Page 170 of Gilded

“What?” Serilda launched herself to her feet. “You can’t!”

“Surely I can. Well … he can.” The Erlking’s fingers danced in the man’s direction. “Can’t you, Redmond?”

Redmond grumbled to himself for a moment as he opened a brown sack at his waist and pulled out a small bundle of fabric. “Never have before, but I don’t see why I couldn’t.”

“Redmond was a barber by trade,” said the Erlking, “and a surgeon as required.”

Serilda shook her head. “It will kill me.”

“We have very good healers,” said the Erlking. “I will ensure that it doesn’t.”

“Probably won’t ever carry a babe again,” added Redmond. He looked at the king, not Serilda. “Suppose that’s all right?”

“Yes, fine,” said the Erlking.

Serilda let out a dismayed cry. “No! That is not fine!”

Ignoring her, Redmond paced to a nearby table and unspooled the fabric, revealing a series of sharp tools. Scissors. Scalpels. Wrenches and pliers and terrifying things that Serilda didn’t know the names for. Her knees quaked as she stepped back. Her eyes darted around and for the first time she realized that the bloodied gateway was gone. Her path to the other side of the veil.

Surely it was still there. She had opened it once, she could open it again. Buthow?

Then, another sobering thought.

Gerdrut.

She still hadn’t saved Gerdrut.

Where was he keeping the child? She couldn’t leave her, not even to save herself, not even to save her baby.

“It’s been a while,” mused Redmond, holding up a tiny blade. “But this should do it.” He glanced at the king. “Is it to be done here?”

“No!” Serilda screeched.

The Erlking looked irritated with her outburst. “Of course not. You can use one of the rooms in the north wing.”

With a nod, the man started gathering up his tools again.

“No!” she shouted again, louder this time. “You can’t do this.”

“You are not at liberty to tell me what I can and can’t do. This is my kingdom. You and the gifts of Hulda belong to me now.”

The words might have been a slap for how they left her speechless.

She drew herself up, solidifying her legs beneath her. She had one chance to persuade him. One chance to save this unborn life inside of her.

“No, my lord. You can’t do this because it won’t work. It won’t bring my magic back.”

His eyes narrowed. “If that is true, then best slit your throat and be done with the both of you.”

She tried to hide her shudder. “If that is your will, I cannot stop you. But do you not think that Hulda might have an intention for this child? To take its life so soon, you are interfering with the will of a god.”

“I care little for the wills of gods.”

“Be that as it may,” she said, taking a step forward, “you and I both know that they can be powerful allies. If it wasn’t for the gift of Hulda, I never could have spun that gold for you.” She paused before continuing, “What might the blessing be for my child? What power might be growing inside me, even now? And yes—I know I am asking for your patience, for not just the next nine—eight months, but for years, potentially, before we know what gift this child carries. But you are eternal. What is a few years, a decade? If you kill me, if you kill this baby, then you are squandering a great opportunity. You told me the young princess was also blessed by Hulda. That her death was a waste. But you are not a wasteful king. Don’t make that mistake again.”

He held her gaze for a long time, while Serilda’s heart thumped erratically and her breaths threatened to choke her.

“How do you know,” he said slowly, “that your gift of spinning will not return once the parasite is removed?”