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Serilda clicked her tongue. “Don’t spoil the ending for yourself,” she said, proud of how brave she sounded. Though in reality, she hadn’t been thinking of her own role in this tale at all.They say she was blessed by Hulda. That was it—the real reason the Erlking had wanted the princess. Not just for Perchta to dote on, not just because the child was so beloved among her people. He had believed thatshewas the gold-spinner. He had taken her for her magic, probably so she could spin golden chains for his hunts.
To this day, centuries later, he still didn’t know. He’d taken the wrong sibling.
Of course, Serilda wasn’t about to tell him that.
“The story still hasn’t revealed whether or not you kept the princess’s ghost,” she said. “Did you release her to Verloren, or is she still in Gravenstone? I understand why you couldn’t bring her back here, of course. The love the prince felt for her was so strong—surely, if he saw her, he would know that she was his sister and that he loved her very much. I think that’s why I haven’t seen the king and queen, either. You didn’t keep their ghosts. You couldn’t risk them recognizing each other, or their son. Maybe it wouldn’t break the curse entirely. Maybe their family and their name would still be forgotten by everyone, even themselves, but … that wasn’t the point, was it? You wanted him to be alone, abandoned … without love. Forever.”
The Erlking’s face was that cold mask he favored, but she was coming to know his moods, and she could see the tension in his jaw.
“How do you know the things you do?” he finally asked.
Serilda had no answer for him. She could hardly tell him that she’d been cursed by the god of lies, who somehow, it seemed, was as much the god of truths.
No. Not the god of lies. The god of stories.
And every story has two sides.
“You brought me here,” she said. “A mortal in your realm. I’ve been paying attention.”
His mouth quirked to one side. “Tell me—do you know the family’s name? Have you solvedthatmystery?”
She blinked.
The family’s name.
The prince’s name.
Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I don’t.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have seemed relieved at this.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “I am not a fan of fairy stories.”
“Thatisunfortunate, as you are in so many of them.”
“Yes, but I am always cast as the villain.” He craned his head. “Evenyoucast me as the villain.”
“It is hard not to, my lord. Why, just this morning you abandoned four children by the side of the road, their hearts devoured by nachtkrapp and their bodies left to the rest of the scavengers.” Her chest squeezed and she dared not look at the spirits standing at the king’s side, knowing she would dissolve into tears if she did. “I think you rather like playing the villain.”
Finally, a real smile graced his features, down to the sharp points of his teeth. “And who is the hero of this story?”
“I am, naturally.” Serilda hesitated a moment, before adding, “At least, I hope to be.”
“Not the prince?”
It felt like a trap, but Serilda knew better. She laughed lightly. “He’s had his moments. But no. This is not his story.”
“Ah.” He clucked his tongue. “Perhaps you are trying to savehim,then.”
Her smile wanted to fade but she clung to it. Of course she wanted to save Gild. She desperately wanted to save him from the torment he’d endured these hundreds of years. But she could not let the Erl-king know that she had met the poltergeist, or that she finally knew the truth of who and what he was.
“Once I’ve met him, I will let you know,” she said, keeping her tone light. She made a show of looking around the throne room. “Is he here? You tethered him to this castle, so he must be around somewhere?”
“Oh, he is,” said the Erlking. “And I regret it more days than not. He is a constant thorn in my side.”
“Then why not release him from the curse?”
“He deserves every bit of suffering he’s been given and more.”
