The wheel had stopped spinning.
She looked over to see Gild watching her, his chin cupped in both hands, leaning forward on the stool like a rapt child. But in the next moment, his brow had furrowed.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
“Why didyoustop?” she said, jumping up from the settee, where she’d settled at some point during her tale. “We don’t have time to—”
She paused and looked around.
The straw was gone.
They weredone.
Gild grinned widely. “I said I could do it.”
“What time is it?” She looked at the candle, startled to see that it was still as tall as her thumb. Planting her hands on her hips, she glared at Gild. “Are you telling me that those first two nights, you were intentionally goingslow?”
He shrugged, his eyes widening, a picture of sincerity. “I had nothing better to do with my time. And I was enjoying the stories.”
“You told me you hated the story that first night.”
He shrugged, then rolled his shoulders a few times to work out their stiffness. As he stretched his hands overhead, his spine emitted a series of loud pops. “I don’t think I used the wordhate.”
Serilda scoffed.
Bobbins were scattered messily in a pile beside him, since he hadn’t paused to organize any of them and Serilda had been too distracted in her storytelling to complete her end of the work. She walked around the spinning wheel and started stacking them against the wall. She wasn’t entirely sure why she bothered. Some servant would come in, scoop them up, and take them away for whatever the king was doing with so much golden thread, but she felt guilty for not having helped much tonight.
As she set the bobbins into neat rows, they shone like little beacons in the candlelight, as pretty as gems. The amount of straw had made the task seem like an impossible feat, but Gild had done it with time to spare. She couldn’t help feeling impressed.
As she went to set the last bobbin of thread on the top of the last stack, she hesitated and looked down at the glistening gold.
Whatwasit worth?
She still wasn’t entirely sure that it was real. Or—she believed it was real here, on this side of the veil, in the realm of ghosts and monsters. But if it crossed over into the sunlight, would it vanish like morning mist?
But no, the gifts that Gild gave to the people of Adalheid were real enough. Why wouldn’t this be as well?
Before she could second-guess herself, Serilda pulled back her cloak and tucked the bobbin, heavy with gold, into her dress pocket.
“What is he doing with it all?” she murmured, stepping back to inspect Gild’s work in all its shimmering glory.
“Nothing good, I’m sure,” he said, so close that she imagined she could feel his breath tickling the back of her neck.
Had he noticed her taking the bobbin?
She turned to face him. “And you’re all right with that? I know you’re helping me, but … you’re also helping him. Adding to his riches.”
“It isn’t wealth he wants,” Gild said with calm conviction. “He has something else in mind for this.” He sighed. “And—no. I’m not all right with it. I want to throw it into the lake to make sure he never gets any of it.” He looked back at her, his expression tormented. “But I cannot let him hurt you. Erlkönig can have his gold if it keeps you safe.”
“I’m sorry that I keep bringing you into this. I will find a way out of it, somehow. I keep thinking that … at some point, he’ll have enough, and he won’t need me … oryouanymore.”
“But that’s just the thing. Once that happens, you’ll be gone forever. And I know that’s a good thing. I don’t want you trapped here like I am. I don’t want anyone else to suffer here. There’s already plenty enough suffering in this castle as it is.” He paused. “And yet …”
He didn’t have to say it. She knew what words he was searching for, and she was tempted to put him out of his misery. To say the words for him, because words had always been her haven, her comforts … whereas Gild seemed to agonize over every one. At least, when he was being honest, like this. When he was so vulnerable.
Finally, he shrugged. “And yet, I don’t want you to leave, knowing that you’ll never come back.”
Her heart squeezed. “I wish I could take you with me. I wish we could both be free of him. Run away from here …”