Lorraine’s expression was dark when Serilda entered the Wild Swan, her lips pinched in disapproval. All she said as she handed Serilda a key to one of the upstairs rooms was “I had your things brought in from the stables.”
The room wasn’t luxurious like those inside the castle, but it was comfortable and warm, with soft quilts on the mattress and a little desk with writing parchment and ink by the window. Her items from the saddlebags had been set neatly onto a cushioned bench.
Serilda sighed with quiet gratitude, then promptly climbed into bed.
It was well past noon by the time she managed to peel her eyes open again. The sounds of the city rumbled up from the streets below. Wagon wheels, braying mules, children singing a rhyming song to welcome the spring. Oh, if only it were warm and green, with birdsong evermore. Just give us this, dear Eostrig, and we will not ask for more.
Serilda pulled herself out of bed and went to change out of her clothes, only to find her shoulder throbbing in agony. She hissed and pulled down the sleeve to see the gouges left by the drude, now caked over with dried blood.
She debated asking Lorraine for help cleaning and bandaging the wound, but the mayor already seemed anxious enough over Serilda’s comings and goings from the castle, and she didn’t think adding an attack from a nightmarish beast would help matters.
More careful this time, she wriggled out of her dress and chemise and used the provided washcloth and basin to clean the wounds as well as she could. After inspecting the wounds, she determined that they were not as deep as she’d thought, and as the bleeding had already stopped, she figured that a bandage wouldn’t be necessary.
When she was done, she sat down at the little vanity to comb out her hair. There was a small mirror and Serilda paused, catching sight of her own eyes. Mirrors were a rare luxury in Märchenfeld, and she’d only seen her reflection a handful of times over the course of her life. It always startled her, to see the gold-spoked wheels looking back at her. It always gave some clarity to why no one ever wished to look her in the eye.
But she did not shy away. She peered at the girl gazing back, thinking not of the countless people who had turned away from her, but of the one boy who hadn’t. These were the eyes that Gild had peered into with such open intensity. These were the cheeks his fingers had caressed. These were the lips …
Pink blossomed across her face. But she wasn’t embarrassed. She was smiling. And that smile—she thought, somewhat bewilderingly—was beautiful.
Leyna was waiting for Serilda by the fireplace when she left her rooms.
“Finally!” she cried, bouncing to her feet. “Mama forbade me to bother you. I’ve been waiting for hours. Was beginning to worry you’d died up there.”
“I desperately needed the rest,” said Serilda. “And now I desperately need nourishment.”
“I’ll bring you something.” She dashed away into the kitchen while Serilda slumped in a chair. She had brought the library book with her, and she settled it on her lap and flipped it open to the title page.
The Geography, History, and Customs of the Great Northern Provinces of Tulvask.
Serilda made a face. It was precisely the sort of scholarly text that Madam Sauer adored, and she despised.
But if it helped her understand anything of that castle, it would be worth suffering through.
She started flipping through pages. Slowly at first, then quicker, once she saw that the first chapters were all an in-depth analysis of the unique geographical details of these provinces, starting with how the basalt cliffs had impacted early trade routes and led to the port city of Vinter-Cort becoming a hub of merchant activity. There was talk of shifting borders. The rise and fall of early mining towns in the Rückgrat Mountains. But only one mention of the Aschen Wood, and the authors had not even called it by name. The mountain foothills are largely forested and home to a wide array of natural beasts. Since the earliest recordings of civilization in the area, the forests have been considered inhospitable and have remained largely unsettled.
She came to a series of chapters on prominent settlements and the resources that had encouraged their growth. Serilda yawned, turning past sections on Gerst, Nordenburg, Mondbrück. Even Märchenfeld was given a small mention for its thriving agricultural community.
She scanned the pages of dense text. Occasionally there were splatters of ink where the author’s quill tip had snapped. Occasionally there were words crossed out, a small error fixed. Occasionally there were illustrations. Of the plants. The wildlife. The landmark buildings.
Then she turned a page and her heart snagged.
An illustration of Adalheid Castle filled up half a page. The colored dye was still vibrant, despite the book’s age. The image did not show the castle in ruins, but as it had once been. As it was on the other side of the veil.
Dignified and glorious.
She began to read.
The origins of Adalheid Castle, presented here in its original state, have been lost to time and remain unknown to contemporary historians. As of the turn of the century, however, the city of Adalheid had become a prosperous community along the routes connecting Vinter-Cort and Dagna on the coast with—
Serilda shook her head, her hopes sagging. She turned back to the previous page. No other mention of Adalheid.
Frustrated, she finished reading the page, but the author made no further mention of the city’s mysterious past. If they cared at all that no one knew about the castle and city’s origins, it did not show in their writing. A few pages later, and the book’s focus shifted to Engberg in the north.
“Here you are,” said Leyna, using her toe to drag a small table a bit closer and setting down a platter of dried fruits and salted meats. “You missed the midday meal, so it isn’t warm. Hope you don’t mind.”
Serilda slammed the book shut, scowling.
Leyna blinked at her. “Or … I could see if we have any meat pies left over?”
“This is lovely, thank you, Leyna. I’d only hoped that this book might have a bit more useful information on this city.” She tapped her fingers against the cover. “For so many towns, it presented a well-researched and incredibly dull account, stretching back multiple centuries. Not so with Adalheid.”
She met Leyna’s gaze. The girl looked like she was trying hard to share in Serilda’s frustration, but that she didn’t entirely understand what she was talking about.
“It’s all right,” said Serilda, picking up a dried apricot from the plate. “I’ll just have to make a visit to the library today. Would you care to join me?”
Leyna’s face brightened. “Really? I’ll go ask Mama!”
“See the fishing boats?” said Leyna, pointing as they walked along the cobbled roads off the shore of the lake.
Serilda’s gaze had latched on to the castle—specifically, on the southwest tower, wondering whether Gild might be up there, watching, even now. Dragging her thoughts back, she followed Leyna’s gesture. Normally the boats were spread throughout the lake, but now a number of them could be seen clustered near the far end of the castle.
“Searching for gold,” said Leyna. She side-eyed Serilda. “Did you see him again? Vergoldetgeist?”
The question, so innocently asked, brought back a wave of feelings that made Serilda’s insides flutter. “I did,” she said. “In fact, I helped him toss some of his gifts down to the rocks and the lake.” She beamed to see Leyna’s eyes widening in disbelief. “There will be many treasures to be found.”
Adalheid was radiant in the sunlight. Flower boxes overflowed with geraniums, and vegetable patches were rich with cabbages and gourds and new seedlings for the summer.
Ahead of them, near the docks, many of the townspeople were cleaning up after the festivities of the night before. Serilda felt a tug of guilt. She and Leyna should probably offer to help. It might help to ingratiate her to the townspeople who still saw her as a bad omen.
But she was eager to get to the library. Eager to uncover some of the castle’s secrets.
“I’m so jealous,” said Leyna, her shoulders drooping. “I’ve been wanting to go inside that castle my whole life.”
Serilda stumbled.
“No,” she said, more sharply than she’d meant to. She eased her tone, settling a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “There is good reason that you all stay away. Remember, when I’m there, it’s usually as a prisoner. I’ve been attacked by hellhounds and drudes. I’ve watched ghosts relive their awful, gruesome deaths. That castle is full of misery and violence. You must promise never to go in there. It isn’t safe.”
Leyna’s expression tightened bitterly. “Then why is it all right for you to keep going back?”
“I haven’t been given a choice. The Erlking—”
“You had a choice last night.”
The words evaporated off Serilda’s tongue. She frowned and stopped walking, crouching so that she could grasp Leyna’s shoulders. “He killed my father. He may have killed my mother, too. He means to keep me as a prisoner, a servant—perhaps for the rest of my life. Now listen. I don’t know if I can ever be free of him, but I do know that as things stand now, I have no power, no strength. All I have are questions. Why did the dark ones abandon Gravenstone and claim Adalheid instead? What happened to all those spirits in there? What does the Erlking want with all of this spun gold? What is the Gilded Ghost, and who is he, and what happened to my mother?” Her voice hitched as tears prickled at her eyes. Leyna’s gaze, too, had become glossy. Serilda took in a shaky breath. “He is hiding something in that castle. I don’t know if whatever that is can help me, but I do know that if I do nothing, then someday he will kill me, and I’ll become just one more ghost haunting those walls.” She slid her palms down to take Leyna’s hands into hers. “That’s why I went back to the castle, and why I’ll keep going back. That’s why I need to go to the library and learn all that I can about this place. That’s why I need your help … but also, why I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger. Can you understand that, Leyna?”
Leyna slowly nodded.
Serilda gave her hands a squeeze and stood. They continued walking in silence, and had crossed the next street before Leyna asked, “What is your favorite dessert?”
The question was so unexpected that Serilda had to laugh. She thought about it for a moment. “When I was young, my father would always bring home honey walnut cakes from the markets in Mondbrück. Why do you ask?”
Leyna glanced over toward the castle. “If you do become a ghost,” she said, “I promise to always set out honey walnut cakes during the Feast of Death. Just for you.”