Page 117 of Gilded

“I’ll go to the castle, and … wait.”

Lorraine grunted. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”

Sighing, Serilda stood from her favorite seat beside the fire. “May I return tomorrow?”

Lorraine’s face wrinkled with unexpected emotion. “Dear girl. I most certainly hope that you will.”

Then she reached her arms forward and embraced Serilda. It startled her and filled her with more warmth than she would have expected. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to ward off the threat of tears.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Be safe,” commanded Lorraine. “And make sure that you have everything you need before you go. I will be locking the door behind you.”

The sun had dipped beneath the city wall when Serilda left the Wild Swan. In the east, the Chaste Moon was glowing somewhere behind the Rückgrat Mountains, tingeing their distant peaks in silver. This moon was meant to symbolize newness, innocence, rebirth. But one would not have known that this was the month of such tender optimism walking along the dim streets of Adalheid. As night settled over the city, lights vanished from the windows. Shutters were closed and latched. Shadows overtook the castle ruins, slumbering on their solitary island.

Soon they would awaken.

Soon the hunt would come storming through the town and into the mortal world. The hellhounds would howl, the horses would stampede, the riders would seek out what prey they could find—magic creatures like those whose heads graced the castle’s halls, or moss maidens and forest folks, or humans who weren’t wise enough, or superstitious enough, to sequester themselves behind locked doors.

Serilda arrived at the bridge just as the moon was cresting the mountains, casting its sheen across the lake. As before, she wasn’t fully prepared for the moment when its beams struck the ruins of the castle, transforming it from desolate ruins to a home worthy of a king.

Even if he was a wicked one.

Standing alone beyond the drawbridge, Serilda had never felt so insignificant.

The portcullis began to rise, groaning and creaking with the complaints of ancient timbers and iron hinges. In the next moment, the howls began, sending a chill down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried to stand straighter as a blur of movement within the bailey captured her attention.

The wild hunt.

A torrent of fiery hellhounds, enormous war steeds, flashing armor.

Riding straight for her.

Serilda yelped and raised her arms in a pathetic attempt to protect herself.

The beasts ignored her. The hounds moved around her like water around a rock. The bridge shook as the horses surged past, armor clanging in her ears and the cry of the hunting horn drowning out every thought.

But soon the cacophony faded to distant shouts as the hunters sped through the town and into the countryside.

Shaking, Serilda lowered her arms.

An obsidian horse stood before her, as still as death. She lifted her gaze. The Erlking stared down at her from his perch. Examining her. He looked almost pleased to see her.

She swallowed hard and tried to curtsy, but her legs were trembling and her curtsies weren’t the greatest on the best of days. “You requested that I stay close, my lord. In Adalheid. The townspeople here have indeed been most accommodating.”

She figured this bit of praise was the least she could do for the community that had so embraced her these past weeks.

“I am glad of it,” said the Erlking. “I would not have had the pleasure of crossing your path this night otherwise, and this will give you ample time to complete your work.” He tilted his head, still eyeing her. Stillreadingher.

Serilda held very still.

“Your skills have thus far surpassed expectations,” he added. “Perhaps I shall owe you a reward.”

She gulped, unable to tell if he wanted a response. Was this her chance to ask him for something? But what would she ask of him? To be left alone? For him to give up all his secrets? For Gild to be set free?

No—there was no reward he would give her that she would actually want, and she could never let on that she knew Gild, the poltergeist he so despised. And if he knew that the true gold-spinner had been inside his castle all this time, she didn’t know what he would do to Gild.

But she knew exactly what he would do to her.