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“I care little of your desires.”
Serilda’s hands clenched. That seemed to be a common theme among these age-old beings, regardless of which side of the war they fell on. Nobody cared for the mortals caught in the middle.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said weakly. “I have nothing else to offer as payment for the magic. Gild cannot continue to spin gold to save my life, and he won’t do the work for free.”
“He can’t,” said Meadowsweet. “Hulda’s magic requires balance and balance is obtained through reciprocity. Nothing taken for granted.”
“Fine, then,” said Serilda, with a shrug that was more nonchalant than she felt. “No doubt the king will summon me again on the Awakening Moon and Gild will not be able to help me and I will fail his task and he will take my life. It seems I have already lost.”
“Yes,” said Pusch-Grohla. “You are very much sitting in the ink.”
“We could kill her now,” suggested Foxglove. She did not even bother to whisper it. “It would solve the problem.”
“It would solveaproblem,” Pusch-Grohla countered. “Nottheproblem. This Vergoldetgeist would still be within Erlkönig’s grasp.”
“But Erlkönig doesn’t know that,” said Meadowsweet.
“Hm, yes,” said the old woman. “Perhaps it would be best if the girl never returned to Adalheid.”
Gooseflesh speckled Serilda’s arms. “I’ve tried running from him. It didn’t work.”
“Of course you cannot run from him,” said Foxglove. “He is the leader of the wild hunt. If he wants you, he will find you. Erlkönig relishes nothing more than tracking his prey, luring them into his grasp, and striking.”
“Yes, I know that now. It’s just, we’d thought, I’d thought maybe there was a chance. He can only leave the veil under a full moon. My father and I had sought to travel far enough away that he would not be able to travel so far in one night.”
“Do you think the boundaries of the veil end at his castle walls? He can travel anywhere he wishes to, and you will have no idea that he is right there at your side, following your every move.”
Serilda shuddered. “Believe me, I’ve realized my mistake. Butyouhave been hiding from him for ages. He cannot find this place. Perhaps, if I could …” She trailed off as the expressions darkened around her. Even Meadowsweet looked aghast at what Serilda was suggesting. “Could stay here?” she finished lamely.
“No,” said Pusch-Grohla simply.
“Why not? You don’t want me returning to Adalheid, and despite the array of sharp weapons around here, I don’t think you are prepared to murder me, either.”
“We do what we must,” growled Foxglove.
“That is enough, Foxglove,” said Pusch-Grohla.
The moss maiden lowered her head. Serilda couldn’t help the burble of enjoyment she felt at seeing her chastised.
“I cannot offer you sanctuary,” said Pusch-Grohla.
“Cannot? Or will not?”
Pusch-Grohla’s knuckles tightened around her staff. “My grand-daughters are capable of withstanding the call of the hunt. Are you?”
Serilda froze, her mind flooding with foggy memories. A powerful steed beneath her. The wind tossing her hair. Laughter spilling from her own lips. Blood splattered across the snow.
Her father—there one moment. Gone the next.
Shrub Grandmother nodded knowingly. “He would find you even here, and your presence would be putting us all at risk. But you are correct. We will not be killing you. You once saved two of my granddaughters, and while that debt was paid, my gratitude remains. Perhaps I have another way.”
She unbent her legs and used the walking stick to stand on top of her rock, so that she was nearly eye level with Serilda. She beckoned her closer.
Serilda tried not to look afraid as she approached.
“You understand the repercussions should Erlkönig amass enough golden chains to capture a god, do you not?”
“I believe I do,” she whispered.
