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“I do not know,” said Meadowsweet, with no apparent regret.
Serilda flinched. It had not occurred to her that the portrait could hold as little sentimental meaning for the moss maiden as it had for her. “You don’t?”
“No. I had that locket for as long as I can remember, and do not recall where it came from. As to its special meaning, I assure you, I value my life more.”
“But … it was so beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as snowdrop flowers in winter,” said Meadowsweet, “or a newborn fawn taking its first shaky steps.”
Serilda had no argument for this. “What of Parsley’s ring? It had a seal on it. A tatzelwurm entwined around the letterR. And I saw the seal on a statue in Adalheid Castle, too, and in the cemetery outside the city. What does it mean?”
Meadowsweet frowned and looked to Pusch-Grohla, but the old woman’s face was blank as slate as she studied Serilda.
“I don’t know that, either,” Meadowsweet answered. “If Parsley knew, she never said, but I don’t believe she was any more sentimental over that ring than I was about the necklace. When we venture into the world, we all know to keep trinkets with us, in case payment is required. They are to us as your human coins are to—”
“This boy,” interrupted Pusch-Grohla, unnecessarily loud. “The one who spun the gold. What is his name?”
It took Serilda a moment to change the direction of her thoughts. “He goes by Gild.”
“You say he is a ghost. Not a dark one?”
She shook her head. “Definitely not a dark one. The townspeople call him Vergoldetgeist. The Gilded Ghost. The Erlking calls him a poltergeist.”
“If he is one of the Alder King’s dead, then the king controls him. He would not be fooled by this charade.”
Serilda swallowed, thinking of her conversations with Gild. He seemed proud to be known as the poltergeist, but it was clear to them both that he was not like the other ghosts in the castle.
“He is a prisoner in the castle, like the other spirits who have been trapped by the king,” she said slowly. “But he is not controlled by the king. He is not a servant like the others. He’s told me that he doesn’t know what he is, exactly, and I believe he is telling the truth.”
“And he claims to have been blessed by Hulda?”
“He … doesn’t know where his magic came from. But that seems to be the most likely possibility.”
Pusch-Grohla grunted.
Serilda wrung her hands. “He is one of many mysteries I’ve encountered during my time in Adalheid. I wonder if you might be able to shed light on one of the others?”
One of the maidens made a derisive sound. “This is not a social call, little human.”
Serilda felt her hackles rise, but she tried to ignore her. When Pusch-Grohla had no response, she dared to plunge ahead. “I have been trying to learn more about the history of Adalheid Castle, to find out what happened there. I know it used to be home to a royal family, before the Erlking claimed it for himself. I’ve seen their graves, and a statue of a king and queen. But no one knows anything about them. Andyou,Grandmother, are as old as this forest. Surely if anyone would remember something about the family who built the castle, or who lived there before the dark ones, it would be you.”
Pusch-Grohla studied Serilda for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than Serilda had yet heard it.
“I have no memories of royalty in Adalheid,” she said. “It has always been the domain of the Erlking and the dark ones.”
Serilda clenched her teeth. That wasn’t true. Sheknewthat wasn’t true.
How could even this woman, as old as an ancient oak, not remember? It was as if entire decades, perhaps centuries, of the city’s history had been erased.
“If you uncover a different truth,” Pusch-Grohla added, “you will tell me immediately.”
Serilda sagged, wondering if she was imagining the troubled look in the woman’s sharp eyes.
“Grandmother,” said one of the moss maidens, her voice thick with concern, “what possible use could Erlkönig have for this spun gold? Other than—”
Pusch-Grohla lifted a hand, and the maiden fell silent.
Serilda glanced around the circle, at their fierce and beautiful faces shadowed with worry. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I do have some idea what the king wants the gold for.”
