She knew that.
She couldn’t quite tell how much of his affection was the act of a lonely boy who yearned foranyamount of intimacy … and how much might be because he legitimately liked her.
Gods be told, she wasn’t entirely sure how much her own yearning was based on the same.
Could this really be the start of love?
Or perhaps it was nothing more than hasty passion and a recipe for mistakes—as Madam Sauer would have said. She was always quick to chastise the girls in the village who fell too easily into the arms of a handsome boy.
But this was Serilda’s story, and this washerhandsome boy, and if it was a recipe for mistakes—well, she was grateful for now to at least have been handed some of the ingredients.
In the space between her uncertainhelloand these scattered thoughts, Gild had started to smile.
And Serilda couldn’t help smiling back.
“Stop it,” she said. “I’m trying to untangle us.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re distracting me.”
“I’m just lying here.”
“Exactly. It’sverydistracting.”
He laughed. “I know I shouldn’t be so happy to see you. I assume the Erlking wants you—” He cut himself off as he looked up to take in the room, overflowing with straw. He let out a low whistle. “Why, that greedy monster.”
Serilda managed to free the last bit of hair. “Can you do it?”
Gild sat up. There was no hesitation as he gave a firm nod. Relief flooded through Serilda, even as she saw his shoulders droop.
“What’s wrong?”
His expression was baleful as he looked back at her. “I guess I was hoping we might have a bit of time … together … that didn’t involve this.” He grimaced. “I mean, to talk. To … just … be with each other, not to—”
“I know,” said Serilda, her entire body flushing hotter than before. “I was hoping that, too.”
He reached for her hand and bent to press his mouth against her knuckles. A thrill ignited across Serilda’s nerves. She couldn’t help thinking of how he had taken her hand the first night they’d met.
It had surprised her then.
It elated her now.
“Maybe,” she said, “if we work very hard, we can have it done with time to spare.”
His eyes glinted. “I like a challenge.” Again, his warmth was short-lived. “But, Serilda, I hate this, but … I must ask for payment.”
She stilled. A rush of coldness swept from her hand, still clasped in his, all the way to her heart. “What?”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” he hastened to add, almost pleadingly. “But the balance of magic requires it—or at least, this magic does. Nothing can be given for free.”
Serilda pulled away. “You spin gold all the time. All those gifts for the villagers. You can’t tell me you’re receivingpaymentsfor those.”
He flinched, as if she’d struck him. “I do that for me. Because I want to. It … it’s different.”
“And you don’twantto help me?”
With a groan, he yanked a hand through his hair. Lurching to his feet, he grabbed a handful of straw and sat down at the spinning wheel. His shoulders were taut as he gave the wheel a spin and pounded his foot against the treadle.