That’s silly. He’s helping me, is all.” She bent closer. “But I do have a secret, if you wish to hear it.”

  Leyna’s eyes widened and she leaned in.

  “I’ve decided to go into the castle tonight,” she said. “When the dark ones are all at their feast, I’m going to sneak in and see if I can find the Gilded Ghost and talk to him.”

  “I knew it,” Leyna breathed. “I knew that was why you’d come today.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, though Serilda couldn’t tell if she was excited, or trying to keep warm as the sun sank into the lake. “How are you going to get past the feast?”

  “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

  Leyna bit her lower lip, considering. “Well, if it were me—”

  “Leyna!”

  They both jumped and turned around. Serilda was sure they could not have looked any guiltier if they’d each been holding a piece of cake from the feast table.

  “Hello, Mama,” said Leyna as her mother picked her way through the crowd.

  “Professor Fairburg has got two more baskets to bring down. Run on and help her, would you?”

  “Of course, Mama,” Leyna chirped before darting down the street.

  Lorraine paused a few feet from Serilda. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you back here again.” She smiled, but it wasn’t that same cheery, dimpled smile she’d had before. If anything, she seemed a bit frazzled. Which was to be suspected, Serilda supposed, given the occasion.

  “Everyone seems so busy,” said Serilda. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Oh, we’re just about finished. Not a moment too soon, as per usual.” She nodded toward the horizon, where the sun was just kissing the distant city wall. “Every year I tell myself, I’ll be extra prepared. We’ll be ready by noon! But somehow, there’s always more to do than I think.”

  As she spoke, another cart arrived carrying yet more hunting game—mostly rabbits, from what Serilda could see.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you until the full moon,” said Lorraine. She started to walk along the feast tables, adjusting platters and small clay vases full of herbs. “Has the Erlking requested your presence for the equinox as well?”

  “Not exactly, no,” said Serilda. “But Leyna was telling me something of the feast, and I wanted to see it for myself. Besides, I have questions for the Erlking. And since he doesn’t seem interested in conversation on the nights of the full moon, when he is busy with the hunt, I thought this might be a better opportunity.”

  The mayor froze and stared at her as if she’d started speaking another language. “You mean to … have a conversation? With the Erlking? During the Feast of Death?” She barked a laugh. “Oh, dearest! Do you not understand who he is? What he’s done? If you approach him tonight, of all nights, to … to ask questions?” She laughed again. “You’ll be asking him to skin you alive! To pluck out your eyeballs and feed them to the hounds. To tear your fingers off one by one and—”

  “All right, thank you. I see your point.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.” Lorraine stepped closer, all signs of mirth erased. “They are not human, and they have no sympathy for us mortals. Can’t you see that?”

  Serilda gulped. “I don’t think he will kill me. He still wants gold from me, after all.”

  Lorraine shook her head. “You seem to be playing a game for which you do not know all the rules. Heed my advice. If the king is not expecting you tonight, then take a room at the inn and stay put until morning. Otherwise you are risking your life for nothing.”

  Serilda’s gaze swept toward the castle. “I do appreciate your concern.”

  “But you’re not going to listen to me.”

  Serilda pursed her lips apologetically.

  “I have a daughter. You might be older, but I recognize that look all the same.” Lorraine stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Do not anger the Erlking. Not tonight. Everything must go perfectly.”

  Serilda was startled by the vehemence in Lorraine’s tone. “What do you mean?”

  Lorraine gestured toward the tables. “You think we do all this to be good neighbors?” She shook her head, a shadow eclipsing her eyes. “There was a time when our children would go missing, too. But our ancestors began tempting the hunt with this feast on the spring equinox, the gift of game to be hunted in our streets. We hoped to appease them, to gain their favor, so they would leave our city and our families alone.” Her face pinched with distress. “My heart aches, of course, for the loved ones who go missing from other towns, especially when I hear of innocent children being taken. I can only imagine the pain a parent would feel. But because of this feast, they are not taken from Adalheid, and I will not risk you interfering.”

  “But you are still afraid,” said Serilda. “You might have found a way to make peace with the dark ones, but you are still afraid of them.”

  “Of course I’m afraid of them! Everyone should be. You should be far more afraid of them than you seem to be.”

  “Madam Mayor!”

  Lorraine looked past Serilda’s shoulder, then straightened as the librarian, Frieda, hurried toward them with Leyna on her heels.

  “They’re bringing out the god of death,” said Frieda. She paused with a smile at Serilda. “Hello again. Leyna told me you would be watching the spectacle with us. It’s terrifying, but … still a sight worth seeing.”

  “With … us?” asked Lorraine.

  Frieda flushed, but Leyna stepped forward with a wily grin. “I invited Frieda to stay at the inn tonight! It’s far too scary to be home alone during the Feast of Death.”

  “If it isn’t any trouble…,” said Frieda.

  “Oh! No, no trouble at all. I believe we have spare rooms available for you and for the young miss.” She glanced at Serilda. “If you are planning to stay, that is?”

  “A room would be much appreciated, thank you.”

  “Good. It’s decided, then.”

  “We should hurry, shouldn’t we?” said Leyna. “It’s getting dark.”

  “Indeed it is.” Lorraine started toward the castle bridge, where townspeople—many carrying lanterns as dusk claimed the city—had gathered around the tables and the leashed animals. Serilda lingered toward the back of their group. When Leyna noticed, she slowed her steps so that Serilda could catch up.

  “Why is she mad at you?” Leyna whispered.

  “I don’t think she’s mad, just worried,” Serilda answered. “I can’t say that I blame her.”

  Ahead, a group of people carried what looked like a scarecrow painted up like a skeleton. Together, they attached it to a small plain boat waiting off the dock nearest the castle bridge, where Serilda had seen Leyna and her friends playing all those weeks before.

  “We make effigies of the gods, too, in Märchenfeld,” she told Leyna. “So they can watch over the festival and give us their blessings.”

  Leyna shot her a baffled look. “Blessings?”

  She nodded. “We give them flowers and gifts. It isn’t the same here?”

  With a cackle, Leyna gestured toward the skeletal figure. “We only make Velos, and we give it to the hunters, along with all the quarry. You saw the hares and the foxes?”

  Serilda nodded.

  “They’ll be released so the hunt can chase them through the city. Once they’ve all been captured, they kill them and throw the meat onto the god of death and … and then the hounds have their feast.”

  Serilda cringed. “That sounds gruesome.”

  “Mama says it’s because the dark ones are at war with death. Have been ever since they escaped Verloren.”

  “Maybe,” said Serilda. “Or maybe this is one way he can get revenge.”

  “Revenge for what?”

  Serilda glanced down at the girl, thinking about the story she’d told to Gild about the prince slaying the huntress Perchta, and the god of death taking her spirit back to Verloren.

  But that was just a story. One that had woven itself in her mind’s eye, like a tapestry on the loom, each thread gradually adding to the image until the scene slowly took shape.

  It was not real.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I’m sure your mother is right. The god of death kept the dark ones trapped in Verloren for a long time. I’m sure they’re still resentful about it.”

  At the front of the crowd, Madam Mayor started to make a speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and explaining to them why this night was so important, though Serilda doubted anyone needed reminding.

  At one point, she looked about to say something more, but then her gaze darted to Serilda and she caught herself, instead stammering out something about breakfast at the public house tomorrow morning, in celebration of another successful feast.