She was nearly to the drawbridge when she spotted a form lying in the shade of the wayfaring tree. Serilda drew up short, her heart sputtering. A sharp stitch dug at her side.
First, she thought, Monster.
But no. She recognized that chestnut coat, that dark brown mane.
Her second thought—Dead.
Her heart was pounding as she approached, tears already gathering in her eyes. Zelig lay on his side, eyes shut, perfectly still.
“Oh … Zelig…”
Startled, the horse’s head lifted, its frightened eyes landing on her.
Serilda gasped. “Zelig!” She ran to him, dropping her hands over his head as he gave a whimpering neigh. He nuzzled her palm, though she suspected he was searching for food as much as he was showing affection. She didn’t mind. She was already sobbing in relief. “Good boy,” she whispered. “Good boy. It’s all right now.”
It took a couple of tries for the old horse to get his hooves beneath him and scramble up to standing. She could tell he was still exhausted from the night before. Serilda found his tack discarded beneath the weeds a few feet away, and the horse didn’t balk as she put the bridle over his head. She hoped that he was as grateful to see her as she was to see him.
Now she only needed to find her father.
Serilda wiped the tears from her eyes and led Zelig across the bridge, his hooves splashing through the rain puddles. She told herself again and again that she was not being chased. The ghosts were trapped inside the castle. They could not follow her—not when the veil was in place, at least.
She was all right.
The streets of Adalheid were empty. There were no townspeople this time to gawk at Serilda as she and the horse emerged from the ruins. The mist off the water slowly cleared, revealing the timber-decorated buildings along the shore, water pouring down from the eaves and forming rivulets along the cobblestones.
She was eager to start for home immediately and see whether her father had made it back yet—to make sure he was okay—but Zelig needed food, so with a heavy heart, she turned in the direction of the Wild Swan. Maybe she could stable Zelig there for a few days and see if someone else might be willing to drive her to Märchenfeld, or near to it. But she knew it wasn’t likely, not in this weather. Too risky for cart wheels to get stuck when the mud was so thick.
The stable behind the inn was full of sweet hay and even had a bucket at the entrance full of small, bright red apples. Serilda led Zelig to an empty stall. He immediately bent his head toward the trough, eager to gorge himself on fresh water. Serilda left a few apples within his reach and headed toward the inn.
She stepped through the door and, leaving a little trail of rain-water as her cloak was soaked through, headed straight for the roaring fireplace at the back of the public house. It was a quiet morning, with only a few tables occupied, likely by guests staying at the inn. Serilda doubted many of the townspeople would be braving this weather, no matter how good the breakfast food was.
The air smelled of fried onions and bacon. Serilda’s stomach warbled as she tapped a gentle knock on the oak table.
“Well, if our local specter isn’t back,” said Lorraine, emerging from the kitchen with a platter of food. She deposited the food at the table by the window and approached Serilda, hands on her hips. “Locking up for the hunt last night, I wondered if you might be turning up again today.”
“Not entirely by choice,” said Serilda. “But here I am. Might I bother you for another cup of cider?”
“Of course, of course.” But Lorraine didn’t immediately head back to the kitchen. Instead, she studied Serilda for a long moment. “I must say. I’ve lived in this town all my life, and never once have I heard of the Erlking abducting a human and then letting them go, unharmed. Now, I’m not saying that isn’t a good thing, but it’s making me nervous, and I know I’m not the only one. The dark ones are terrifying, but at least they’re predictable. We’ve found ways to live in their shadow, even prosper. You don’t suppose that this arrangement you’ve got with the Erlking is going to be changing that, do you?”
“I would hope not,” said Serilda, a little shaky. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure how much I yet understand that arrangement. Right now, I’m mostly focused on trying to keep him from killing me.”
“Smart girl.”
Remembering what the Erlking had said shortly before sunrise, Serilda wrung her hands. “I should tell you that the Erlking has all but ordered me to return on the Chaste Moon again. He suggested that I should … er … stay here in Adalheid, so there is less distance to travel when he summons me. He said that the people here would be accommodating.”
A sour look came over Lorraine’s face. “I’m sure he did.”
“I’m not meaning to take advantage of your hospitality, I swear it.”
Lorraine chuckled. “I mostly believe that. Don’t worry. It’s easy to be generous in a town like Adalheid. We’ve all got more than we need. Besides, that castle is full of more darkness than my root cellar and more ghosts than a graveyard. I can venture a guess as to what you’ve been through.”
Some of the tension in Serilda’s shoulders evaporated at her kind tone. “Thank you. I don’t have coin with me this time, but next time I return from Märchenfeld I will be more prepared—”
Lorraine cut her off with a wave of her hand. “I won’t risk angering the hunt, whether you have coin or not. I have a daughter to think about, you know.”
Serilda swallowed. “I do know. I truly don’t wish to be a burden, but if I could let a room during the full moon?”
Lorraine nodded. “Consider the Wild Swan your second home.”
“Thank you. You will have payment.”
Lorraine shrugged. “We’ll figure that out when the time comes. At least you won’t feel that you have to con Leyna into buying your breakfast this time.”
Serilda flushed. “She told you about that?”
“She’s a good girl, but terrible at keeping secrets.” She seemed to hesitate over something, then heaved a sigh and crossed her arms. “I do want to help you. It’s something of my nature, and Leyna was quite taken with you, and … well. You don’t strike me as the sort who goes out looking for trouble, which is a habit I can’t tolerate.”
Serilda shifted her weight. “No, but it does find me often enough.”
“So it seems. But I’m not going to talk around the hot porridge. You should know that the people here are frightened. They saw a human girl coming out of that castle the morning after the hunt, and it’s got us spooked. The hunters don’t stray much from routine. People are worried what it might mean. They think you could be a…”
“A bad omen?”
Lorraine’s expression was sympathetic. “Precisely. Your eyes don’t help matters.”
“They never have.”
“But what worries me,” Lorraine said, “is that Leyna seems to be under the impression that you’re out for some sort of revenge. That you intend to kill the Erlking.”
“Oh? Children and their imaginations.”
Lorraine lifted an eyebrow, her expression challenging. “Perhaps it was a misunderstanding, but that is the story she’s been telling to anyone who will listen. Like I said, not much for secrets, that child.”
Serilda shrugged off her cloak, growing warm despite her damp clothes. Serilda hadn’t asked Leyna not to tell anyone. In fact, she’d fully expected her to spread the story to the other children. She shouldn’t have been surprised.
What was odd was that, at the time, she’d had no reason to seek personal vengeance against the Erlking. That was before she knew that he really had taken her mother. That was before her father had been thrown from his horse during the wild hunt. That was before this spark of hatred had begun to smolder in her chest.
“I assure you,” she said, “I don’t mean to bring any trouble.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” said Lorraine. “But let’s not imagine that the dark ones care for your good intentions.”
Serilda lowered her eyes, knowing she was right.
“For your sake,” Lorraine continued, “I hope you were merely trying to impress a fanciful little girl. Because if you truly think you’re going to do harm to the Erlking, then you’re a fool. His wrath is not to be tried, and I will not have my daughter, or my town, taking any part in it.”
“I understand.”
“Good. I’ll bring you that cider, then. Breakfast, too?”
“If it isn’t too much to ask.”
After Lorraine had bustled away, Serilda hung her cloak on a peg beside the hearth and settled into the nearest table. When the food arrived, she dug into it hungrily, surprised yet again at how hungry the ordeal at the castle had left her.
“You’re back!” said an excited voice, as Leyna plopped herself into the seat across from her, eyes shining. “But how? My friends and I were watching the roads all day yesterday. Someone would have noticed you coming back to the city. Unless”—her eyes widened—“were you brought by the hunt? Again? And he still hasn’t killed you?”
“Not yet. I guess I’ve been lucky.”
Leyna looked unconvinced. “I told Mama I thought you were brave, but she said you might be trying to get to Verloren before your time.”
Serilda laughed. “Not on purpose, I swear it.”
Leyna didn’t entertain a smile. “You know, we’re always told to stay away from that bridge. Until you, I’d never once heard of anyone crossing over and coming out of it, well, alive.”
“You’ve heard of people coming out of it dead?”
“No. The dead ones just get trapped there.”
Serilda sipped at her cider. “Will you tell me more about the castle, and the hunt? If you don’t mind.”
Leyna thought for a moment. “The wild hunt emerges every full moon. And also on the equinoxes and the solstices. We lock our doors and windows and put wax in our ears so we won’t hear them calling to us.”
Serilda had to look away, her heart squeezing to remember how her father had insisted they do the same. Had he not put the wax in deep enough? Or had he clawed it out in his sleep? Perhaps it didn’t matter. Everything had gone wrong, and she didn’t know if it would ever be right again.
“Even though everyone says that the hunt will leave us alone,” Leyna continued. “They don’t take kids, or … anyone from Adalheid. Still, adults always get nervous around the full moons.”
“Why doesn’t the hunt take people from here?”
“Because of the Feast of Death.”
Serilda frowned. “The what?”
“The Feast of Death. On the spring equinox, the day when death is conquered at the end of winter, making way for new life. It’s coming up in just a few weeks.”
“Right. We have a festival in Märchenfeld, too, but we call it Eostrig’s Day.”
Leyna’s gaze turned haunted. “Well, I don’t know about Märchenfeld. But here in Adalheid, the spring equinox is the most terrifying night of the year. That’s when the ghosts and the dark ones and the hounds all leave the castle and come out into the city. We prepare a feast for them, and have animals for them to hunt. And they set up a big bonfire and make a lot of noise and it’s very frightening, but also sort of fun, because Ma and I usually end up reading books by the fire all night long, since we can’t really get any sleep.”
Serilda gaped at her, trying to picture it. A city willingly inviting the wild hunt to run rampant through their streets for a full night? “And because you prepare this celebration for them, they agree to not take anyone for the hunt?”
Leyna nodded. “We still have to put wax in our ears, though. In case the Erlking changes his mind, I suppose.”
“But why don’t you just leave? Why stay, so close to the Erlking’s castle?”
The girl’s brow furrowed, like this idea might never have occurred to her before. “This is our home.”
“Lots of places can be home.”
“I suppose. But Adalheid … well. There’s good fishing. Good farmland outside the walls. And we get lots of merchants and travelers passing through from Nordenburg, heading to the northern ports. The inn’s usually busy, especially once the weather warms. And…” She trailed off, looking like she wanted to say more, but knew that she shouldn’t. Serilda could see her debating with herself. But the look soon passed, and she seemed almost eager when she asked, “Have you actually met any of the ghosts in the castle? Are they all terrible?”
Serilda frowned at the change in topic. “I’ve met a few. The stable boy seemed nice enough, though I can’t say I actually met him. And there’s a coachman. He’s … surly. But he has a chisel stuck in his eye, and that would probably make me surly, too.”
Leyna made a disgusted face.
“And there’s a boy about my age. He’s actually been helping me. He’s a bit mischievous, but I can tell he has a good heart. He told me that he cares about the people in this town, even if he can’t meet any of you.”
Leyna, though, looked a little disappointed.
“What is it?” asked Serilda.
“Is that all? You haven’t met a fairy? Or a goblin? Or some magic creature that can—I don’t know—make … gold?” She almost squeaked this last word.
“Gold?” stammered Serilda.
Leyna grimaced and hastily waved her hands. “Never mind. That’s silly.”
“No! No, it isn’t. It’s just … this boy I mentioned. He can make gold. Out of straw. Out of … well, just about anything, I suppose. How did you know?”
Leyna’s expression shifted once again. No longer disappointed, she looked almost ecstatic as she reached forward and gripped Serilda’s hands. “You have met him! But he’s a boy? Are you sure? I always pictured Vergoldetgeist as a helpful little hobgoblin. Or a kindhearted troll. Or—”
“Vergoldetgeist? What’s that?”
“The Gilded Ghost.” Leyna’s face pinched with guilt. “Mama wouldn’t want me telling you this. It’s something of a town secret, and we aren’t meant to talk about it with strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger,” said Serilda, her heart fluttering. “What exactly is the Gilded Ghost?”
“He’s the one that leaves the gold.” Leyna glanced toward the kitchen, ensuring that her mother was out of sight, and lowered her voice. “After the Feast of Death, there are gifts of gold left all over the rocks on the north side of the castle. Sometimes they fall into the lake. Most of it gets picked up by the fishermen after the feast, but you can sometimes still find pieces they missed. We like to go diving for them in the summer. I’ve never found anything, but my friend Henrietta once found a golden cuff that was stuck between two rocks. And Mama has a small figurine that her grandpa pulled out of the water when he was young. Of course, we don’t keep most of it. A lot of it gets sold or traded. But I’d say just about everyone in town has one or two trinkets from Vergoldetgeist.”
Serilda stared at her, picturing Gild’s quick fingers, the fast-spinning wheel. Straw transformed into gold.
Not just straw. He could turn almost anything into gold. He’d told her as much.
And that’s what he did. And every year, he gave the gifts he’d made, crafted from his spun gold, to the people of Adalheid.
The Gilded Ghost.
You may call me Gild.
“That’s why the town has prospered,” Serilda whispered.
Leyna chewed on her lower lip. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? Ma says, if word ever got out, we’d be overrun with treasure hunters. Or Queen Agnette would hear about it and raise all our taxes, or send the military to collect the gold.” Her eyes grew wider by the moment as she began to realize what a betrayal of her own town she might have committed.
“I won’t tell a soul,” said Serilda, grateful that, here at least, she didn’t yet have a reputation for being an unforgivable liar. “I can’t wait to tell him that you thought he was a troll.” At least, she hoped she’d have a chance to tell him, even if that did mean being stolen away by the Erlking yet again.
Or did it?
“Why do you think he leaves the gold on the equinox?”
Leyna shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t want the Erlking to know? And that’s the only night of the year when everyone else comes out to enjoy the feast. I figure it’s likely the only night when Vergoldetgeist is left alone in the castle.”